I don't know who reads this...

...and it makes me wonder what I can say, or whether I should bother saying it (if there isn't anyone who does in fact read this). Too many social networks out there to keep track of them all. I want a computer that works like I tell it to, not like it asks me if it should. But that's completely beside the point, neither here nor there. Not that I know where there is. Anyway. The reason I'm writing here is, well, because there's no one else to talk to right now. That statement makes it sound like I'm writing to someone, which I guess isn't really true. But I think there might be people who actually do read this, and if not, then this is just for me. Writing always tends to help or make me think anyway.

- Emotional Content Warning -
What follows contains a far greater concentration of emotional words than is customary for me. Should you choose to continue, your right to complain or remark derogatorily shall be forfeit. Consider yourself warned.
- End Warning -

First off, after writing and reading this, I realized how selfish my thinking was. There is no mention of the other person, and while I told myself this was to keep it vague, it ended up just sounding self-centered. So let me begin, before I begin, by saying this: I am sorry. If you read this, I know I've said it before, but I don't know that I can say it enough. I am so sorry for the pain, heartache, and frustration I have caused you. I only wish I had realized these things before it was too late.


There's a phrase, I have no idea how old it is, but if it originated when the concept it describes did, then I think it's been around as long as we have. It goes like this: "You never know what you have until it's gone." I used to discredit any cliche or stereotype I heard, partly because it was fashionable to do so, and partly because in elementary school I learned like everyone else that stereotypes are bad. But the funny thing about stereotypes is that people don't just make them up. Someone didn't just wake up one malicious morning and decide to spread the rumor that nerds lack social skills and a concern for their own odor, and by sheer random chance the idea took off. These sorts of things spring from a root of truth. Granted, society, in its quest for easy categorization or some such, often applies these ideas far too liberally, but the point remains that they possess a degree of truth. Now I know the aforementioned phrase isn't really a stereotype, but I've not let myself "talk" in days and frankly I want to, which makes you the unwitting victim, I suppose. I never said I'd be organized here.

Back to the phrase at hand. It is so very true. I guess I always have sort of intellectually acknowledged it, but I have felt its truth now down to the core of me. Never have I wept as when I realized what I had lost. And I realized all that romantic terminology was, much as the stereotype or cliche, rooted in truth. I truthfully felt physically cold as I walked from that house. Now it was chilly outside, yes, but I felt far colder than the temperature warranted, and it didn't go away even as my body sweat from the heater in the car. Something wasn't right inside me. It was more than the clenching feeling that precedes tears, for it persisted long past my shaking. For over a year I hadn't felt anything near this intense, but only now that it was over did I truly feel the magnitude of it all. It was crushing. It still is.

The nicest things about writing a blog are I can take all the time I want, and you can't see me.

This phrase is often accompanied by a sense of nostalgia, but more importantly a sense that if the utterer had in fact known what he had as he does now back when he had it, he would have done things differently. Most often this is said with regret, as the whole point is that he lost it. As have I. I have lost more than I imagined I could. I think I always thought too highly of myself. I always thought that while some bad things might happen, they would never get that bad, that I'd somehow get through life just fine, fortune and my own magnificence keeping me on the rosy path with little effort. Well my so-called magnificence has been laid bare to show the sham beneath, and fortune, while perhaps a happy little bonus, is not something to support any weight.

As much as I am tempted to sink into a wallow of self-pity and woe, however, I have a few things which demand I do otherwise. Firstly I have a God who loves me, and works even the most tragic events to good. I wish He'd tell me how, but I'm not really one to demand things of Him. Secondly, I have hope. This dark end does not have to be the end. I believe there are good things in store if only I'll do what it takes to be worthy of them. So that's what I've got to do.

The Epic (and Ongoing) Adventures of Lappy and His Quest for Rehabilitation

I've been telling myself I'd post this for months, and now, finally, I'm going to do it. unfortunately my memory of the events has since grown slightly fuzzy, but the important points are difficult to forget. So without any further delay, on with the show!

Chapter 1: Full of Hope
The tale begins in September of 2008, weeks before I begin my last year at WWU. I think to myself, "self, I'll be living in a small room for an undetermined period of time, spending most of my days on campus or at the Birnam Wood apartments, all the while wanting access to my pictures, facebook account, email, and all those other things. I feel like a laptop would really help." These thoughts, combined with my long-held desire for a tablet or other stylus-based input device, led me to look into tablet PCs, which are unfortunately not nearly as widespread as conventional laptops. Understandable, but still pretty fricking lame. After many hours investigation and research, I made my choice. Which would turn out to be my first mistake.

Chapter 2: A Sign of Weakness
My family has bought several computers from Gateway in the past, and all have presented no problems whatsoever. Apparently, things have changed. Once my computer arrived (the day I left for Bellingham), I eagerly tried it out, accustoming myself both to the new interface method and to Vista. Everything seemed to be going swimmingly. Then, during one of my first sessions actually using the tablet functionality, disaster struck.
I was in my Emissions class, thinking myself pretty cool for not typing my notes into my laptop. My smugness proved unfounded, however, as the screen went black. Laughing silently at my attempts to revive it, I soon resorted to the dreaded hard-boot, holding the power button down until the computer shut off, then starting it back up. Lappy gave me an angry glare in the form of an improper shutdown screen, but relented upon my further insistence and ran normally. Until I rotated the screen to write on it. This behavior seemed to increase the likelihood of crashing immensely, so I soon learned to avoid it. unfortunately, around this time the screen also started showing a bar of corrupted pixels along the bottom of the screen. This was only a few weeks after I received it, so I sent it in for repairs.

Chapter 3: Lost in the Repair Ward
I contacted Gateway customer service, and after a short explanation of my problem, the tech recommended I send Lappy in to be repaired. They wouldn't send me a box to send it in, so down to the UPS store I went. There I said my tearful goodbye, and sent it off double-boxed.
Weeks pass, and no word from Gateway. I call and inquire, and am told that it should be fixed by a certain date. Seems reasonable enough, so I wait. The day came, and went, without word of my wayward machine. I call again, and am informed the reason for the delay is that the part needed is on backorder. So I wait some more. I call a few more times once I realize its not showing up, get lost and confused in the maze of tiered customer support each time until finally I talk to one person who seems to know whats going on. Their news is not good. I'm informed that when I bought it, the computer was in fact refurbished, not new as I had assumed. So Gateway wouldn't fix it. By this time, the lappy had been gone for a few months. they agree to send the computer back, untouched, and let me at least use it.

Chapter 4: A Somber Homecoming
Lappy came home in the same state he left. I have made amends, apologized for not accepting him as he is, and we now lead a reasonably content existence where I keep my taskbar on the top of the screen and don't push the rotate screen button, and he only crashes sometimes while logging in. I have since covertly made a few more calls, both to Gateway and to TigerDirect (where I bought it, it was the only place I could), but eventually decide my best bet will be to try and fix the damn thing myself, because no one is taking any blame for their failures. I think Lappy understands. He knows he could be so much more.

Chapter 5: The Current State
A replacement screen can be had for a little over $100. I'd like to either replace or just try and repair the screen connection cable first, as a few techie friends and I agree that it could easily be the culprit of the corrupt bar on the bottom of the screen. I've tried opening the case up, but didn't get far enough to try it, and I'm kind of scared to break the thing when it still basically works. I've also tried reinstalling the OS and display drivers to fix the whole crashing thing, which also hasn't worked. So. Nothing has been fixed. Nothing (thankfully) has gone wrong beyond the original fiasco. My computer mostly works, I can write and draw on it when the screen is still in its original orientation, overall its not as bad as it could be. but its certainly worse than it should be. weee!

The Man with Leprosy

Matthew 8: 1-3 (NIV)
"When Jesus came down from the mountainside, large crowds followed him. a man with leprosy came and knelt before him and said, "Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean." Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man. "I am willing," he said, "Be clean!" Immediately he was cured of his leprosy.

This passage offers, in my opinion, a very simple summation of the christian faith. The man with leprosy comes before Jesus, and before speaking a single word, kneels before him. He submits to Jesus, acknowledges his superiority. He knows that he is powerless to save himself. Then he addresses Jesus by the title Lord, most likely stating his belief that Jesus is in fact divine. Finally, the leper makes his plea, "if you are willing, you can make me clean." He does not offer any reason for Jesus to heal him, no claim of merit or goodness. He lays himself on Jesus' mercy, in full knowledge that Jesus' will is the only thing that can save him. The leper also recognizes Jesus' ultimate power over death, and his ability to give life. This man walks away healed, his body alive and well where once it was dying.

Jesus responds to the leper as he responds to all those who seek him. "I am willing." With no more required of us than to simply and sincerely ask, Jesus heals the man. The saviors touch makes him clean. Jesus then instructs the now clean man to go to the temple and follow the required laws for such an event, indicating that he did not come to abolish the law, but to fulfill it, to bring it to completion. In him the law is satisfied, freeing us to join him in his father's kingdom.

An open door policy

I did something tonight that I haven't done all quarter. I opened my door. Now I've opened my door hundreds of times before, but this time I didn't walk through it. I just opened it, and stayed in my room. I'd like to say that from now on, I'm going to live my life transparently, with nothing to hide. I'd like for that to be true. But the truth is, that's only my plan, and too often in my life things don't go according to my plan. I say too often, but really I mean that it happens more than I want it too. For all I know things not going according to my plan could be a very good thing. In this case, however, I don't think so.

To live transparently. It sounds pretty enough, deep and thoughtful enough to make me sound all reflective and introspective and whatnot. That's what makes us cool, right, makes us better people because there's apparently something going on beneath the surface, we're not just about appearances and such. It's part of the reason I'm writing this online instead of on paper, because if it's online other people can read it and think better of me for my deep thoughts. I don't know if that's good or bad.

So what does it mean to be transparent? Actually, no, what I really intend to answer is what do I, Kyle Johnson, mean when I say I want to be transparent? And to answer that question as succinctly as possible, I would say that it means to hide nothing. Noble, right? Maybe. I'd like to think that it's a better way to live than what I'm doing right now. The main crux of this is not, however, to be blatantly obvious and open with everyone, revealing to the person you're sitting next to on the bus that which you are most ashamed of. That might be fun though. What I'm trying to accomplish with this is living with nothing to hide. Engaging and partaking in nothing that I wouldn't want to tell my parents, my friends, my God about. I figure if you've got nothing to be ashamed of, then there's no reason to hide anything.

So that's what I'm going to try. I'm somewhat optimistic about it, though the high of embarking on a new life direction has waned a bit. Only God knows the full outcome, but I'd like to think He's happy with me even trying.