guys this is how rad ming is...this greets me tonight while i am eating my chili after frisbee:



This is how bored I was/am

Ok, so tickets are going to cost us including taxes and fees about $230-240 each. We could always drive but then that would take like days...lol Wait...snap nvm I thought I found tickets for like 170...but with tax they were like 260. lol
Hotels are pretty much going to kill us like it'll be $780 for six nights if you average it about $130 a night...
I don't even want to think about a rental car...lol
Yeah but I had fun looking it up...lol and I'm sure you could find stuff cheaper but I didn't spent alot of time on it. =P
It would be amazing though hahaha wow I laugh at myself. I'm such a nerd, but I promise you one day I will go =P And it would be cheaper to go with my family, and I'll just take you along, if you think you could deal with my family for like 2 weeks. =P
Lets see...we are going to Cornerstone and I hope Shoreline too. I really want Francis Chan and Brian Colmery to speak when we go too...lol
Then we can like go to the San Diego Zoo and I'm sure there's other stuff in California but my main concern is going to the church there. lol

Ok ok and I have this like idea that when we go to Cornerstone (when not if =P) you are going to meet this amazingly godly humble leader, yet amazing cute surfer guy who is exactly 6ft (so he's not to tall but yet he's taller than me =P) He'll be tan and either have black hair and piercing blue eyes orrr sandy beach blonde hair with emerald green eyes (like all the guys in Ted Dekker's books seem to have). Ohhh and he'll either have a some sort of cool accent. you will fall desperately in love with him (I haven't decided on a name yet...I'm looking for a guy name that starts with an L because that would be cute but Larry just doesn't work...) and vise versa. He'll fly back to NC while we drive back so as to meet your parents and make them fall in love with him too. Thennn like after you guys are married he'll either move here or take you back to CA which if that were to happen I of course would have to go along with you and we could serve at Cornerstone and like help with CHF and it would be awesome.


I hope you have found some entertainment out of this lol I had fun writing it.
Love you dearly (edidted a short part here that you don't need to read :P)

Ming



oh and ming...sorry but larry is not quite the name i am looking for...so you can take that off of your list...oh yea and he doesn't have to surf either...actually i don't think i want a surfer.

my mind was wondering that day...to a place i had never been, but one that i would love to visit over and over again. i don't know how i got there, for if i did i would be there right now, living it again, but all i have is to tell a story of my visit: i was wondering down a desolate road on a crisp fall morning, dew gently placed on each and every blade of grass and decaying leaf. i slowly found myself walking towards a sign titled "memory lane." quickly i pick up my pace too see what road could deserve to hold such a name. i find myself staring very closely at my surroundings, more then i usually would have. the closer i look i begin to see each piece of the landscape titled with a anecdote beneath. i bend down to pick up a stray leaf to study it closer, stamped on the rotting, aged leaf is a memory. one that was cherished, but sadly forgotten. i read it over and over. then stuffed it quickly in my fading pocket, and rushed to pick up another, it was a fresh, brightly colored, leaf. this another special moment sadly forgotten. i stood in silence for a moment wishing i could return to each specific place and time and recount every experience, cherishing it all over again. slowly tears rolled down my cheeks as i remembered each moment with vivid clarity. the tears subsided as i met my fate, it could never happen. i bent down to retrieve a lonely flower, only to discover that it had a story too. but not like any other story. no this one was different, this one was very very old. a story i wasn't present for, but very much a part of. i read it over and over again, each time bringing new meaning. joy overtook me, i couldn't contain myself, i began to dance down the road, the fall leaves began gliding from the tree's with new memories as i danced.

my morning didn't start out to hot...well let's just say i was rather angry...we got a call last night that someone wanted to look at our house...so if our house wasn't already clean...it turns spotless.
i had two tests i had to take today in Computer Literacy..easy you make think but this class has turned out to be more of a pill then i thought it would be. I couldn't start the tests because i was supposed to leave the house and my test was online. so i waited to take the test till about 11...and i really have a thing for getting schoolwork done early. that angered me much more then it should have, i didn't feel like rolling with it...

so i take snickers and leave the house and go do my devo's, amazing how God can totally change my attitude, won't really going into it because i don't think i could properly put it into words

baked some cornbread muffins that turned out fantabulously...and they taste pretty great!

I open my hand and blow the petals away. Each vibrant color representing a memory that I would like to part with. There are a few that linger there so softly. It would be painful to blow them again, so I pick up my paint brush and gently try to cover them. I look down at my hand: there lies a colorful array of tears and paint. I use this new mixture to sweep across the tainted white canvas that you have given me. It was brand new, but the dirt of my life has left a stain. Where there should be white, there are words instead and quick passages of thoughts. Passages that lead to bridges and ditches; roads going somewhere I don't know. So I'm going to try to start brand new on something that is stained. I'm going to paint me a road where I should have returned many miles ago. I am going to paint a bridge to cross the ditch that I made for myself. There's not enough dirt in this wheelbarrow to fill the scar on my heart, but there's enough wood to try and fix it. I never thought I'd see the day when the foundations for this bridge would be laid, but here they are, made with both our hands. Mine with swirls of the palest, of colors sparkling from the teardrops - yours shades of the richest, finest, and darkest forms of red. Red from your own blood, shed for me