From the Mind of Me

A placed called "home"

2008-02-21T20:54:00.000-08:00

It's slowly approaching upon two years since I detatched myself from the hometown I had always know. San Diego had served me quite well, and since I'm no longer there - I look upon it quite fondly in many ways.

Though, as many of you know, I have since moved to the wonderful Long Beach, California. Sure, if you've listened to early 90's rap (think, Warren G and Snoop Dogg) you might have some preconceived notions of what this city means. I know I did.

But, as a city who is tied for #1 (with San Jose) for their current efforts towards recycling and composting, a city whose harbors supply the demand of nation, and who's people are as diverse as a food connesiour's food palate can be, I have enjoyed calling this "home," for awhile.

There's a grit to the city, a worn in feel. And certainly, there's history.

One examples of that history is how Long Beach (and one it's sub-communties called Lakewood) had gone about naming their streets years ago. Mine is one such example. And since you should well know I'm a huge fan of NPR, I'm going to give them the credit and let their words speak on the history of the street I call home:

Before the Internet, before TV, the medium of choice for most Americans was radio. D.J. Waldie, author of "California Romantica," says you can find some of the stars of radio on Lakewood's street signs. Waldie says a small portion of Lakewood, developed during the Second World War was called Radio Park.

"Because so many of the streets had connections to radio personalities. There's an Autry Avenue..."

As in Gene Autry. The singing cowboy from Texas starred in almost a hundred movie westerns. But from 1940 to 1956, the Autry was host of a national radio show: "Melody Ranch." In later years, Autry left his mark in Southern California broadcasting, owning KMPC, KTLA, and the Angels baseball team.

we've been dating for awhile...

2008-02-05T20:35:00.000-08:00

Howdy, my name is Josh and I love taking pictures. Scratch that, I really love taking pictures.

That phrase shouldn't be a suprise to anyone who's ever been around me for more than 10... possibly 13 seconds. If I have a camera handy, you're gonna see me with the familiar one eye closed, cringed face, and sludged shoulders trying to achieve some angle to snap a picture of you... or some random sight that catches my eye just right. I don't know where this love first budded, but I can tell you most assuredly how it has been watered over the years.

When I was little, I quite easily remember numerous moments of a camera being handed to me. Like bread to a needy child on one of those starving children commercials, my hands went out to reach for the camera with the same hunger. Thankfully, the curiousity was never stiffled, never told to wait, not even for a moment. The camera was put in my hands and I was told to "go ahead." One Christmas I was even told "have fun" when I was even given my own film camera - a Canon point and shoot camera that allowed me to change from landscape, to large portrait, to panaramic film size. With it's dark black and titanium coloring, I took that toy from youth trip to San Francisco vacation to youth trip countless times.

From that simple point and shoot, I graduated to a Pentax film SLR camera that took me on many of my college journeys. And, quite often time, the costly film and development was seen as a more worthile, frankly enjoyable, activity than heading to the grocery store for a liquor run with friends.

As the digital age is well upon us, I have most definately hopped on board, leaving that Pentax to a spot in my trunk where it is always a handy backup. Thankfully I've had some gracious friends, Seth and Ing, who have thrown me a life preserver to stay afloat - loaning me their camera anytime I've wanted to play paparazzi. Further, some "school and church related" photos have been taken using a brand spankin new digital SLR I was able to pickup for our school's yearbook coordinator... AKA, me.

Yet, this blog is not only for reflection, but also for rejoicing. I have a camera of my own now - one that I will no longer have to question the validity for taking it places. She, a Cannond 40D, has been mine since October and we've been getting familiar with eachother. With her, I will have the freedom to "go ahead" as my father helped me to do years ago. The lens will have freedom to travel, and as a favorite Dr. Suess book shares to us, so I will share with the lens and say, "oh the places you'll go," with me.

But here is where you must, nay, should participate in the blog:

1. She needs a name. She's my lady, we've been dating for awhile, and she needs a name that suits her beautiful figure.

2. Please tell me something you'd like to see a picture of. Obscure and challenging ideas are welcomed.

3. And if you're curious to see where I've gone already - feel free to click here: My Photos

Let's Paint, Exercise, and Blend Drinks

2007-12-10T21:53:00.000-08:00

It's been awhile since I've choked with laughter, cried in hilarity, and giggled with infatuation. And when I say awhile, I mean Saturday, December 8th 2007. For it was on that day that I was exposed to an element of public broadcasting I was completely unaware of, yet am ever so thankful I was treated to through the knowledge of Seth. (Thanks man!)

As with many sentences that pop up in today's pop culture, this one starts off like this: "So I was checking out something on YouTube..." It was there that I saw a man, on his own public access television show, attempt to give his spin on our modern world of multitasking. In half mockery/desire to inform he proceeded to run on a treadmill (in full suit of course), eat a pie, paint a canvas of the pie he was eating, while also taking viewer's phone calls. (Are you picturing this?)

This was only one episode. In another he was running on a treadmill (full suit), painting a picture, once again hearing feedback from his callers, but this time he was teaching us how to make a blended drink - which looked disgusting as he only put in 3 of his 7 ingredients.

Now, if you're picturing this... let me add that within the first three seconds of him starting the treadmill, he's out of breath. Then, to add to that, his painting looks pre-school esq. Further, his callers are usually gang members throwing insults at other crews, or people speaking vulgar at him mid-mumbling-sentence... he then tries to throw a philosophical spin on their less than perfect comments. And last but not least, whoever is running the video in the recording booth adds the cheesiest of 80's graphics and special effects.

I know my words are feeble to the actual experience of watching the show. Yet, I would like to preface the experience before you click start. As mentioned before, he takes live calls from viewers. Those viewers... well, they have potty mouths. So, if you're willing to ignore that aspect, you'll appreciate everything:

Also, just in case my thoughts haven't convinced you to click one of the above videos, feel free to read Josh M's blog about the same topic for a little extra encouragement: Josh M's Blog

Application needed...

2007-10-23T13:55:00.000-07:00

I think I've started three different blogs since I last posted. Each time I sat down to write, words were penned, but it never seemed the words were timely. So I let them pass and let new words come to mind - but they too were not timely. Yet today, something timely has come up and I feel it's important to pen, and actually post.

If you have paid any attention to the news within the last few days, you'll have noticed that Southern California has been under a bit of a fire crisis. From Malibu to San Diego, were seeing our natural terrain turn to scorched earth, taking the lifelong possessions of many along the way.

This scenario is not new to Southern Californians. Whenever the Santa Ana winds blow, the news shares countless reminders that we're under a fire watch. As a child, I saw news reports play out warning after warning... warnings that then become live reports beside a mountain that was ablaze.

As predictable as the fire season is, and as painful as the devastation can be to families, there's another constant that is present each time these headlines flash on our television screens - the fact that I want to be a wildfire firefighter.

The exact moment occurred to me a few years ago - while watching helplessly the Cedar Fire tear through areas of San Diego. I was watching childhood fishing spots, communities where I played high school sports, so many communities being bulldozed by fire... and all I wanted to was skip my college classes and drive south.

As a young boy, I didn't mind digging holes in the ground for no reason, chopping wood for hours upon end, or staring at the creation of fire endlessly into the evening. I started wondering if these kinds of items could be put on a resume for "Why I should be a Volunteer CDF (Calif. Dept. of Forestry) Firefighter." These are men who are called at a moments notice, told to show up with their gear of minimal hand tools (think shovels and saws) and directed to cut fire lines into the terrain. Sometimes they are driven, sometimes told to hike, and other times parachuted from an airplane.

Their tireless work during fire season reminds me of my work in the education system - hours of toil and focus to accomplish a task that may help countless, or only a few. And though my danger of getting burned is only by the harsh words of parents, theirs is very real, and something we all are appreciative of - though one I wouldn't shy away from.

And so whenever the winds start blowing, and I'm forced to watch my state from a distance, I wonder if there is a way I can become a CDF member, available to be called in and help save not just my hometown, but anyone's...

Why I love Trader Joe's...

2007-08-22T23:41:00.000-07:00

Where else is there a place that every time you walk out door you feel better than you walked in? For me, that place is Trader Joe’s. It’s always an opportunity to explore taste, explore healthier options of life, and make acquaintances with just great people.

Tonight was no exception, and even more proof to my point. You see, as I was checking out with my groceries, I began to make conversation with the new TJ employee who was being helped by a season veteran. As jokes and laughs were shared, I brought up a question I had been pondering:

“By chance, is there any way I can buy some of the small hand baskets from you guys?” I continued and explained I teach and my Jr. Highers don’t have lockers… and I’d like an easy, stored under the worktable, solution for them to place their multiple books after they’ve lugged them to my class.

Shortly after this request, and my sharing that I intentionally want them to say Trader Joe’s and not just plain ones I could find at Target that I was told, “Pull around back…”

Yes ladies and gentlemen, my friendly, oh so helpful checkout girls were going to provide me with 12, awesomely complimentary hand baskets!

My smile beamed wide as I heard her words, and continued as I pulled my car around back. Once loaded in the car, I tried to find a way to say thank you – and every idea was returned with, “No worries,” or “You don’t need to.” Finally, the TJ girl said, “beer…good beer!” So, in gratitude for this oh-so-lovely gift, I shall return to Trader Joe’s in the next few days with a thank you card, and two six-packs of hometown San Diego beer.

At the end of this blog, it is my hope you take the time to trek into your local Trader Joes and share in conversation with some of best employees retail has to offer.

First Day of My Life...

2007-08-17T20:49:00.001-07:00

Everyone wants love. Whether from family, friends, to a romantic interest, it’s something fun and filling to feel. And with romantic love, I’d reason to guess that many want just one story of love that’s worth telling for a lifetime.

As some of you may already know, I’d much rather watch a romantic comedy movie than any action-packed thriller or horror flick. With that in mind, I occasionally get sidetracked by thoughts of my future, love included. It’s then that songs enter mind and I begin reminiscing over lyrics that make me daydream a thousand thoughts.

One such song has an accompanying music video that moves me to incredible extremes. I encourage you, whether a fan of the group Bright Eyes or not… whether a fan of seeing love felt or love lost, to take three minutes to watch and see love that has found itself on the doorstep of those in the video.

To disclose, there are all types of people in the video – opposite sex, same sex… but I urge you to watch and see the small facial gestures and expressive thoughts as those in the video listen to the same song you’ll hear out loud.

Bright Eyes - First Day of My Life

Alaska...

2007-07-17T22:24:00.000-07:00

I’m back home… sorta.

You’d think I could start off this blog by using the words, “I’m back home” with confidence. Though, after visiting Alaska, I’m not sure I can say those words with as much gusto as before.

If you have ever listened to me ramble about the outdoors, you’ll have picked up boastings of Northern California, Colorado, and the sites I’ve been privileged to… Mammoth, American River Valley, and Pikes Peak with all of the Rockies’ splendor.
Yet, with the soil of Alaska having touched my toes, I now have another land to place above all on my list. As a close friend described, “Alaska is like Colorado on steroids.”

A land known for it’s midnight sun summers and darkly cold winters is a land that makes any other nature setting seem tainted and less genuine. I can’t describe to you the feeling being there has in me – other than it’s hard not to buy a log cabin, kindle the wood fire stove, hunker down for a season or two, and find some rejuvination as I live off what the land provides. Okay, maybe I’d take a trip or two to Fred Meyer (the best grocery store/department store ever) would be in my future… but you’re getting the idea.

Besides some of the most incredible nature to experience, I was also blessed to have spent time with some amazing kids and their incredible families. Our group of 23 from Bethany split into two sites to teach Vacation Bible School to areas that do not have much/anything at all when it comes to reaching out to youth.

I was stationed in the city of Big Lake where I worked mostly with the high school youth, and for 3/5 of the week became song leader for our site. Sure I can’t sing, but the kids, preschool through high school, didn’t care and I had a blast acting like a fool for them. By the end of the week, you couldn’t bear to say goodbye to the kiddos, and didn’t like the thought of leaving the new family members you made with their parents.

Truly, it was an experience to make you feel more blessed than you’ve ever been… not only by the outdoors, yet also by the people that welcomed you with arms of love and smiles of appreciation.

Ultimately, Alaska is a place to experience creation… a place I will surely touch again.

"911, what is your emergency?"

2007-06-20T23:01:00.000-07:00

Those words were asked of me today.

Now first let me say, I'm alright. The situation didn't involve me so much as it involved my frustration.

Please allow me to explain:

This afternoon, I began a drive to Costco. I made such a trip in order to pick up a rad shelf unit for my classroom science materials. As I was making the interchange from the 91W to 710N, I noticed there was a hint of smoke coming from the brush on the side of the freeway. Being a born and raised southern California boy, I know smoke = fire, and fire = a huge possibility of a devastating brush fire. Quickly I grabbed my cell phone and dialed 911 to let emergency officals know that there was about a 6 foot wide fire that appeared to just have started alongside the freeway.

You'd think information like that, or any other info to share with a 911 operator might be answered in a timely manner. Apparently, my definition of "timely" is a little different than 911's.

I waited 3 minutes. Yes, 3 minutes... 180 seconds... 1/20th of an hour. I drove waiting, listening to a recorded message of "currently busy operators," while my heart raced with frustration towards the ringing and ringing.

Goodness gracious... 3 minutes... does this upset anyone else? What if I was with someone who was having a heart attack? What if I was reporting someone with a gun on my school's campus?

How in the world is waiting 3 minutes to report an emergency in ANY way acceptable for 2007?

I ask that if this upsets you, as I pray it does, please take the time to locate the 7 digit emergency number for your area. With cell phone technology, there are still hickups, and it appears that this is one of them: No matter where you are in California, if you're dialing 911 from a cell phone, all of the calls are routed to the same CHP dispatch office. Apparently, they get a little overloaded... specifically, 3 minutes overloaded today.

For the sake of yourself or others, please:
1. Use a landline if you can - it goes immedtiately to a local dispatch.
2. Program a 7 digit emergency # into your cell phone.

For Long Beach, these are our options:
Police emergencies - (562) 435-6711
Fire emergencies - (562) 436-8211

For LA County, this your option:
Fire and Medical Emergencies - (310) 456-6603

Thank you for reading, and thank you taking the time to ulitmately help someone in the future.

a cold frothy one...

2007-06-14T19:11:00.000-07:00

Tis the end of a school year. Yes, June 14th has wrapped up my first full year of teaching at Bethany. I'm just going to let that sentence simmer for a little while in paragraph one cause my mind does not possess the energy to synthesize 180 days of classroom extravaganza at this time.

Though, with the conclusion of one school year and who knows how many more to go, I felt a great desire to reach for a cold, frosty, favorite beer. Yet, due to being sick and facing it with antibiotics right now, it prohibits alcohol consumption. I guess when one of the pills impairs your liver's function, it's a good idea to avoid over-loading it with any more filtering tasks.

With that in mind, I immediately went to the next best thing - a cold, frothy, favorite, chocolate milk - with, of course, whipped cream on top.

So please raise your glass and join with me and toast to the end of a 1st school year, and to a summer of being refuelled, and a life driven in quest to serve my Lord.

california tears...

2007-05-12T15:23:00.000-07:00

I love my state - I truly do. I can say that quite easily because of the blessings I have felt living and traveling in America's 31st state.

Whether sifting my toes through the sands of San Diego, driving through the foothills of Orange County, trekking the High Sierra's of Yosemite and Mammoth, or always appreciating the sights and feelings of the Bay Area... it's a state I truly treasure.

That being said, this commercial I share with you came across my television yesterday as I was relaxing after school. I ask you to watch, listen, and just try not to shed a tear as I did when I saw my beautiful state in nationally televised action.

my inflateable leopard print chair...

2007-04-30T11:20:00.000-07:00

Yes, I do own one. Maybe I should take a second and let that soak in...

An item such as that doesn't really fit into my personality, furniture decor, nor perferred seating. Plush, stretch out, and feet up are all words I like to describe my furniture wants. But, yes, an inflateable, leopard print chair is within my possession. This ownership came to be a few years back, thanks for a neighbor family friend back home in San Diego. It greeted me one Christmas and has remained unopened since then.

As somewhate of a rare experience, I grew up on the same street, same house, with nearly the same exact neighbors for over 20 years. Out of the houses around us with whom we could call friends, only one changed in my 20 years. This kind of situation lets you get to know, trust, and love ones in the walls outside your own home.

One of these neighbors were a married couple of many years - Bob and Marcella. To give you a little history, Bob is the man that fed me a pigeon sandwhich one day, only explaining to me, "Just eat it... you should like it!" Just incase you're curious, yes it did taste like chicken, and I'm pretty sure he killed it in his own hands.

Bob was also the man that my father would drink morning cups of coffee with, stand out in the rain to enjoy a conversation, or head out into the street together when a strange noise was heard in the neighborhood.

Marcella, his wife, was a woman who absolutely loved God's creation. Her yard, front and back (of which included a large canyon) contained the most gorgeous and exotic plants, and many aviaries of some of the most lovely birds. It definately felt like a trek through the jungle when you were down there - which is what gave so much appeal to me playing down there with her nephew Justin during my early days of youth.

Sadly, Bob passed away a few years back. Without knowing what the love of a marriage is, I can only assume her heart was broken into the most millions of pieces. As the years went by, it seemed noone, not even family, could help those pieces to fit once again. Sadly, she turned to years of continued smoking and an alcohol addiction.

My parents saw the most of this beautiful woman, once filled with jubilee then become a dazed and dillusion woman aged by her daily health destruction. Sadly, Marcella passed away this weekend. Thankfully her body has been released of pain, and been given new life beside Christ.

Besides childhood memories of exploration, and a life lesson in dealing constructively with life's sadness, I will remember fondly this gift she gave me - the leopard print, inflateable chair. It only seems appropriate, whether it suits my relaxing needs or not, this chair needs to make an appearance in my home.

walking home...

2007-04-12T23:35:00.000-07:00

It takes less than a minute to lace up my Vans, and it took even less than that for me to decide to take a walk - but not just any walk.

As part of enjoying my time back home in San Diego, I made an impromptu decision to take a stroll down memory lane, literally. You see, a large part of my childhood, teenage years, and eventual adulthood has had The Living Room, an intimate coffee shop, as part of my maturation.

From days as a youth, my family would take evening walks nearly every night. Usually this gave the chance for all of us to get some exercise, walk the dog, and drop off some mail my father had to get sent that evening. On the return of this trip, The Living Room awaited us on the corner.

The history of this shop takes roots in it being an old house that someone looked at, knocked down some walls, threw some vintage furniture in, hired eclectic employees, and has been welcoming in various crowds for years. As their logo shows, young to old, rebellious to right wing, all find themselves sampling the delights of eats and drinks there.

This evening found me doing the same. A walk from my house took my thoughts to days of sitting there as a family and sipping strawberry Italian sodas, to morning stops on the way to high school snagging my white hot chocolate, and to now an adult finding solitude in reading a local music/culture newspaper with his chai latte.

What does it come down to? Simply, The Living Room just feels right... and I hope I never tire of walking home.

one more employee needed...

2007-04-02T17:22:00.001-07:00

So I love my school, let me start off by saying that. Yet, there seems to be a need for a new employee, possibly a resource teacher that can help the junior high staff in this frustrating time of year. Many students' hormones are going more out of control than a 57 car freeway pile up, and many if not all of our teaching strategies are as effective as an Easy Bake oven in the frozen Alaskan tundra.

With that, we need one of these to help "encourage" our junior highers onto paths of good choices.

what seems so simple... is still teachable

2007-03-26T15:19:00.000-07:00

Last week, I had the privilege of waiting in line at our local Fedex Kinkos store. Ironically, this is a 24 hour location, very similar to the one I frequented on late night project completions during my Concordia University Irvine days.

While there and waiting for 350 flyers to be tri-folded by their fancy-dancy machine, a man came up beside me to get help from a Kinkos representative.

I paid no attention to him as I was there to do the same and didn’t feel the need to overhear his business… that was, until I heard the conversation progress.

I do not have the memory to recall word for word details, but let me share with you the synopsis.

A man, in his 40’s, with a handwritten note in hand, asked the Kinkos employee to email something for him. After checking with a higher up, he was told no due to company policy. As the representative responded, she shared other avenues for him to accomplish his goal, such as using one of the computers that you could rent time on the internet. This avenue seemed quite simple and understandable to me, and most likely to you as you read this.

The man responded with, “I don’t have email. I haven’t used a computer. Can’t you just do it for me?

Now, I’m not sure if he was really sharing that he had never once touched a computer in his life or was exaggerating in order to gain some momentum to get his goal accomplished, but it still made me think.

In today’s world, filled with technology, people still exist who have not used the ease of email, loaded a graphics charged online video, or even typed a word document.

This man, with his handwritten note he wanted emailed, was just asking for someone to help him accomplish a task that was foreign to him. Without the resources to help him, the woman was left to leave the man with her words of what he could do next, but not hands to guide him.

The minute of conversation I observed helped to make me more aware as a teacher that I need to not just use my words to guide on tasks - tasks that seem so simple and common in my eyes, may be seen as stressful, fearful, or foreign to the eyes of my students… and to fellow Kinkos customers.

i heart my earth... i heart my cars

2007-03-14T08:38:00.000-07:00

This past weekend proved wonderful for me. I had the opportunity to take a weekend away from the LBC and head up to the mountains for an escape. If you have ever paid attention to my ramblings, you’d remember that I see the mountains as one of the best vacations possible. This weekend proved the same, right on Big Bear Lake.

Our high school youth had a "Winter Retreat," and I say the word "winter" as you can see by the picture it felt refreshingly "Spring." This opportunity allowed the kiddies to meet youth from three other churches, hear other youth leaders speak on topics they are passionate about, and generally be refueled – Jesus style.

As part of this weekend, I had the chance to drive a 2007 Chevy Tahoe in order to transport our church’s youth. This was my first opportunity to drive, for more than a few miles here and there, a large SUV. I was greatly impressed with the comfort this vehicle provided the seven youth we packed into the vehicle. Further, I was impressed with the build quality that has been put into the vehicle. Previous SUV’s and their multi-platform designs (taking parts from existing vehicle and making them work on a “new” vehicle… AKA… Ford and Chevy for quite a few years) had made me less than impressed with SUV’s. This past weekend and this article gave me hope for the future – both as someone who would like the ability to transport large quantities of youth as I continue to volunteer in youth ministry, and as someone who would love to continue my environmental conservation.

Ultimately my thoughts bring me to ponder: Can I afford one right now? Ha, no. Could I look for a used version in the next few years? Yeah… but only if I could convert the engine to bio-diesel. Seriously, what youth group wouldn’t want a ride in a comfy SUV that has exhaust gasses smelling of French fries?

i'm "growing..."

2007-02-25T21:24:00.000-08:00

This post may not seem like much to you after you have read my italicized print, thus why I'm taking the time now to preface just how "big" this post and its subsequent life growing moment really is.

For, I, Joshua Trapp, can now tolerate country music.

See, I told you it wasn't going to see like much - but if you at all know how much I've had a distaste for this music over the last... oh... well, all of my life, you'd realize that this is a moment for me "grow" and expand my horizons. Depending upon your view of country music, you may feel this a moment I've fallen into a pit of hickish-despair.

Yes, I've liked Johnny Cash, and yes I've liked some old-fashioned kickback bluegrass music... but I'm talking Dixie Chicks/Kenny Chesney country music - following me people?

I'm choosing to look at it as a growth opportunity - one that happened to come on a day that I had the privilege to attend another fantabulous NASCAR event with my bud Chris! Once there, we had a chance to see Kevin Costner's band play. Who knew Kevin Costner had a jam band? Who knew he doesn't stink, and actually got the crowd going?

Then, on the way home, I actually asked Chris to replay some of the songs on his country mix CD. Yeah, these are new steps in Josh's life... you think God's hand at work? Only He knows.

With all this said, I've uploaded the mix CD to the iPod, and will close my eyes tonight, welcoming into my musical psyche a new genre of taste.

automobile addiction...

2007-02-10T19:59:00.000-08:00

I don’t know how many of you know, but I would consider myself a car guy… in fact, typically the word obsessed could be thrown around in the same sentence as my name and cars. Going from an interest in classic cars, to import cars, back to classic cars has been a progression from childhood to present - a progression I'd like to take you through, thanks to the motivating conversation with my best friend Chris.

From my childhood, I fondly remember many Saturday mornings shared with my father out on the driveway of our home. It was there the standard Saturday ritual began – each car was washed, vacuumed, detailed and checked for regular maintenance. I can’t tell you how many mornings were spent crawling through the car, vacuum wand in hand, dad right there to teach me something new.

I can say without a doubt, that my father’s Saturday morning attention to detail and appreciation for the combination of steel and gasoline helped me to take the baby steps towards full blown automobile addiction.

As grade school years went by, a family friend’s 66 Ford Mustang loomed on the horizon as my first future car. Though, realities through high school proved that an import car – an Acura Integra from our neighbors – would fill the role as a safe and reliable mode of transportation. This import car, pictured, set forth a few years of understanding for turbo chargers, racing suspension systems, high compression engines, and of course… Fast and the Furious jokes.

When collegiate life became daily, I was exposed to the world of classic cars via a new friend at the time, Chris Pond – a classic car addict and future best friend. As I engaged conversation with him about my then import car addiction, he did the same with me about classic cars. Low and behold, he bought a Mazda Miata to modiy, and I bought a 68’ Ford Bronco to restore. Oh the influence of friends.

It’s now a few years later, the 68’ Bronco, pictured, has faded away into another owner’s hands, and I’m left with the addiction in a smoldering state. Teaching and all that it entails has made life busy and moments of relaxation even more imperative – thus squeezing cars nearly out of the picture.

Yet, my love for them, and my love for my future hot rod still are within me – smoldering now, with blazing in the sights of future. I’d love to see my 1928 Ford Model A Roadster, now in pieces inside of my garage, become complete in the next few years. I’d love to see the suspension I have planned, engine specially selected, and attention to detail my father taught me – come to form in a beautiful concoction of nostalgic steel.

So, here is a thank you to my father who first inspired an addiction, to a best friend who has fed the addiction, and to a future I yearn to never stop craving the aroma of gasoline.

Mammoth...

2007-02-07T14:24:00.000-08:00

Mammoth Mountain, CA - If you have never been, honestly, I want to cry for you. Incredibly gorgeous and magnificent to explore... that's how I fondly remember and constantly lookforward to seeing this piece of the Sierra Nevadas.

A few weeks ago, KJ, Seth, and myself piled into the oh so trusty Subaru to make the drive up to this winter sports habitat. The car was filled with good music, pleasant conversation, and some just dandy scenery. We took a highway I had never traversed on my way to Mammoth - but it was just lovely to catch new eyefulls of central California.

Once up at the resort, KJ and I decided to start our exploration. Many choose to stay on the paths of the resort, yet, in the last few years, I have had the fascination with going off the beaten path. Dotting through tree lines, finding backside slopes, out-of-bounds exploration... it's been just a great way to enjoy how gorgeous the scenery of snow and mountains trully are.

Ultimately, the trip was filled with many great chances: to escape to a winter wonderland, to rejuvinate my walk with Christ through conversation with peers, and to better know two Bethany pals - KJ and Seth.

to listen and learn...

2007-01-03T15:43:00.000-08:00

Inspired by a post of a dear friend about her new found feelings of AM Radio:

I vividly remember being a junior higher, riding in the backseat of a on old Volvo, weaving through the streats of San Francisco, headed to a district of the city called "The Mission." My sister Maddy and her then boyfriend, now brother-in-law, David, had just picked me up from the airport. There was conversation in the car, and there was NPR flowing through the speakers.

It was at this moment that my sister Maddy had another great impact on my life. Besides countless out-of-the-Lutheran-bubble-experiences that she made sure to enlighten my parochial school life with, this experiece is standing out to me right now - the opportunity to hear NPR.

To give a little definition of NPR (National Public Radio) it is basically the PBS (Public Broadcast System) version of radio - public and listener supported.

Yet, back to Maddy - du that car ride we listened to an evening broadcast of the news. A simple scan across the radio channels might have brought someone to hear the clear and poised NPR voice, but they then might roll right on through to some other disc jockey with a repative cheesy beat flowing behind their lackluster words. Yet, Maddy appreciated the opportunity to be an informed listener, hearing a reprose of the ongoings in our world - of situations that needed our awareness and possible activism.

I still today listen to NPR because of first being exposed by Maddy. Favorite shows like "A Prarie Home Companion," "Car Talk," and "All Things Considered," usually carry me home to San Diego on drives, or even at the computer when music can't fill the craving and tv seems like the poison for filling my thoughts.

So here's to you public broadcasting, and a meaningful sister who has always demonstrated incredible love to me.

Christmas Break..

2006-12-29T17:30:00.000-08:00

Wow... almost a week since school has let out for break. Want a recap? Hope so, cause that's what I'm typing about:

1st Night of the Season - Last Thursday was the first official day of vacation, to which I proceeded to enjoy it by heading up to the mountains to get my feet steady once again for the snowboard season. A local resort, Mt. High, stays open for a night session. I had never gone for their night session and was worried it'd be a bit icy on the slopes... the worries turned true, but still gave me a chance to get away for a few hours and get the brisk air across my nose.

Christmas Celebrations - My family resides back home in San Diego, so that's where the wheel and tires took me. It was a good chance to see family - neices, grandma, cousins, aunts and uncles, brother and sisters. Now that I'm moved away, I don't see some quite enough - some I haven't seen quite enough since they first moved away. Though, that's an experience in life... one I've experienced to Long Beach and who knows to where else in the future. Thankfully, even through failures to communicate, they still love me and give me chances to share with them the ongoings of my life - even through the typings of this.

Post Christmas - Now I'm back up in Long Beach, house-sitting, dog-sitting, puting off teacher work, and awaiting an upcoming trip to Mammoth Mountain, CA. To be honest, I am kinda getting cabin fever being "trapped" in Southern California. I'm really ready to get away... to escape... to be put in an extremely cold, and high altitude situation.

So, as for now, there's an update, and here's my salutations: Enjoy the new year, and don't make a resolution just because society dictates that you should make one. :-)

did you know?

2006-12-14T09:37:00.000-08:00

Here’s a little fun fact about Josh: I had/have a great ambition to be an aerobatic pilot.

As a child, I observed my father share with me a love of airplanes. As a man who was a private pilot himself, and as one who worked in the aviation industry for nearly 35 years of his life, I’m sure it was hard for him not to have a passion to pass onto his son.

I remember very vividly playing football in the street, baseball in the yard and pausing a moment while my father shared with me: A. What type of plane was overhead B. Where it was coming from. C. What airliner it was. It was always interesting to hear what he knew.

I remember fondly sitting in the car on a side portion of Lindberg Field (San Diego’s Airport), watching the planes take off and land with such sound and fury. Nowadays this pastime is restricted due to security measures – but I’ll always remember this privilege with my dad.

I remember greatly many Sunday afternoons that were spent across the street from Montgomery Field (small airport in San Diego) having lunch at In-N-Out. It was there that my father and I would listen to the air traffic talk between the control tower and other pilots on our scanner radio.

With all of these experiences, and more, it gave me an incredible desire to pilot an aerobatic airplane. Specifically this plane:

The Extra 300S was the plane that I wanted back in the day, now they have the Extra 300L. Around the time that I realized God was calling me to teaching and not being a lawyer, I put a realization to the fact that financially, Lutheran school teaching might not afford me such an opportunity to log countless flight hours – working my way to an aerobatic plane.

Recently the topic was brought back to the forefront of thought, and couldn’t help but relive childhood joy as it has become adulthood ambition.

cause it feels good..

2006-11-30T07:59:00.000-08:00

Two posts in one week... man, I must really be overthinking, as usual.

None the less, this post is more of a chance for me to share with you a little something that soothed me up yesterday, after facing a frustrating situation here at work.

Know the name Sufjan Stevens? If you don't, shame. If you do, kudos. If you don't care, maybe this will help you to care.

I ask you to give it a listen, lean back in your chair, and run your fingers through your hair - or whatever helps get you in the mood to relax.

where i really want to be...

2006-11-27T14:42:00.000-08:00

For those of you that do not know, I really look forward to the winter months. I enjoy the chill, I enjoy the seasons somewhat changing, and I greatly look forward to the snow that teases me from distant mountains.

Usually, I will watch snowboard DVD's in the summer months (actually, all months), tempting myself to the joy soon to come when the clouds roll in. Now that winter is here, I am extremely eager to bust out the warm jacket and take a breath of thin air. The snowboard DVD's are still in rotation, and the clicks on resort's webcams become a nice daytime mental vacation.

Yet, since it is winter, I can also look forward to the summer months. Ever since a summer camp experience as a youth (thank you Jewish Community Center), I have wanted to learn how to kayak. As a Jr. Counselor in my last summer there (yeah, that one rocked), we were treated on Friday's with a fun-day to get away from the little kids. For this particular fun-day, we headed down to Mission Bay and enjoyed a nice afternoon of bay kayaking. From there, that experience was built upon in an 8th Grade Catalina Island trip - where we kayaked in the ocean from cove to cove. Through high school, I was able to go river-rafting with our high school youth group (go Christ Lutheran, La Mesa, CA!)... that experience opened my eyes even wider to the dream of leraning to whitewater kayak.

I'm now 23, I have a steady job (that allows some summer time off), and even though I can't skip out of town everytime I want to see the snow... I can set myself up to enjoy the melted snow of summer.

So, the point of this post... how about the rationale that this post is more of a chance for me to escape to the mountains in thought, and to share some pictures that inspire me to get out to a local creek, grab my pack, and start exploring.

"my butt itches," and "peace-out-yo."

2006-11-22T19:19:00.000-08:00

These are two phrases that are rattling within my head, soley from today's events. But, before I divulge those thoughts, let me take you back almost a week to catch up.

Friday Afternoon-Sunday Morning: 4 hours in traffic, some great kids, incredible staff, and a rockin' band… that was the High School District Youth Gathering, just outside of Palm Springs. Being spiritually fed with Jesus approved rock… it is quite lovely.

Sunday Afternoon-Tuesday Afternoon: 1000+ Lutheran teachers, a big hotel (man it takes forever to figure where you are), some inspiring discussions and lectures, fellowship to rejuvenate a tired heart, and a newness that is dandy.

Today: Now it's back to the original quotes, as shared by my niece Kyrsten. If I'm near Kyrsten, that means I'm in San Diego - hometown… in the crib I grew up in. Since I'm here, I took some time today to do what makes me appreciate San Diego - head over to Hillcrest and check out the thrift shops. I was able to accomplish this, all while getting lost by taking the back streets that I pretend I can memorize. After that, I treated my nieces, Kyrsten and Brittany, to a Santa Claus 3 movie adventure. That was quite fun, especially letting them wear my plaid jacket and flannel jacket in the movie theatre. (Maybe, just maybe, they'll adopt my spastic pizaz for fashion?)

On the car ride with them, I was giving a Spanish lesson to my 9 year old niece, while also giving my 4 year old niece a lesson on how to "rock-out" in the car with some killer tunes. This included the traditional headbang, the "rock-it' finger formation, and of course the air-drum solo. All this to which she replied at the end of the song with, "peace out yo."

And to this blog I say the same, until post-Thanksgiving thoughts brings me to post again.

Currently listening to: The new bird in our house sing me a song.

why work, even if this can wait?

2006-11-13T10:25:00.000-08:00

I sooooo should be working right now, but it's my prep period and I'm allowed to use my time as wisely or unwisely as I so desire.

This post is being prompted by a quick stop into the Teacher's Lounge here at Bethany. As I walked in the door, a lovely little box greeted me... the box: "Mixed Nuts." A tasty medley of the oh so salty variety of scrumptious snack nuts.

Immediately my mind was prompted to, "That's the title of a DJ Krush song." Yes, that's right... DJ Krush. And before you get your mind onto some "boom booom boom, let me hear you say wayohhh... wayohhh" track, DJ Krush is not of that variety.

To describe poorly... great jazzy beats. To describe best... just listen. If you like, great, let's high five sometime. If you don't, sorry, but you probably won't like driving up a mountain pass with me, or even just chilaxing at my house on a random late evening.

So raise your glasses ladies and gentlemen... here's to tasty snacks that prompt misusage of time and great music thumpin in my head.

Currently listening to: DJ Krush - Roll & Tumble, from the album Krush.

NASCAR... Jesus would love it

2006-11-09T11:11:00.000-08:00

(Originally Posted: Monday, September 04, 2006)

Whatever your feelings are on autosports racing and the subsequent NASCAR, please put that aside.

Now, please think of the last sporting event you attended. Then think to the beginning of the event. I'm guessing you're thinking somwhere near paying $$$ for parking and the national anthem? Good... stay there. For NASCAR, the beginning of tonight's race was starting like any other sporting event I've attended... except for one moment that blew me away.

Right before the national anthem was sung, right before the engines were revved loudly, a pastor led the entire crowd/drivers/crews of 250,000 in a word of prayer. Now, this prayer wasn't to just a "spiritual being" or anything anonymous like that.... it was a genuine "Lord," "Heavenly Father," "God our maker" prayer.

To think, that a sport mocked at being redneck and hick (which it can be), still has a strong respect and desire to have faith, Christian faith, as a part of its experience was very touching.

Never did I imagine how a little of my auto racing world and a little of my faith would colide in an incredibly heart warming way. (And if you're curious... I think I almost cried as I was so touched by it. )

a wish...

2006-11-09T11:08:00.000-08:00

(Originally Posted: Tuesday, May 23, 2006)

Some students were sharing wishes they have - something they want to accomplish in their lifetime.... and this is one that resulted from a 6th grade student of mine:

"I wish that I could poop on the hallway floor... and then blame it on my dog."

I don't think there's anyting I can say to follow that up with.

Currently watching : Scrubs - The 4th Season

Bambi...

2006-11-09T11:06:00.000-08:00

(Originally Posted; Thursday, May 18, 2006)

A qutoe from an 8th grade girl student in my class: "Oh my gosh... like Bambi's dad is so hot! Cause he is all brave and stuff and yeah that makes him hot."

Honestly, I just stared at her dumbfounded after she spoke. Then she started to realize how rediculous her statement was and began back tracking - saying she meant cute or etc instead.... but really, she said it with the same voice influction and tone that oh so many girls would have of their latest teen heart throb.

Quite entertaining to listen to and helps remind me that I really do love my job....

Currently listening to : Lucy Ford By Atmosphere

why emotions? why the church?

2006-11-09T11:03:00.000-08:00

(Originally Posted: Monday, May 01, 2006)

Why is it everytime a trip ends I get emotional? There is something with the exhaustion and act of closing an event in my life (youth gatherings, road trips, and now national youth gathering district coordinator work) that gets me stretched emotionally.

Put me on a plane and it is hightened even more - the window to gaze out of, the Ipod whose songs are intentionally chosen to make me think, and the ultimate result are tears and reflections of a life towards Christ.

It's what I want, it's what I crave. More than any car excites me, more than any ideas of money or luxury, it's the goal of working in the church that makes me want and dream of a future.

As a kid who pretty much never went to church for most of his grade school life (Grades 4-8...), I couldn't have predicted this would be my craving. As a kid who saw youth group and church in high school as more of a social desire than a spiritual nuture, where did this craving come from?

It's all swirling in my head right now and it's all making me wonder.

out of gas...

2006-11-09T11:01:00.000-08:00

(Originally Posted: Saturday, July 02, 2005)

Today was a momentous day. I had someone over to my house that was interested in buying my first car. Now... just to give a little background on this... She's been "up for sale" for almost two years now. This is the first time I've let someone come take a look at her. Protective? Yes. Unable to let go? Possibly so.

Yet, as I sit here tonight, waiting for the wine to kick in, I find myself wondering - "Have I ever troubled myself over in thoughts so much over a girl as I have with a car?"

In all honesty, I do not want to sell my 1st car. She's my baby. I washed her every Saturday for nearly two years straight. I worked and worked to get money to put performance parts on her. I wouldn't even let my mother or father drive it... going out of my way to make sure there wasn't a situation that arose where they needed to.

So as I sat in her today, looking upon the dash and instrument display, relaxing in the seat as I used to do... I couldn't help but have a flood of memories from a previous life flow into consciousness. I was a different person when I had that car - dressed more "conservatively preppy," dated and was attracted to different girls than I am now... had a different relationship with my parents than now.

And now I wonder more... have my choices with car purchases, restoration and modificiation... have they been wise? Yes they have made me happy, sorta have they been financially wise... but where are they leading me? I'm supposed to be a teacher soon... what am I going to drive if I have to take parents and students somewhere? What am I supposed to go to Home Depot in when I'm the responsible adult and build a swingset on Saturday? I then thought to myself... "If only I had a wife to just decide for me...."

Sometimes I toil over what parts or how to modify something... other days... it's looking towards the future and trying to plan ahead. Today was one of those days...

Currently listening to : The Very Best of Fleetwood Mac By Fleetwood Mac

a previous life...

2006-11-09T10:56:00.000-08:00

Originally Posted: Monday, May 30, 2005

Cleaning sucks.... actually, it blows - my nose. Freakin arse, my nose is so stuffed from the dust. But... none the less, it has been interesting.

I keep finding random memories of my previous life.... that doesn't sound right, but my nose is dripping snot, so I really don't feel like going back and fixing that when I'd rather just get my thoughts out so I can wipe my nose.

But yes, I keep finding random memories - like, would you have guessed that I wanted to be a pilot? Yup... I was fascinated by flying aerobatics - those guys that do all the flips and barrel rolls. My dad used to fly airplanes, so I suppose it was the whole, "I wanna be just like daddy," little kid in me. Heck, he and I used to go to one of the little airports here in San Diego and watch the planes together and he'd tell me of the "good old days." Kinda sweet memory...

I also found a bunch of "First Honors" awards from high school - from the days when I cared about getting good grades. Hmm... how those times have changed. Yes, I wanted to do well in college - but, no, I didn't stress and attempt to please my parents... and certainly didn't attempt to please my professors - ha... my student folder probably speaks to that.

What else... hmm.. random summer camp stuff - an award for "always being there to keep the counselors on their toes..." Sounds like the nice way of saying, "always being a sarcastic little ass." They were so sweet to name it something else though.

Anywho... I'm done rambling... I suppose I thought if I typed it I wouldn't feel bad about throwing some of this stuff away... oh well.

Currently listening to : Le Tigre By Le Tigre