Too Epic?

How does one start a blog with a name as epic as "Gaseous Admissions?" It's almost too epic. I promised myself it wouldn't be all juvenile poop stories, but I admit I wanna get a hold of some of the "BURPO Miracles" from the old website and post them here occasionally. Also thought about bringing EJ's Theological Journal back into the mix, which I suppose will be part of what I do. I want to talk about God some, though I doubt it'll be fodder for the truly spiritual.

Mostly I'm looking for an opportunity to say what I really think, without too much editing. I'm not sure I can even do that, because I know blogs and social media are a digital projection of one's public self. But this is also like my digital journal, as I've vowed not to kill as many tree buying paper copy journals.

In that light, here goes what I'm thinking about this morning:

You might expect this adventure to be getting easier, but it’s not. With only 6 weeks to go I find that I still have mornings when I don’t want to get out of bed, walk down the street, or interact with the world. I still daydream about my favorite restaurants and food carts, and have long bouts of nostalgia centered on Portland and all the good times I’ve had there. In the back of my head I know that my kids at school will continue to test my limits, and their behavior at the end of the year will more than likely get a little worse rather than get a little better. I wish this DVD could “skip” to the next scene.

It’s hard to walk through the barrio. The clutch pedal on the TEARS bike broke recently, so I’m loaning my motorcycle to Alberto. This gives the occasion to walk through the barrio to get to church and whatnot. I walk through the barrio and have no hard time wondering why Kisha has started getting sick again; the air is thick with pungent toxins that give me a bit of a headache just thinking about them. There aren’t any real sidewalks, and people drive up and down Principal like it’s a highway instead of a residential area. The noise is unlike anything else I’ve ever known, with competing stereos, motorcycles that have removed the muffler, people yelling, and the occasional popping sound of a kid playing with homemade fireworks. I basically can’t talk to anyone while we walk, and if people ask me a question in the street, I usually have them repeat it at least once. In short, it’s a lot like my classroom at SCS :0)

I think you really have to be called to Maria Auxilliadora to be okay with working there. It’s a place full of foreign people, foreign words, and a foreign way of living life. Kisha does just fine in this environment, talking with people, saying hello, and—I know you’re not gonna believe this—being a social butterfly. You can hear little girls and teenage boys and old timers calling her name as you walk with her, and she’s close to celebrity status.

I hear Oregon calling me back home. Honestly, I would have come home sooner if it wasn’t occupational suicide to quit in the middle of the year as a teacher. So now I’m just waiting, but it’s kind of a long time to wait because I’ve already been waiting for so long. It’s interesting to think that this has been the longest time that I’ve been away since we moved to Portland 15 years ago. I used to think of our family as somewhat nomadic, what with the frequency in which we moved around. But it seems we’ve scratched out a little corner on the west side, and being gone for too long is something of a problem. My daydreams include Lebanese, Indian, Mexican, Moroccan, Thai, Gourmet Pizza, Chinese, Vietnamese, and some good Portland vegan grub. I’d love to hook up with people when we get back, break bread (or noodles, or burritos, or whatever depending on the restaurant 