Today was the University of Oklahoma Property Control Surplus Auction (aka 'the awesomeness'). Brother Doug and I spent a number of hours basking in the glory of all the crap. It was all there--photocopiers to couches to servers to spectrophotoscopes to barbecue to sailboats to those little vehicles campus mail people drive around. It was intense.

There is a gene in my body that makes me enjoy good deals. I don't necessarily have to be acting on these bargains--just to bask in and admire them is enough. My father is like this as well. He is retired and spends a considerable amount of time in Elk City's local Wall's Bargain Center [Wall's is a nation-wide outfit the buys goods from other stores before they ever reach their shelves for various reasons (smoke-damage, water-damage, design malfunction, shipping truck wreck, surplus, etc.) and re-sells them at low, low prices], and I envy him for this. My wife pin-pointed this trait in me recently. I really can't explain its existence. Perhaps it is some hunter-gatherer leftover trying to express itself in the consumer age.

Anyhow, I snapped a couple of pictures of auction happenings before some authority figure informed me that I was not allowed to do so. I have since researched the topic of rights and photography. It appears that I may have been in the clear since the auction was public. I may have experienced coercion. Neat.

I will share my controversial pictures. Reel in awe at the subject matter that is apparently so sensitive that I am not supposed to release it to the public.



Master of the proceedings. A true salesman. Before opening bids on the item ImageMaker 2000 [a piece of broadcast equipment that is often responsible for the graphics that display the names of interviewers and interviewees in your local newscasts], he--excercising the brilliant sales tactic of verbal minimalism--announced "you can make images on it." Also, one of his offspring tattled on my taking pictures of the event.

Just like my degree, this mixer was rendered obsolete by OU's new J-school. I believe it is a Yamaha. I used it to record the beginnings of an OURUF album that has been on hold for over two years.

They sold these monitors by the pallet. I gazed upon these and thought,"Yeh... Perhaps I should." But, then I remembered the harsh nature of reality.

Look! Arts!

Look! Spectrophotometer!

Good riddance, OU. Buyer, beware.

I walked away with a nice office chair, a Technics SL-1200mkII turntable, and a flash reflector thingy for Nicole's photographic portaiture endeavors. Doug walked away with a nice office chair and two nice desks sized for his ankle-biters. An enjoyable time was had.

For the most part, I have--in general--enjoyed the experience of moving. I lived in the same house for the first nineteen years of my life. Thus, I have no lingering negativity that perhaps comes from being moved away from friends. Rather, I have excitement about experiencing something new. The promise of new ways to organize all my belongings and opportunities to revamp my computer setup. Furthermore, I have found that an abode never really manages to be as clean, organized, and/or tidy as the first couple weeks of my existing therein.

However, there has been a inner-nagging that grows with each move I have made over the past four or five years. It all started with comments from the likes of Brother Brian Hewes on the my having a lot of stuff in my dorm room. I shrugged off Brother Hewes' comments on account of his being a self-proclaimed minimalist. Yeh, yeh... I'm an American... We all have so much stuff... blah, blah, blah... But, my other friends (a group comprised almost completely of Americans) have come to make comments about how much stuff I lug around.

Upon our recent move, I have felt the pang of conviction in this regard. So, I have forced myself to rid myself of a lot of this stuff. Books, furniture, monitors, VHS tapes, computers, luggage, and much, much more. It's been a liquidation event. I have even rid myself of my cherished ukulele and new-wave, red synth ("Could it be worn like a guitar?" More appropriately--"Could it not be worn like a guitar?"). I want to get rid of more, but--the fact of the matter remains--I got a lot of really useful crap.

Anybody have any hard-and-fast rules when it comes to getting rid of their stuff? (please don't waste your and my time if your rules are neither hard nor fast)

Even in the midst of epic accomodations and a legendary reception, the high point was being in the midst of so many friends that have been spread across the nation over recent years. I always get excited about such gatherings for the reason of reuniting with such friends, but this notion managed to land a distinctive blow this time around. I imagine this is on account of the periods between seeing such friends (especially simultaneously) are growing exponentially.

Friendship was as a strong fragrance over the weekend. It was all around, and all around was, thusly, near dream-like. To see these faces in a shared context has, unfortunately, been growing so unnatural.

I imagine it is such instances of rare frienship and brotherhood that give way to fraternal orders (and their subsequent demise as latter generations join under a banner unto them which is likely hollow and impersonal). I would gladly (although erroneously) establish a commune with these men. I would be happy to return to a dormitory-style living situation as long as these men lived in my room and on my hall. There is no insufficiency I could imagine in such a situation.

But, this is undoubtedly where I begin to err. I am something of a loner, socially-speaking. It then speaks volumes of the friendships (and/or my selfish nature) I've been given that I could turn them into idols. I oft rebel against the notion of the actual, sanctificial stepping-stone nature of friendships. I want friendship to be an end in and of itself.

Much like marriage, friendship can be such a difficult means to understand. I will live with my wife for many years, and my friendship with these men will persist as well. My wife and I will carry each other through mile marker after mile marker of sanctificial passages just as my Christian brothers have done and will do much the same. But, it is Christ that has known us long before the pillars of the earth were established and it is Christ that is truly carrying us. Consequently, Christ is who we are called to love first and foremost. But, I want to love my wife, and I want to love my friends--these things which I can hug and can hear laugh and see grow.

I want to harden the transient and put it in my pocket. I want to tell God to take his curse and Great Commission elsewhere and to leave my friends alone. Stop committing me and these men to obligations and responsibilities and desires that send us so far away and steal away our time together.

But, this is that all-too-cliche' idolatry. This is that nasty love of the creation over the creator.

Fortunately, God is merciful and grants us life-giving paradoxes. For if I cling to the glints of life that I see in my friends, I will surely extinguish them. But if I cling to the Father Almighty, the life-bringer from which creation finds its ability to glint in the first place, I will surely find what for I am truly looking and so much so that I may overflow unto my brothers. If I put my brothers behind Christ, I will be putting them on the best pedestal.

How can friendship grow with no understanding toward the ultimate personification of friendship?

As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love. If
you obey my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have obeyed my
Father's commands and remain in his love. I have told you this so that my joy
may be in you and that your joy may be complete. My command is this: Love each
other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down
his life for his friends. You are my friends if you do what I command. I no
longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master's business.
Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father
I have made known to you. You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed
you to go and bear fruit—fruit that will last. Then the Father will give you
whatever you ask in my name. This is my command: Love each other. [John 15:9-17]