Suprises

I'm sure one day I'll write a book detailing my life. I'm not sure what the book will be about, exactly, but I have a few ideas, most of which directly relate with each other.

• Jesse Chapman: A Twisted Tale of Sex, Drugs, and Lies: In the first idea, I'll write a book about my friendships and relationships from a first person autobiographical perspective. I'd probably focus on some high school stuff, but mostly talk about each specific relationship.
• "Good Mornin', FPC!": This book would be a total autobiography of me in high school, and it would sell millions. I'd detail more about my relationships with Bill Delbrugge and Judy Vanderoef.
• College is a Movie Starring Jesse Chapman: I'd have to write a book about my first year at college. This would be a hard task to come up with an entire book full of information and material related to college, but I'd try my best.
• "two know: a novel": In this book, I'd write a fictional story expanding on the "two know" video project that I recently completed. The story would star Natalie and Daniel, and it would detail their lives and how they met. It could either be first person perspective from Daniel or third person.
  

This book will never be made, I promise you.

Or I could just write a book about my life entirely. There would be so much to put in it, though. I don't know where I'd start. I'd have to make the opening line a Good Hook, so people would want to read more of my book. So, I could start out with:

"When Judy first moved to Palm Coast, she had no idea that her web-site would attract the CEO of Penthouse Magazine."

Either way, I think that people would find a book about my life interesting. I mean, if Bill Clinton can make a book, then why can't I?

Speaking of Bill Clinton, the Presidential election is coming up in a few days. Everyone on the UCF campus is pretty radical about it. There was an article in our newspaper detailing how people were defacing cars and replacing car bumper stickers with their own candidate's.

I hope that news of such stupidity doesn't surprise anyone. With all the advertisements on television, it's easy to see where UCF students get these crazy ideals of vandalism. Bush and Kerry have made it their goal this year to not only provide the public with news of what they support, but also news of how their opposing candidate's entire life has been a lie.

People go so far as to forge documents and sent them to major news corporations. Something about this entire election process seems "off" to me. Shouldn't we worry about which candidate will do a good job in the future, and let go of the inconsistencies of their pasts?

I'm not sure who I'm voting for yet. In fact, I have some thoughts of not even voting. Yeah, I know. Shoot me now. Anyone who dare claims that they don't feel like voting might as well jump off a building for fear of a worse death by a political Nazi. Instead of voting this year, I've decided to create my own political campaign. Just hear me out:

Now, I know what you're thinking: Why in the world didn't Bush and Kerry think of this? Well, to be quite honest, I'm not sure why they didn't think of this earlier. The plan goes like this: Instead of simply voting for one of the candidates this year, just vote for both of them. This will make things much easier for you because, now, you don't even have to choose! What better way to compromise with your friends who, some of which, want you to Invade Iraq, and others who want you to talk about your old times in Vietnam!

This man will be the logo:
"Kerry the Bush '04"

Now, if you're really interested in who you should vote for in this year's election, you should definitely check out President Match, presented by TIME.

I recently had a surprise visit from my girlfriend (isn't there a better word than that?) Rachel Kindergan, which is one of the reasons why I haven't had the chance to update my journal the past few days. For those of you who don't know, Rachel currently lives in Virginia. We met each other in a summer theatre class at our old high school (the class is unfortunately no longer offered). At the end of the summer, she moved back to Virginia, but we kept in relatively constant contact over the past years.

So the story goes:

Last Wednesday night, I got a phone call about 8:00 PM from my good friend Amanda Westerhouse (Amanda and Rachel became pretty good friends when Rachel visited Florida this past summer.) Amanda rattled off a bunch of confusing directions to me on the phone. I'm sure that she really made sense, but I was so overwhelmed and confused by what she said, I didn't really remember much of what she said.

AmaAma799: Hello Mr. Chapman. Listen very carefully.
Me_Me_Me: What?
AmaAma799: You are going to get into your car and go to the nearest convience store. There, you will pick up a two-liter of Dr. Pepper. Afterwards, you will remove the cap. Then you will go to Orlando International Airport and pick up a package. Go to the Southwest baggage claim, and your package will be waiting for you. Write the following number down: 799. What are you wearing?
Me_Me_Me is totally confused.
Me_Me_Me: Wait a second, what's going on? Is this, like, a math question you have -- like one of those logic problems? I remember a problem like this, but it was a bus driver, and he picks up people and drops them off, and you're supposed to answer, "What color are the bus drivers eyes?" Is it like that.
AmaAma799: You have to do exactly what I said. Be at the Orlando International Airport by 9:00 PM, and your package will be waiting for you there.
Me_Me_Me: Uhh...alright...?
AmaAma799: Any more questions?
Me_Me_Me: Uhh...alright...?
AmaAma799: Good-bye.

You see, I wasn't joking when I said the thing about the math problem. The way I took the phone call, it seemed like she was asking me some sort of question, or...something. Anyway, I wrote down the claim number and went to the airport.

I immediately thought it was Rachel waiting for me at the airport, but I didn't want to get my hopes up. Rachel had told me the day before that she was airmailing me a package overnight through FedEx -- things that she couldn't get to me on my birthday (two days earlier). So, I was thinking to myself that the claim number was way too short for a package. Sounded like a flight number to me (I'm not that stupid, despite popular belief from the audience).
you know you laughed at this

In this digitally unaltered photograph, British folk Daniel Bedingfield wears a neck brace after a horrible car accident that almost cost him his life. Ironically, he's wearing a Superman shirt. Ironically, he's not dead. Ironically, Superman broke his neck, and is dead.

I MapQuested my way to Orlando International Airport so I wouldn't get lost. On the way down to my car, I started talking to myself (something I like to do when I need to organize my thoughts). I couldn't wait to get to the airport to see what awaited me. Deep down inside, I could feel that Rachel was close, but I really didn't want to get my hopes up. I think I would have cried if it was my package sitting there on a counter waiting for me.

I spiraled up the parking garage and parked my car in 1-E. I walked through the double-glass sliding doors and went down the elevator. I couldn't stand completely still. Could it really be Rachel? Something like this would take extreme coordination and planning. Could Rachel truly be mrs_plans? I didn't have the answers to these questions. All I had at the time was an elevator full of British folk. They were nice.

I'm not sure who has been to Orlando International before, so I'll go ahead and say that it's extremely confusing. There are sixteen elevators that all look like they go to the same place, but they really don't. Elevator one takes you to the terminal, elevator two takes you to the dining area, elevator three takes you to the bookstores, elevator four takes you to parking, elevator five takes you to the ticketing counter, elevator six takes you to security, elevator seven takes you to the bathrooms, elevator eight takes you to the baggage claim, elevator nine takes you to the janitor's closet, elevator ten takes you to Universal Studios, elevator eleven takes you to elevator twelve (and vice versa), elevator thirteen takes you to Iraq, elevator fourteen takes you to Judy Vanderoef's house, elevator fifteen takes you to Michael Bolton's house, and elevator sixteen takes you to Hell (elevator fifteen can also take you there).

I took elevator eight, obviously. The only problem is that the Southwest baggage claim was all the way down at the other end of the airport. At least I was on the right floor, I thought. So, I began walking. Somewhere along the lines, I decided to go walk on the outside of the building (where you can pickup people -- there is a parallel walkway outside). I walked all the way down, but I didn't see any package or any Rachel outside. It was right then when I got a text message on my phone from Rachel.

Although that's a really crappy graphic rendering of my cell phone and the text message that I got, you get the idea.

I walked in through the double-glass sliding doors at the end of the walkway, looked to my right, looked to my left -- and there she was. I walked over towards her, looked to my right, looked to my left, spotted a man, who indeed shouted, "HELLO!" at me, to which I replied, "YEAH, HEY!"

She smiled.

I smiled.

Title: Never Gonna Eat Your Fries
Artist: Daniel Bedingfield

I ordered some ham and I want thirds
Some salad in my bowl
Some barbecue wings
With meat and not just bones
I want the biggest steak I can afford
Please cook it well-done
My order has begun

Salsa and chips is what I crave
Bring ‘em out on a tray
Set them next to me
My friends ‘ell have the same
On a side note, Judy has fake hair
Rogaine is not to blame
She wears a toupee

I don’t know why I told you that, maybe it’s just a warning
I didn’t mean to switch subjects and change the pace
My meal hasn’t come yet, so I ate some fries from you
and I’ve been sick everyday
[throws up]

and I'm never gonna eat your fries
and I'm never gonna eat your fries again
still throwing up girl
You probably didn’t wanna know
But when I’m puking on your arms
I know you’ll groan

She got up and came over to meet me in my stride. I immediately put my arms around her and she walked into the me, pushing me up against the wall. We kissed and then held on to each other.

It took us about twice as long to get out of the airport than it did for me to get in. I couldn't help but stop every few minutes and hug her, or just look into her eyes and realize that I accidentally took the fifteenth elevator (bad news, there, kids). No one has ever surprised me like that before -- ever.

We spent the following two nights in a hotel room that she booked before coming down. At the time, she didn't know that girls were allowed to stay in the dorms on campus with the consent of the roommates. Regardless, it would have been weird for the two of us to share almost a dorm bed (dorm beds seem to be twice as long, and half as wide). While in Orlando, we ate at Friday's and had Daniel Bedingfield as our waiter. While waiting on us, he performed such hits as, "The Meal's Free at Friday's," "Gotta Get Fried Shrimp," "If You're Bread is Done," and the hit classic, "Never Gonna Eat Your Fries" (lyrics available on the side).

On Friday, we came home for the weekend and spent some time with Jill, Judy, and Jamie. Jill, Jamie, Rachel, and I went to see The Grudge in Jacksonville. I'd recommend this movie to anyone who wants to be scared, but doesn't really care about seeing a "quality" film. I didn't think the plot was very good at all -- in fact, there really wasn't a plot, but boy was it scary (at least I thought so). We ate a Chic Fila afterwards. Rachel didn't feel very good after eating there (probably the music they were playing -- CREED). So, I dropped Jamie and Jill back off at Jill's house, and Rachel and I went home for the night.

We spend most of the time at my home in Palm Coast. It's so hard for us to ever get anything accomplished -- like shopping, going to parks or ice-skating, or just going and visiting places. Because I don't get a chance to see her very often, and usually not for very long, we spend most of our time together. I'm selfish, what can I say? We ate at he local "Lucky Buffet" Chinese restaurant and had a pretty decent meal. I tried to eat some crab and nearly threw up (see song lyrics on left).

Long story short, we had a truly amazing visit. I'm going to be visiting her again on the 10th of November. I'll be following basically the same schedule she did when she came down here -- down on Wednesday, up on Sunday. She's going to try and come down for Thanksgiving. I will be extremely sad if she can't make it down, but I will understand. Plane fairs are extremely expensive around the holidays -- almost $400 for a round trip flight when normally you can fly for about $160 - $230. She could always use another means of transportation, (e.g., raft, canoe, hovercraft, kite, etc.). And for the holidays, I'll be traveling by car up to Virginia to spend Christmas with her and her family. She'll come back down after Christmas and spend the rest of semester break with me in Florida. Hopefully, I'll one day be able to see Amanda Westerhouse again. Without Amanda, Rachel's surprise visit would have been much harder and probably not successful. I thank Amanda from the bottom of my heart for her efforts in espionage and planning. Too bad she's probably dead by now (c'mon...the girl does live in Tallahassee).