the online journal of jordan e.

Prelude to a Turkey Dinner
In these finals hours before Thanksgiving break, I reflect upon the Pilgrims and the Wampanoag Indians and their harmonious celebration...
Not really. About this time I'm thinking about a few other things...
1. Will my heatless danger-mobile make it across the state over snow and ice tonight?
2. Will I actually read that entire novel and write those two papers over my precious days of break?
3. Will Grandma make her fruit salad on Thursday? Because if she doesn't, I'm lighting fire to the kitchen.
4. Will my brother, Jonah, who is turning 17 on Sunday like the Mary Kate and Ashley video I got for him?

There are so many questions to be answered and so much green bean casserole to eat. Have a happy Thanksgiving everyone!

posted by Jordan @ 11:14 fm

Last weekend God poured kerosene over my heart and lit a match.
The conference, Life Options, last Saturday and Sunday was amazing to say the least. It was about understanding God's purpose for you after graduation. In between the intense speaking and worship, though, I also got to know some great people from MSUM and experienced God filling me with a consuming passion.
I didn't leave knowing exactly what post-graduation time would bring, but God is still pouring on the lighter fluid and I am on the verge of dancing like David.

posted by Jordan @ 11:55 em

Semester Evidence
Since I'm an English Writing major you probably have suspected that my homework isn't algebra equations and biology labs. Rather, my most recent semesters have been filled with poetry, newswriting, short stories, etc. And while some of my fine professors haven't been devout fans of my work, I figured I'd sic my pages on you and see how they fare.
With that, I will warn you of the inevitable artsy fartsy feel we have been encouraged to use and will simply say enjoy...hopefully.

(This is from my Poetry 308 course and is about a discovery of conception dates I made when I was about thirteen. Most of the stuff in this poem has stemmed from my imagination, so don't try to confirm these facts with my parents at the next family reunion.)


RSVP Ignored

I imagined their wedding dance. My mom in her starched,
lacey-white, wedding/rodeo cowboy hat and my dad keeping
a beat with only the occasional squat and sway of his
gray, tuxed hips. And while they maybe two-stepped to a little
John Denver, a corsaged Aunt Kathy manned
the guestbook - the one with the enormous plumed pen that
ran out of ink somewhere between Great Uncle Leonard and a
guy named Louis. Did someone scratch my name
down in those gray, embossed pages? I was there, too.

I was there humming along to “Country Roads” and feeling
the waltzing chafe of Grandpa Shermer’s midsection as he
shuffled through a dollar’s worth of dance. Between twirls
and dips on church linoleum and small talk with the
horn-rimmed organist, I noted the joke repertoire coming from
Uncle George and other inebriated uncles congregated
near the cake. Preludes of “a guy walks into a bar” and
“one man says to another man” were met with snorts
and slaps on suited knees and bites of marble cake smothered
in white frosting. And with each punch line, I snuggled
deeper into the first trimester.

I hope Mom sipped a Grainbelt that night.
I hope she cinched the fluffy frock up tight.
I hope that they had no idea I was there, hiding
somewhere between her bladder and spleen, already
developing a taste for dancing around in dresses.

posted by Jordan @ 4:28 em

Fright Night (Part Deuce)
To make a long story short, a group of us ate the Swedish delicacy also known as "pile of clear Jell-o with flakes of cod trapped in it." It was nasty and I think mine still had a substantial tail. But the senior citizen Scandinavian crowd, lefse, etc made up for the horrid piles of fish matter.
After the wholesome meal, I dressed up with Amber as an eighties' lady. Between the hot pink, crimped hair and acid-washed skirt that went clear up to my armpits, our duds were "totally mint" - maybe even "tubular." We went out with Kara and John who were dressed up as "The Fonz" and a butterfly (not respectively) and scaled the streets in my beast searching for a shindig to crash. We ended up finding zilch so Amber and I bid adieu and went to meet some others at Coach's, one of the local bar establishments. Coach's turned out to be a sort of meat market full of drunken characters like the man dressed in a full Snoopy costume who harassed me. All in all, it wasn't too shabby and I think Amber and I were both able to call the night "radical" at its end.
Now, almost a week later, I am not thinking about our sweet 1987 look, but about eluding the grips of hypothermia as I truck it across campus. We now have snow and it's so cold already that the snow is doing that frigid squeaky thing when you step on it. To make matters worse, it seems that a rodent or some other teething creature (Jacob, perhaps?) has gnawed through a wire of my car's heating system that my dad cleverly rigged. I don't know if I should be more concerned about a rat possibly pouncing on me while driving or about dying a slow, freezing death when I take the four hour drive home on Thanksgiving. Then again, I could prepare for a rodent attack by driving with a stolen fork from Juano's, skin the little weasel and make a nice wrap to keep me warm. Situation under control, friends.

posted by Jordan @ 5:00 em

Fright Night (Part I)
It was Friday, October 31. No costume party was in the plans nor were any pumpkin buckets full of Milky Ways for trick-or-treaters. Rather, there was a thirty minute road trip to Richmond, North Dakota for a lutefisk dinner. (More to come on the gelatinous fish...)

posted by Jordan @ 11:57 em