I thought I was just going to church. But I was wrong.

Around three o’clock this afternoon, I was feeling particularly vibrant. I saw my friend Carol online and decided to IM her. “When are we going to hang out?” I asked. “How about tonight?” she replied. And so we did. We decided to have coffee at the Starbucks in Oakton at 5:30. I got there and we ordered our drinks. She got a mocha-somethingorother, and I got a big ol’ hot chocolate.

Note to self: Go back to that Starbucks sometime and talk to the girl server with the short blonde hair.

Carol and I sat down at a table and began a 2-hour dialog. We talked about a number of interesting, amusing and informative things. We caught up (I had little to say other than I was still unemployed) and talked about family, future goals, spiritual lives, and jobs, as well as reminisced about the first time we met. When 7:15 rolled around, we bid each other adieu, and the two of us parted ways beneath a large yellow moon.

I arrived at church just in time, but did not find any of my friends in our usual seats. I knew Jamie, Robby and Sharon were in Florida, but where were Adam and Deanne? When the service was over (and, indeed, it was a fine service), I spotted Veronica and Tracy & asked them about the absence of my other friends. “They have a show tonight in Annapolis,” Veronica said. “Are you serious?” I exclaimed. She was. Apparently, I had somehow missed out on that bit of information. “That sucks balls,” I said.

It was 9:30, and as I headed for my car in the parking garage, I decided I would venture back to Starbucks to test my luck with that blonde girl. But first, I wanted to call Joel to see if they were doing anything after the show. Talking to him, I discovered two things: 1) the band didn’t get on stage until 10:30, and 2) the place was really easy to drive to. So—hell’s bells—I decided to get my butt on the beltway and go to the show.

It was exactly 10:30 when I arrived. The place was packed with little high schoolers. “Egads,” I thought, “It’s going to be one of those kinds of shows.” Former Ghoti Hook guitarist, Mark was filling in for my brother. I found a good seat on the side of the stage to sit and watch the show. Deanne and Michelle were somewhere in the crowd. A few songs into the set, Adam’s sister Aimee and her husband Felix arrived and sat beside me. We cheered the boys on (not really, but it seems like we should have), and after the show, we stood around and talked. It was the first time I got to talk to Felix. He and Aimee are a couple of fun, wacky folks. We left the venue and headed back to northern Virginia. The boys unloaded the van & we all headed to Amphora’s in Vienna.

I was the first to arrive. I checked the tables to see if anyone else was there. I went into the non-smoking section and there was Anna (see last journal entry). I was hoping she’d be our server for the evening, but alas, it was not to be. We sat in the right section, but we had another server (I later discovered this was because Anna was getting off work within the hour). We sat at a table for seven: Joel, Adam, me, Deanne, Michelle, Felix and Aimee. It was a round booth, settled nicely in the corner of the restaurant. We had a delightful conversation and the food was delicious (I had a fried egg sandwich w/ American cheese…again). Deanne gave me a Christmas gift from Janna. (Shhhh… It was a glass with the Playboy logo on it. “This is to help you in your quest to become a player,” Janna wrote in her card.)

Three-thirty came, and we decided to leave and go home. We said our goodbyes, I drove back to South Riding, and here I am now. Tomorrow night is New Year’s Eve, and we’re going to the Black Cat in D.C. to celebrate and get plastered. …and hit on chicks. I can’t wait.

Mes amis m’ont dit de demander à la serveuse dehors. Elle était jeune et assez et a eu un accent européen. Je certainement aurais, ai eu mon frère non été si grossier à elle. Elle a parlé dans l’anglais cassé, et mon frère (étant bu comme le reste d’eux) a ri de ce qu’elle a dit, alors qu’elle se tenait exacte derrière lui. “Qui sera votre chose,” a dit Jeff, “Vous devez demander à une serveuse dehors chaque fois que nous mangeons dehors. Juste comme cette fille aux Hooters.” Je n’ai pas parlé à la serveuse la nuit passé d’Amphora, autre qu’à la parole “vous remercie” et “oui, s’il vous plaît.” Mais son accent m’a intrigué, et j’ai pensé qu’elle était belle. Une autre heure, peut-être. Jusque demander à des serveuses dehors, l’idée m’intéresse—ne fût-ce que pour le défi. Et Dieu sait, il ne pourrait pas blesser mon vie inexistante d’amour.

I finally went to see Amélie again last night. This time, at the Regal theater in Ballston. Finding a companion to go with me ended up an impossible task, so I chose to go alone. Again.

When I stepped into the theater, I was astonished at how full the room was. The last time I had seen the movie in Fairfax City, I was barely the only one there.

Aside: The movie was released on November 9, and just dropped out of the Box Office Top 10 this week.

After glancing the attendees over, I was amused and slightly embarrassed. The crowd was made up of old couples, mothers & daughters, and girlfriends, as well as native French-speakers. To my knowledge, I was the only young man in the theater. I know—it was a demographic paradise, but I couldn’t help quietly sitting down and falling low in my seat.

The pre-movie banter consisted of the girls above me demanding that their friends enjoy the movie, an old couple beside me quipping about the husband’s tendency to fall asleep during movies, and a French mother and daughter a row up conversing in French (understood only partially by me). As the movie began, another old couple came in and sat down in front of me. The man would end up being the most enjoyable element of the movie-going experience.

The film showed itself (it was two hours—I won’t go into the details). The old man in front of me laughed and laughed during the entire movie (for it was, indeed, funny). His wife would always jokingly slap his arm to get him to quite down, but it would never work, and she would end up laughing with him.

The woman beside me would lean forward and look at her husband’s eyes, which were—more often than not—closed. But he wasn’t snoring, so she let him be.

I couldn’t see or hear anyone else in the theater until the movie ended. When the lights came on, I got up and looked behind me. I saw many pretty faces with large smiles. The girls enjoyed the film. In fact, everyone did, because there was an endless sea of smiles, and some folks were still applauding the film as the credits rolled.

I left the theater and had a quiet—but enjoyable—drive home. I was sorry I couldn’t share the film’s magic with someone else (which is a story, in itself). Such goodness, kindness, and beauty is scarce to find and demands to be shared, as well as acknowledged over and over again and fully appreciated when and where it exists. Amélie is indeed a thing of beauty, but as I drove home and as the night drew to a close, I thanked God for one thing…

Ce n’est pas la seule belle chose dans ma vie.

Well, it’s official. My big bro is getting married. He proposed to Sharon on Christmas Eve. They were at an outdoor ice rink in D.C. He led her to the center, kneeled before her and proposed. She said yes.

I think it’s starting to click. I’m more open to the possibility of meeting new people at Frontline. There used to be a barrier—between the church, as a whole, and myself. It had something to do with correct theology. Thus, my reservations influenced how I saw the people that attended. I also used to think Frontline was basically a meat shop for single Christians—a holy dating service, if you will. But such distractions to my perception have left by now—thank God. Now, I feel comfortable attending the Frontline services and look forward to Sunday evenings with much anticipation. I’m starting to make the effort to meet new people. I’m determined to meet someone new at Frontline each and every week.

This weekend (which included my party on Friday), I was fortunate to meet a few new Frontliners and get to know others more. Jonathan, Cheryl, Amanda and Pete were at my party. Other than Amanda, I had met the others before, but hadn’t talked much with them. I was able to talk with Amanda for a while & had a very interesting conversation with Jonathan concerning French film. On Sunday night, I was able to talk with Laurel and her friend Cheryl (yes, another one), who is a sculptor and a designer, as well as someone with very strong reservations about the movie Fellowship of the Ring. I’ve begun to discover many interesting people within the Frontline community. “It was nice to meet you,” I’d say to them. And indeed it was.

I used to avoid meeting new people. All my life, I’ve been the quiet wallflower hidden in the shadows of the perimeter. But now I find the task refreshing and enjoyable, and I wonder why I don’t do it more often. Walking into a room and greeting others by name (and being greeted by them) can be therapeutic to a lonely soul. However, one must give of himself and make the effort to initiate such acquaintances and friendships. And that’s where I find myself now—a friendship starter. There are some friendships I pay more attention to than others, but I should be conscious of the importance of them all. Sometimes I allow romantic interests to dominate my mind and my time. It is a pitfall I am ever watchful for. Those are not the only types of friendships to sacrifice for or devote myself to. In fact, a simple handshake and greeting from an acquaintance or friend can be just as rewarding as a smile and a quiet hello from that special love interest.

And such is my quest. There is no special person in my life (or at least not one who reciprocates my interest), so I will be a friend to all. If it is friendship I seek, then I will be the friend others seek.