Living History.

My world Civilizations professor made an impression on us during our first class with her. Walking quickly to the front of the class, she looked around at us all sitting at the tables and then suddenly began talking.

"Get out your textbooks, everyone." Without much pause, she continued, "Turn to page 198. Tell me about the Minoans."

Everyone frantically located page 198 and began reading underneath the heading, "Minoan Civilization."

"Hurry, hurry," she urged, "we've got a lot to cover and not a lot of time. What about the Minoans?"

"They lived on the island of Crete," someone mumbled.

"Crete! Good, good," she said, whirling around and scribbling 'Crete' on the board. "What else?"

"They were peaceful people," someone said.

"Peaceful! Great. What else?"

"They spoke a form of Greek," I said.

"Spoke Greek! Fantastic. What else?"

We went on like this for a good minute or two. We would read the text and call out facts and she would write them on the board. Finally, she stopped and turned to face us once again. Pointing to the board, she asked us, "what's this?"

We were silent, confused.

"These are facts, yes. But this is not history. The history you read in books is boring... it's safe. When historians can't find answers to their questions, it's dangerous. So they often state a hypothesis to make things safe and convenient. We don't know if the Minoans were a peaceful people, we just know that none of their cities had walls. We don't know what language the Minoans spoke because their writing hasn't been deciphered yet. History is dangerous, history is confusing, and history is messy. In this class, we'll be exploring the true history... the history that deals with human thoughts and emotions and dreams and hatreds."

Needless to say, World Civilizations has fast become my favorite class. And because of this way of viewing history, my mind has been wandering a lot. As seventh-grade-teacher-like as it sounds, history is a lot more fun when it comes to life.

* * *

In New Testament class, we've been reading through the book of Acts. In chapter 9 of said book, what I consider to be one of the most amazing occurrences in the Bible takes place. On his way to Damascus, a city north of Jerusalem, the Pharisee Saul is walking along with some companions when a brilliant light surrounds him. Now Saul is a bitter, greatly outspoken hater of the Gospel and of Jesus. He believes Jesus was a phony so much that he helped stone Stephen, a disciple, to death, and frequently hauled Christians off to jail. On the way to Damascus, Jesus speaks to him, blinds him, and sends him on his way. Long story short, he dedicates his life to spreading the word of God to the Gentiles, or non-Jewish people (and he even gets his sight back! Yay!)

A few years later, while co-pastoring in Antioch, Saul was called by the Holy Spirit to go on a mission with Barnabas. And so the two set off:

"So after they [the church elders in Antioch] had fasted and prayed, they placed their hands on them [Saul and Barnabas] and sent them off. The two of them, sent on their way by the Holy Spirit, went down to Seleucia and sailed from there to Cyprus. When they arrived at Salamis, they proclaimed the word of God in the Jewish synagogues. John was with them as their helper." (Acts 13:3-5)

I read passages of Scripture like Acts 13 and pretty much just glaze over them to get the main idea - they travelled, arrived, and preached. But recently I took to looking at this history as it was - messy, dangerous.... alive. And my view of Saul (Later named Paul) and his companions becomes so much more incredible... so much more real.

I think about journeys I've taken, and realize that the journey is sometimes the best part.

* * *

I bet Paul was a really serious guy. I mean, he trained under Gamaliel, which would be like the present-day equivalent of a law degree from Harvard or Yale.* He grew up in a world of regulations, high demands, and strict rituals as a Pharisee (that is, a Jewish bigwig who upheld ceremonial rites and memorized word for word all the books of the Old Testament.) I imagine Paul didn't care about how dirty or gross he looked after months of travelling, but always talked very clean... very precisely. Like, he wouldn't say "don't," but rather "do not."**

Then I think of Barnabas, whose name means "Son of encouragement." He was probably the clown of the bunch... Smiling a lot, always with a joke in the hip pocket. I bet he was a really good speaker, though, and could totally relate to his audience. I can imagine him playing pranks on Paul and John as they travelled, sneaking up late at night with a bush on his head and yelling really loudly, writhing around the campfire. Despite this, I bet Paul and John and any other companions would have loved to have Barnabas around, the way he was always looking on the positive side and being really uplifting.

What would their nights have looked like? I picture John and Paul and Barnabas and others gathered around a small campfire behind a knoll just off a road built by Roman workers. I'm guessing, based on Jesus' teachings, that they didn't take a lot with them - "Do not take along any gold or silver or copper in your belts; take no bag for the journey, or extra tunic, or sandals, or a staff; for the worker is worth his keep." (Matthew 10:9-10) So I can see Paul laying on his back on a shabby blanket, his cloak spread over him, and Barnabas sitting up prodding the fire with a stick, while John lay on his stomach, writing a letter back home.

"What do you suppose his voice sounded like?" Paul asked, staring up into the enormous glittering sky unblinkingly. His words met silence for a good while.

"Hard to explain, isn't it?" John replied, pausing from his writing, "how do I go about describing a voice? It wasn't deep but it wasn't high pitch. Somewhere in between, I guess. And it was steady... Rarely did he stutter or falter when speaking. But the most memorable quality," John continued quietly, eyes moistening with tears, "was the passion with which he spoke. He wasn't afraid to show emotion, whether anger or sorrow or excitement."

Again, silence settled on the group of men. The fire crackled and sputtered occasionally, and from all around them came the ceaseless chirping of crickets, almost as if the earth were crying out from want to add to the description of its Creator. Barnabas tossed the stick lightly into the flames and leaned back onto the ground, joining Paul in searching the heavens with wide eyes.

"We'll get to hear him speak again," Barnabas said, smiling uncontrollably at the thought, "before long, we'll be with him again and it'll be great

The contagious grin spread to John and finally to Paul. "I cannot wait to meet him," Paul whispered, still smiling. And for a good long while, the men remained still upon the earth, each smiling and imagining such a reward as meeting Jesus again.

Barnabas broke the silence this time with a sharp outburst of laughter. John looked up from his letter, silently heaving from suppressed joy as well. Barnabas let go of his inhibitions and laughed raucously, closing his eyes to the brilliant display the sky offered. Even Paul began to chuckle, and, sitting up, began to lead the others in a hymn.

I bet Paul's singing voice was deep and strong, able to hold the melody well. It would have been a long while before they all got to sleep that night, praising and laughing together, caught up in the pure joy of their faith.

* * *

History is a lot more fun when it comes to life.

-Daniel

*Do Harvard or Yale offer law degrees? I hope so....

**Yes, I realize Paul spoke many different languages, none of which are English, but you get the idea.... no slang.

Ghetto Dance Party!

So the GDP is another age-old Ghetto tradition.  It's held in the bottom two rooms of the Ghetto stairwell with a real DJ, lots of strobe lights, fog machines, and of course the gansta rap. It goes a little something like this:

Soon after this picture was taken, "Grinding" was changed to "Jesus."

Reed!

Austin (left) Drew (white shirt,) and Dan the Man (whose face is missing)

The VIP Gansta's entrance

Dan the Man (far right) confronting the Penguin Bros.

Probably my favorite part of the GDP.  This is the Thug Jug, which was 50+ gallons of pure, unadulterated root beer! (The picture is crummy, but the Thug Jug was suspended off our front balcony with a hose coming out to fill up your Thug Mugs.)

Dan, one of my roommates.

Everyone jiving (The flash went off.... it was a lot darker and such in reality.)

Mike, another one of my roommates.  (I know what you're thinking, and yes... that is a dude in a skirt in the background.  Trust me, it was even more creepy in person...)

Some ganstas showing up to the par-tay.

People jiving in the strobe room.

These posters are handed down from Ghetto RA to Ghetto RA.  (They're "rappers," which is apparently a brand of music....)

My RA Nick is the one in blue (Sadly, he cut his dreads a mere hour before this picture was taken....)

My direct roommate, Cameron.

One of the rooms beforehand....

Scott in his costume.  He's pretty much super awesome. (Check out that beard!)

The room after - ready to jam!

The system (more speakers were places throughout the rooms)

This took us like half an hour...

Bored in Class...

Ta-Da!

Trashy.

So CCU has this time-honored club that meets once every Tuesday to do an extremely important task.  Steeped in legend and tradition, this club is named after its primary purpose - taking out the trash.

Thats right, all you UNR/Nevada-livers!  I joined the Trash Club!

My first run with the TC was amazing... right up my alley.  We began here in The Ghetto, with our chant - "1, 2, 3, 4, get that trash up off the floor!  5, 6, 7, 8, break that bag and separate!  Trash Club! Trash Club! Traaaaash Club!"  And then we began.  The technique is simple: divide into three groups, each one in charge of a floor.  Once you get all the trash off that floor, you call out "clear!"  And then you run and slam-dunk the trash into the pickup truck.   But there's more than that...

You see, the Trash Club has multiple amazing rituals.  First off, every time we go to a girls' stairwell, we either sing a song or perform a skit.  Here's an example of one of the skits:

It's called "Starcrossed Lovers."  (The entire thing was done in beautiful, fluent Spanish.)

Two of the guys lay on the table, embracing.  The rest of us stand in a line off stage.  The first person walks up and calls out incredulously, "Francisco? Laurita?"  The two sit up, startled, and reply, "Taco!  Taco, burrito, burrito!  Gato!"  The intruder, horrified, yells out, "Gato?  Taco taco!  Quesadilla taco!"  The second person (me) walks up and began yelling, "Que hay debajo del sombrero?  Taco quesadilla!"  The yelling match continues for several minutes until the final person walks in and calms everyone down.  Once we all stop yelling, he says, "Chipotle!"  And everyone laughs outrageously.

Next we arrived in front of the Junkyard, and I was told the story about The Secret:  Once, there was a young man who wanted to know the secret that separates men from women.  So the boy left CCU to go on his journey.  He walked through the freezing north, across the blazing desert, over the highest mountains, through wide valleys, past a huge forest, and finally he came to a monstrous plateau.  Once he scaled the plateau, he looked around and suddenly discovered the secret!  Excited beyond belief, he sprinted back past the forest, through the valleys, over the mountains, across the desert, and was almost back to CCU when he vanished.  No one has seen him since, and the secret disappeared along with him.  But its said that on cold, dark nights such as this one, you can hear him whisper.

Everyone immediately froze, dead silent and listening.  Then they jumped suddenly.  "I heard it!" One said excitedly.  We all listened again, and everyone whispered, "we've got junk."  "What?" the storyteller said.  And they repeated, "We've got junk, we've got junk, we've got junk, we've got junk!"  They repeated over and over, slowly growing in volume.  Soon they were yelling, and in between each "We've got junk!" The story teller would point to the Junkyard behind us and yell, "Yard!"  Then we all yelled and did our chant again.

Yeah.  Awesome.  But it gets better!

After we finished the freshman dorms, we parked the truck and everyone began shouting, "To the land of milk and honey!"  And leapt from the truck, running.  We marched up the stairs of the first upperclassmen housing unit, La Plata, stomping as loud as we could and banging on the walls, chanting in rhythm.  We reached the top story and found only one door open.  Entering, we found a table full of cookies, chocolate wontons, and Kool-Aide.  We the feasted, and I was told the story of the Great Wise Eagle.  (It's too long and too mystical to be put in a blog.)

Lastly, we split up to cover the remaining four upperclassmen apartment complexes.  I was with two guys, Eli and Chris, and upon entering the second story of Kit Carson, we were faced with virtual mountains of garbage.... it was a trashy night.  On our second trip down the stairs to the dumpster, I was told the last and most amazing story of the night - the story of the Great White Wilkin.  

The Great White Wilkin was the greatest trash clubber to ever pick up a leaky bag of old Chinese food.  He stood 8 feet tall and had old soda cans for teeth.  He could carry 50 bags of garbage on each finger, and on one blizzarding night when the temperature was -13, he cleaned out every single stairwell and upperclassmen complex alone, because everyone else was sick with pneumonia.

After this, we drove by the dumpsters and deposited all the stinking garbage, with many truck-to-dumpster leaps and pile drives.  It was pretty much an amazing night, and I can't wait until next Tuesday, when I'll dawn my Mexican Luchadore mask and take ti the trash once more.

Byah!

Status Update...

So on the website Facebook, (for those of you who don't have one,) they have this little box at the top of your page where you can enter status updates.  A lot of the time, the box becomes the prime example of internet illiteracy and/or "too excited to type words" syndrome.  (i.e. "Katie is OMG!!1! I CATN BELEEVE HE SAYD THAT TO MEEE!!!!!1")

I thought for this blog I'd just do a boatload of updates that kinda paint a picture of what college life has been like recently;

NOTE: None of the updates are in order, I just put them down as I thought of them.  They cover a time period of about three weeks.

Daniel is...

... nervous about his upcoming tests in New Testament, Biology, and Macroeconomics.

... amazed at how much you can learn with two hours, a quiet room, and three or four textbooks.

... mad that Wal-Mart is so incompetent and yet so successful.

... trying to get a job at The Olive Garden, St. Anthony's Hospital, Office Max, and pretty much anywhere else within walking distance.

... afraid that he won't have enough money to make it through next semester.

... just now remembering how much he loves classic Disney movies.

... wondering what the weather's like in Dayton.

... super disappointed at how terribly he preformed at his chapel worship team tryout.

... addicted to the TV show Scrubs.

... frustrated at the low prank potential of his stairwell.

... excited to be drumming at the first Novo service this Sunday.

... trying to get better at Foosball, longboarding, volleyball, football, and pretty much every other activity he sucked at in high school.

... psyched at the results of his New Testament, Biology, and Macroeconomics tests!

... amazed that midterms are right around the corner.

... slightly surprised that there's a homecoming week in college, too (I guess I just never really thought about it....)

... excited for "80's Not-Prom" tonight with the girls from the QuikStop.

... amazed at how easy it is to clean your room if you do it every day.

... bummed that he's finally being charged for loads of laundry.

... learning how difficult it is to play video games with a 3-liter bottle of peach soda duct taped to his right hand.

... so happy to be living in a big city.

... not able to comprehend that fact that he's had 6 flat tires since he got here.

... coming to the realization that he doesn't have enough money to safely buy a season pass.

... astounded at how stubborn the 24 Hour Fitness recruiters are (talk about not able to take a hint!)

... wanting to drop in unexpectedly at DHS for some reason.

... wondering how Sarah's liking her senior year.  (It was my personal favorite.)

... getting his butt kicked by cross country practices.

... happy he doesn't have a car anymore (it makes life a lot simpler, really.)

... wanting to travel the US with nothing but his hiking backpack, a sweet knife, and a husky named Rosco.

... done writing this blog.