Lydia and I were at an event, an improv comedy event to be specific, hoping for an entertaining show. We had already taken our seats when we saw someone from our collective past, a fellow Dordt Alum.* This was not someone I ever got along with at Dordt. I'm not even sure if we ever really talked. Indeed, I believe we had strongly disliked one another from afar... So, there he was, taking a seat quite near us. What do you do?
Worse, I walked right by the same guy two weeks earlier. What to do?
Since we were never friends and didn't like each other, stopping to chat seems odd. I chose to ignore him entirely, pretending I didn't recognize him. Yet, I felt guilty about this. I felt like I was breaking some unwritten rule, and Emily Post was rolling in her grave.
What do you want from me, Emily?! Am I really suppose to talk to this 10-foot tall, monster Dutch-man who has a distinctive voice and uses cologne that smells like meat loaf?! Leave me alone. (P.S. I may have just made up the meat-loaf smell... but I did know another guy who had a peculiar meat-loaf smell.)
In other news: Focus on the Family announced recently that it will be laying off about 20% of its staff, making this 15 straight years of the decline of the James Dobson empire. I am getting more pleasure out of this information than I should be. I hope some this makes some of you as happy as it makes me.*You will rarely hear my self-identify as a Dordt alum, but I am trying to reconcile myself to the school I graduated from. I realized that I am almost through the Kübler-Ross Stages of Grief. First, I denied that I had ever gone to Dordt, opting to claim a state school. Then, I was angry about having gone to Dordt, which has lasted for about 3 years. The bargaining stage went quick. Depressing mixed with anger. Finally, I am ready for the acceptance stage: I can no longer fight it. Though it was not the best decision, I went to Dordt.
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