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I just got back from a quick trip to Seattle, Washington. In four years of traveling, I’ve never made it up to the Pacific Northwest. So I’d been looking forward to this trip for a while.

I spoke at a church rally in a half hour outside of Seattle in a town called Snoqualmie. Before the event, the youth minister took me to their teen center. It was an old freezer warehouse converted into a coffee shop and concert venue. It was slick.

The event itself was at the base a tall emerald-colored mountain called Mount Si. I could’ve spent all day just exploring the mountains with my eyes. To get things started, Boarders for Christ set up a skateboard demo on some small ramps. It was exciting to see really good skateboarders. They seem weightless.

A hardcore band named Brick opened up the event. They had a lot of energy and really enjoyed playing. I usually don’t enjoy hardcore bands, but these guys were really good. I loved feeling the music pulse through my chest.

I saw a storm sliding in over our field, so I made my talk quick and to the point. I know now that Seattle always looks like that and there was no reason to hurry. In Arizona, those clouds mean there’s going a monsoon ready to wash us all away. But in Seattle, you can have a picnic in the rain. Oh well.

We headed into downtown Seattle to eat at a place on the water. Seattle is a hip town and with lots of cool things to see. The storefronts were packed with hip furniture. We drove right past the Mariner’s stadium just as they made a big play. The crowd roared so loud I jumped in my car seat. We slowed down and peaked in to see the place packed with crazy fans. Not many stadiums are wedged so intimately into downtown.

I had fun imagining the ‘Real World Seattle’ kids running through the streets. I was still in high school when their season aired, and I only caught a few episodes. But after getting to know some of the cast I feel like I’ve seen the show.

I woke up at dawn this morning to catch the plane. After I settled in my seat, I wrapped the little blue blanket around my eyes like a misplaced turban. I am sure I looked stupid, but inside it was dark and quiet. I fell asleep and woke up in sunny Arizona.

Now I am here at Candyce’s coffee shop enjoying our last day together before she leaves for the summer.

My horse was named Cloud because he’s been known to fart. We’d been riding for an hour, and I was beginning to wonder if this fart thing was just a nasty rumor around the corral. Just as I was losing faith, Cloud earned his namesake with a deep, deliberate rumble. I’d never heard a horse fart, but it was a lot like my own, just bigger and better. I got the feeling he was proud of himself.

Candyce and I joined some friends for a few days in the White Mountains of northern Arizona. We stayed at Megan’s big cabin in a buckaroo resort, so it only seemed right to go horseback riding our first morning.

After a little lesson from the cowhands, we were ready to ride. We winded our way through the pine forest, stopping twice to admire a jackrabbit and a cow. Cows aren’t new or exciting, but it fit in with the whole cowboy thing.

We road out of the pines and up a grass-covered mountain. Without the trees, you could see for miles in every direction. I felt like a real frontiersman. At the top of the mountain, we hopped of the horses to find the cave.

A few of us crawled between the rocks into the underground room. Outside wind was whipping across the mountains, but inside it was still and peaceful. It seemed to be a popular retreat, with piles of animal poop around the cave.

:::

It felt so good to get away with friends for a few days. It was cold enough at night to make a fire and bury yourself under blankets. We listened to Dave Matthews, roasted marshmallows, and watched the stars through the giant windows.

The four hour drive back home was stunning. I felt like I was driving through a stack of postcards. It was the ultimate backdrop for a road trip. So Candyce slipped in a U2 CD and we drove through wild wild west.

We were at XLT and got a call that our friend Jen had been in a head-on collision. Candyce and I asked for prayers and quickly left the room. We hopped in the car and drove downtown to the hospital.

We didn’t say much on the twenty-minute drive. What do you say? Do you prepare for the worst? Do you assume she’s going to be just fine?

Her parents met us at the ER. They explained that Jen was driving through a neighborhood when a man came into her lane and they collided. They didn’t know if he was drunk or if he fell asleep because he jumped out of his car and ran away. Jen fell out of the car and collapsed next to the sidewalk. The airbag saved her from getting too messed up, but she was still beat up. We were all very thankful she’s okay.

Candyce went to see Jen and the nurse told me to wait in the hallway. Two nurses and a security guard were tending to a prisoner that was cuffed to a stretcher. He was covered in tattoos and wore striped clothes like you see in chain gangs. He tugged and bucked off the stretcher, determined to get free. I was hoping he’d get loose, or at least flip over and smash to the floor. I’d run in and pin him down as the prison guard yelled for help.

We must’ve been close to a prison, because they brought in another prisoner.; His hands and feet chained close together and the chains dragged on the dirty floor. He seemed familiar with the place, walking three steps ahead of the security guard. He looked through each door like he was a tourist looking for a bathroom. He seemed really excited to be at the hospital. He was the only one.

There is no place more pitiful than an ER in the ghetto. Even when you ignore the prisoners or patients with gunshot wounds, the place is hopeless. The walls were plastered with poster begging you to get tested for STDs. One poster was daring enough to show graphic photos of syphilis.

A half-dozen of us sat in the dirty chairs, staring up at a TV that was so snowy you couldn’t even tell what you were watching. It was almost midnight, and half of the people in the room were still wearing sunglasses. They were so still, I didn’t know if they were asleep or dead.

I wonder what Jesus would’ve done in the situation. The doctors and nurses were busy tending to the suffering, so I offered to play hacky sack with a young Mexican boy. While we kicked around, I asked him to explain his shirt that bragged about being a stoner. He was proud to tell me why he bought it, and went on to tell me about his other shirts back at home: “Bitch layoff” and “It’s not going to lick itself.”

After twenty minutes, I shared with him that drugs cause a lot of trouble, the least of which are killing your brain and going to jail. I pointed to the prisoners. He nodded his head like he was acknowledging the obvious. I didn’t say anything back, and we kept playing hacky sack.

I am so discouraged right now. I really don’t know how long will be before Version2 of Lifeteen.com to be online for the world. Without the database backbone for the site, it’s just; a pretty site to click around in. It’s like I’ve built a beautiful mansion where everyone is is welcome, but I can’t invite anyone over because there’s no electricity, no plumbing, no furniture. It just sits there getting dusty and old.

People did their work at Georgia Tech. If you didn’t do your work and do it well, you failed out. Even an average student there is an exceptional professional by everyone else’s standards. If I were back at Tech, I’d step into the College of Computing and ask for help. I’d have a dozen students around me clamoring about the best way to solve the problem. But that isn’t happening now. I am surrounded by D students who are lazy and they lie.

So in desperation, I emailed the Georgia Tech Alumni Association here in Arizona. I didn’t even know there was a GT group in Arizona. I just searched around, wrote some emails, and prayed. Maybe they’ll know someone who does their job.

I am embarrassed I even have to write about this…that my life is being wasted by incompetent people. I thought this part of my life was done, that now is the time where I spread my wings and soar.

For years I’ve read success stories about when bright minds get together and make miracles. Talent, passion, ambition…it all comes together for something great. I pray that God would lead me to the right people. I have to have faith.

Pope John Paul II is a living example of the difference one servant can make. He’s given his life over to serve God, and the world will never be the same. In his 25 years as pope, he’s challenged generations of young people to not be afraid, to do something bold for Christ.

I am trying to make a difference in this world. I am serious about giving my all.

I went on two MTV reality shows with the sole mission of leading people closer to God. I risked looking like a fool in front of tens of millions of people. I’m mocked everyday. I build websites all day to help people; I get home and I keep building websites. I’ve traveled every weekend for three years to speak to groups to inspire them.

I am not trying to be a savior or win a hero trophy. I’ll never admired as a saint. I just wake up each morning, lace up my shoes, and try to seize the day to help others.

I am trying to make a loving home for young people on the Internet.; And I have been hit with every possible challenge. I feel like I am on a journey across the country, and I hit every red light. How much longer will this last.

I am disgusted that I am sounding like a victim. Screw that. This has got to stop.