So, go check it out! He's got two stories already written and uploaded. His site will also be seeing some drastic changes as we figure out what looks right for him. Who knows - we may even create a blog for Phoenix, where he can showcase his artwork.

Willik's World

So if you really like to keep up with me, keep checking out the new site. I'll be updating it plenty in the coming weeks. For now, it just has a simple design template someone else created. I've got big plans for it - I just hope I can get the bulk of it done prior to school starting back up (September 20th).

Thanks to you who keep up with this sporadic blog. I hope I'll be more proactive with Fab's Adventures.

A small, exciting adventure:

I was probably about 15 years old. The story takes place in Philadelphia, where most streets are full of row homes that have alleys behind them.

Down the street from my house lived my aunt and a couple of my cousins. One of those cousins, J, was a few years older than me. I was convinced that he sold pot and made lots of cash. As I think about it now, he was probably just good at saving his money from his work as a DJ. One day, my younger cousin, T, told me that J was not home and that there was a large roll of twenty dollar bills on his dresser. I immediately went into the house, entered J's room, and took two twenties.

By that time, I had heard about a guy that was selling fireworks out of his garage. I got in touch with him and spent all the money on the biggest fireworks he had. In the mix, I purchased some M-80s, bottle rockets, firecrackers, jumping jacks, and 12 small mortar shells with launcher. If you do not know what some of these are, the main one you need to know is the mortar shell. It comes with a tube launcher. You have what looks like a ball with a long fuse. You drop the ball into the launching tube, light the fuse, step away (some people run away), and wait for it to launch. The mortars are small versions of what you would see at a regular fireworks show. Only at close range, it feels like it is just as big.

Me and a few friends got together in an empty lot and began enjoying some of our new fireworks. This lot only had one main entrance from the street. It was behind some houses, next to a factory on one side, another side was bordered by a small wooded area, and the other side was adjacent to the train tracks. While we were lighting some firecrackers, a couple of police cars and firetrucks showed up. We ran through the small wooded area till we got to the corner of the next block. When we got there, I realized that I left one of the bags at the site. My devious mind came up with a classic plan - diversion. I put the mortar launcher on the ground, dropped a mortar in, and lit it up. By that time, my friends ran down another street and into another alley. Right when the mortar exploded in the air, I heard sirens as the police and firetrucks started to drive to my location.

I ran back through the wooded area, peeked through the trees, and ran to my other bag of fireworks. I grabbed it and made a dash across one street, then down my back alley right into my house. It was very thrilling and filled my body with adrenaline. Soon after I got into my house, I heard more sirens and a helicopter circling around. I felt like I made it big time when I saw the spotlight shining in people's back yards. I'm now thinking about the tax dollars wasted on a couple of kids having fun.

I'll never know for sure if that helicopter was really searching for me or if some other crime had been committed around the same time. At the time, I was certain they were looking for me. I just stayed in my house, feeling very clever. Sure, I could have gotten away without shooting off another firework, but then I would have been missing a bag of fireworks. Besides, where's the fun in getting away without much risk? Pushing my limits is the story of my life.

We got a little family of gerbils, which most New Yorkers would avoid. I believe it was last year that we bought the gerbil cage for our kids, promising to buy them a couple of gerbils as pets. The problem is that it is rare to find a couple of young gerbils in a pet store in New York. I think they too closely resemble rats or people fear that they'll draw more rats into an already rat infested city. We got the gerbils in Maryland where they are abundant! The pet store we went to said that they had four baby gerbils that were born the day prior. We would have to take the mother if we wanted them. Also, we were told that if we didn't take the baby gerbils, they would become snake food. What a way to coerce my empathetic wife. So far, they're healthy except for one of the babies. This morning, we found one dead baby gerbil - natural selection, I guess.

As far as the rest of the summer, I had plans on writing more and doing more personal reading. Neither has really happened yet. The only personal reading I've done is very sporadic and interrupted by children. I go back to work tomorrow and I hope that I'll be disciplined enough to start some writing for the rest of the summer. Maybe this blog entry is a start. Man, looking at my last post I see it has been way too many months to even expect anyone to still be checking this blog. Somehow, there's always been somebody reading it.

I'm still doing school, school, school. I'm more used to it by now. In fact, I should be doing homework, but I'm just gonna go to bed. I was up for more than 24 hours straight because of school and work. I can't let that keep happening.

I really just want to write something about Jesus. To some people, it may sound like I'm being mystical and/or mythical. At this point in my life, I really don't care, because He is alive and real and tangible. I recently had a dream with Him in it and I can't stop feeling so much peace about it. I've been debating on whether it is something for me to share or not, but I really feel I need to.

I had the dream in the first week of February, while Glaucia and I were on a small getaway celebrating our 8th anniversary. The dream started off somewhat fast-paced. I kept finding myself in some different scene. One that I remember clear is that I was in the corner store from my old 7th Street house in Philly where I grew up. Somebody in the store was taking advantage of the owner, who had a hard time with English. I began yelling at the person and felt disgusted at how often people disrespect each other and try to cheat each other. I left the store and just kept getting more and more upset at how screwed up we are. We don't trust each other. We are always trying to make/save a buck. If someone is a stranger, it is easy to disregard their feelings or their entire life.

The dream was full of different situations where people were just acting in complete ignorance. There were all kinds of acts of injustice and cheating. At one point, I was in a white hallway with my back against a wall and a door to my left. There was something outside the door that was enjoying the corruption and trying to keep everyone in disarray. I was getting exhausted and just wanted that thing to stop messing everyone up.

Suddenly, to my right and far down the hallway, Jesus was walking toward me. He was calm and had a pleasant smile on His face as if He knew everything about me and loved all of me. I noticed that I was kind of praying and just whispering, "Yes, Lord. Yes, Jesus. Come close." He kept walking right towards me with that smile. I could see that He was aware of the corruptor, but it just didn't seem to bother Him as much as it bothered me. Something about His look said, "It won't last for long." As He got near, He just spoke naturally into the air with absolute certainty that He was heard by His Father. I'd say He was about 15 to 20 feet away from me when He started speaking and got closer as He spoke.

All He said was, "Father, remove from him all that is not Jesus and replace it with Christ." As He said this, I felt weaker and slowly began to fall forward. Right as He said the word, "Christ," He caught me with His right hand on my chest. It felt like some dead part of me continued to fall as Jesus held me up, all the while giving me that comforting smile. My strength returned and I stood up straight and grabbed Jesus' hand. It felt so good to be able to touch my God. I just kept exclaiming, "It is so good to see you!" He just kept smiling at me and said nothing else with words. He really didn't need to speak. I could just see so much in His eyes. All that love. All that understanding.

I began to wake up. Just as I was opening my eyes around 2:30am, I heard Him say something that didn't make any sense at all. He said, "Now how about that bald baseball cap and the black eyeball?" His tone sounded like He found it amusing to say this to me and that I would figure it out eventually. For the next few weeks, I kept trying to come up with interpretations of those words. Nothing really seemed to fit. I thought maybe I'd find some wierd photo in a magazine with someone wearing a visor and an eyepatch or something.

Then I went to Oklahoma City in March. One day, I happened to look at one of my T-Shirts I had just taken off. It is a black T-Shirt that has three yellow peeps wearing baseball caps backwards and gold chains. Underneath them, the shirt says, "Respect my peeps." The way the tops of the peeps' caps are designed looks like the cap is torn because it blends in with the color of the t-shirt. Also, the way the peeps are facing to one side, you only see one black eyeball on each.

So, my latest interpretation of Jesus' words are just to simply remember to Respect His Peeps. I started laughing when I noticed it. Jesus definitely has a sense of humor.

Despite me having more time to myself and family, I still haven't had much time to just stop and listen quietly. I'm looking forward to that opportunity next week. I'm going to Oklahoma City on Monday and coming back on Friday. I'm sure I'll be able to squeeze in some quiet prayer time during those few days I'm by myself.

After that, I should have real thoughts to post. Maybe an update or two on how I see my children growing or how Glaucia is finally doing so much art every day. Till then, thanks to all of you faithfully checking my blog, even though I never write here. I won't let my fans down! :)

I just want to warn anyone delaying school. DO NOT DELAY!!! Finish as early as possible. Once you are married and have kids, it really adds stress and frustration to your life - as if there already isn't enough of that.

I was just wondering what it means when everything that happens feels like an interruption. It doesn't matter what it is. Phone calls, conversations, television, radio, work, school, stolen cars, slashed tires, kids screaming -- everything just feels like an interruption. An interruption to what? Who knows? All I know is that I feel like I cannot have 5 minutes to myself without being interrupted by something. If I am alone for 5 minutes, it's usually to log onto school.

Now I'm just rambling. My eyes are very heavy. I'm tired. I want to sleep, but I still have homework to finish. I feel guilty for even taking this break to ramble on my blog. I better get back to school. I got two years of this madness left. Let's see... average 4 hours sleep for 2 years....

Prior to yesterday's bonanza, he was very excited about soccer. He envisioned having full access to the ball, kicking it every time into the goal. What he got was a few glimpses of the ball, an occasional brush of it on his foot, trampling on by a mob, and about three good kicks.

He was crying, telling us he didn't want to play any more. It was a very critical moment in his life - and mine as a father. I could see in his eyes that he couldn't understand the point of continuing. He could kick the ball all he wanted if it was just him, Phoenix, and dad. Why fight over the ball with a bunch of kids he's never met before? In the comfort of his grandparents' backyard, he could be a superstar. He pleaded with us to bring him home. He even left the field, crying. At this moment, I'm starting to tread new waters. I didn't want to be cold-hearted and yell at him, "Quit being a big baby and get back out there!" I also didn't want to cater to his near-sightedness by letting him get away with quitting. It would have been easy to tell myself that maybe he's not ready for this and we could try it again next year. I had a deep, strong feeling that if we quit, we'd be setting a standard of quitting for the rest of his life.

We told him to keep playing. It's okay if he doesn't kick the ball into the goal, or even if he doesn't kick the ball at all. I told him to stay on his feet and to stop jumping feet first at the ball. And if he falls, get up as soon as possible. He got back in and did all of that. He jumped a couple of times at the ball, but not as much and only out of habit (I guess that's something he does at school). He didn't cry any more. We all cheered for him very loudly.

After his time on the field, we told him how proud we were of him. He kept asking me yesterday why I was proud of him for getting hurt and for only kicking the ball seven times -- who knows where he came up with that number. I told him that I was proud of him for playing and not quitting. He doesn't have to score points for me to be proud. I told him that it doesn't feel strong when you are hurt and getting back up, but it is strong and makes you stronger.

Since yesterday, he's been saying how much he loves me. He keeps hugging me. I can see a sense of security in his eyes. I actually have no idea how he is feeling. I am so thankful that I have this opportunity to build up a future man. Just when parenting has been feeling like "Stop fighting!" "Don't do that!" "Go sit in your room!", God revealed a new part of it to me. This is a learning experience for me just as much as for him. I remember messing up often in sports as a kid, but instead of encouragement to keep going I was laughed at by my older cousins. I quit every extra-curricular activity after that, because I was allowed to quit. I quit the boy scouts the moment it became challenging. I quit basketball, track and field, cross country, musical instruments. I cannot remember a single activity I followed through with as a young person. The first challenging "event" I remember actually finishing without quitting was boot camp for the Marine Corps. That was a miracle, because I was ready to quit many times during boot camp.

All the glory and honor goes to God, who is leading me by the hand every day, showing me how to be a father to my boys.

Hebrews 12:1-3

Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. For consider Him who has endured such hostility by sinners against Himself, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.

All of that just to say to all of you considering online school - beware. If you have a steady enough schedule to attend college locally, do it. It is much easier to sit in class twice a week (part time school), than to put so much effort in every day of the week reading what other students have submitted as their homework. I only enrolled in school to get a Computer Science degree, not a teacher's. I have to admit, though, that I like getting feedback from other students on my homework. I believe in the idea that feedback from more people other than the teacher helps me to get a better picture of myself. I just don't have the time to devote to giving feedback on the other students' work.

Maybe other online schools aren't as time-demanding as Baker. I like the price of Baker College. Also, this is just the first class. I'm hoping that taking other classes that actually relate to my field of study will grab my attention more. This class has been full of learning about time management, planning life goals, working in groups, and even creating a mission statement for my life. All of those subjects are things I've been thinking I need to try to implement personally. A couple of them are also very unlike me. I'm not a planner, so anything that involves planning has the tendency of paralyzing and frustrating me. I've been trying to work on that, but to have all of it thrown at me within just two or three weeks has really hit me hard. I guess I would update my above statement to say that if you are a good planner, online school might not be a bad idea for you!

Things on the homefront are okay. Glaucia's working on a new design for Graffiti's website, but who knows when that'll be up. Willik is learning plenty about not giving up. Phoenix has definitely entered into the TERRIBLE two's stage. That is an answer to my prayers for patience! ;-)

Well, to those still reading my entries, thank you! Keep praying for me. I just signed up for online school at Baker College to get a Bachelors in Computer Science. I can't wait to get started and feel like something is getting accomplished! Hopefully, I'll be able to let everyone know how good (or bad) online school really is.

And please comment! I'd like to know who really reads this thing.

The craziest thing about all of this is that when I pause, pray, and remember, I feel peace and hope. If I start thinking about what things have gone wrong and the potential problems that might creep up, I can feel what the enemy wants me to feel. When I look on how these past few weeks have been and remember how God's people have pulled together, how great the hospital was that my brother went to, how I see my mom living with hope, and numerous blessings in between -- I can see that God is faithful and is working and has been working. If I give in to the fears of the enemy, I'll miss out on the hope God's providing. He's brought us this far, He's not going to forsake us now. God is REAL and ALIVE and ACTIVE.

It is scary and exciting to trust in God. I know He is working all things for the good of those that love Him, but the scary thing is how far He'll allow us to be stretched in the mean time (I mean, He wanted His Son to die on the cross!). Another scary thing is that I'm not losing hope, so I'm afraid God will allow Satan to stretch me further. Go ahead. If God allows it, then I'll still praise God, because He knows a heck of alot more than Satan.

These hard times have opened my eyes to God's power. He is fighting a tough battle with darkness and He's using us feeble, broken, lame believers as His warriors. That's gotta be a blow to Satan's pride! I can't wait to see what else is in store.

It's been good to have Glaucia back this whole week. Glaucia's still recovering from the 12-hour time zone adjustment, so she's been sleepy during times that we normally would get to talk. I haven't heard many of the stories yet from her trip, because she's just been too tired to stay awake when the kids are asleep. One thing I'm very excited about is one of the first things she said on the day she got back. She said we should start planning a mission trip to China and saving up for it. Awesome! I'm very excited about the new fire that's been kindled in her heart. I love the thought of our family being a missionary family.

I've been praying fervently every day about what my family's purpose is. I like the idea that we are a team with passions designed by God. I've been trying to make the focus of our household centered around God and on what He's created us to be. He created an artist in Glaucia. Since she's been a mother, she's sacrificed almost every moment of the past 4 years to not pursuing art as her daily life. While she's been gone, and when the kids have been sleeping, I've been trying to organize our apartment to give Glaucia some art space. I've been clearing out closets, drawers, and bins of clothes and stuff that I don't need. My apartment is still cluttered with too much stuff, but I've felt great having a focus on making art space for Glaucia. I began resurrecting art supplies that have been buried deep in our clutter and placing them into an accessible set of drawers. There is plenty to do, but I'm getting very close to having enough floor space to set up her drawing table. This is a piece of furniture she's had since her college days at F.I.T. and hasn't been alive for at least 8 years!

Making writing space for myself isn't as important to me, since I don't need much but a pen and paper (It just feels more natural than typing on a laptop). But I would like to create some space for delving into the geeky world of robotics. Not much experience in that area, just some supplies and a big fascination with programming machines.

Willik and Phoenix have most of the space dedicated to them. They've got almost our entire living room with toys they love to scatter everywhere. I've been attempting to spend more time in their world as opposed to giving them a little world to play in while I manage my own. I've noticed that they could be begging to play with the computer or PlayStation 2, but I could start building with Legos and they would join me and forget about all their demands for computer games. I need to remember that more often.

Today at Graffiti we had a guest speaker share about the parable of the master giving money to his three servants(found in Matthew 25:14-30). I like this parable. We often interpret this to mean that if you don't use your talents for God's glory, you will lose out on your reward in Heaven. I've been looking at this in a slightly different way. The "money" the master has given us is our moments in time that God has shown us what to do or say. Only you would know what those moments are. I know many moments in my life where I wasn't doing something bad, but I was ignoring a need that I saw in a person. It's easy to ignore a need in someone if they've never expressed that need by speaking up. People speak much louder than their words. I feel I've seen needs in people that I've ignored, because nobody is expecting me to respond. In that sense, I am as guilty as the servant who buried his money and didn't risk the investment of love and compassion in the tiniest, most unnoticed moments in my life. Here's an example that sounds VERY insignificant:

Last week, I saw a family parking in a spot in midtown. They all got out of the car. They looked like they were trying to figure out if they need to pay for the parking meter. This was Thanksgiving day. In New York City, nobody needs to pay parking meters on Federal holidays. I felt I could make their lives easier by just telling them that they don't need to pay the meter. I never told them. I think they figured it out for themselves. It was just the tiniest, unnoticed moment in anybody's life. But I strongly feel that those are the moments that we will be held accountable for. I can picture Jesus asking me what I was avoiding in that moment. I was just being a New Yorker. And that's my problem. I've been conformed to the mindset of my society and not to the mindset of the Spirit.

Right now, my moments to focus on are with my wife and children. I would love to change the world by empowering the common man with knowledge. I would love to organize the owners of little mom and pop stores to come together and create a system where they are not eaten alive by Big Box Mart. I would like to spread internet access to starving villages in remote parts of the world. But those are the big noticeable things that might get my name recognized by books and what not. The little moments that God has given me are the ones with my wife and kids. That's where I'll be held accountable on the day I'm introduced to eternity.

For the first time in months, my New York road rage crept its way in and I was ready to do whatever I could to annoy that guy. Images of me following him, tailgating and honking endlessly crossed my mind. God's presence kicked in and told me to pray for him. Nothing in me wanted to. I resisted all my temptations and asked God to bless that man. I asked that he could safely and quickly get where he needed to go and to give him strength to overcome his stressful life situations. As I prayed, I began to feel peace and a true desire for that man's welfare. Only the Spirit of God can do that.

I felt so powerless to overcome my anger. The only thing I could do was ask God. Victory does not feel victorious, it feels humbling. Thank you, God, for placing that man in my life to reveal my weakness.

10/7/2005
11:11am

Two strange dreams last night that I need to record.

First:

I was driving to "The Cup", a cafe in Long Island, by myself, except that I was talking to someone. I tried to cut through a parking lot, but the gate was closed, and I realized that I probably shouldn't drive through it anyway because its a post office. Oh, and it was night time. I parked the car on Sunrise Highway. I grabbed two jars of spaghetti sauce from the car, along with a small rug. I had the impression that I was trying to surprise Glaucia with all this. I wondered if I should put the two jars on the rug and carry it like a sack. I was afraid of doing that because the jars might fall, so I held one jar under my right arm against my side, the other in my right hand, and the rug I had bunched up in my left hand. I kept adjusting the rug and never felt satisfied with how I was holding it as I walked.

I walked through the outside of a restaurant, passing between many tables. Nobody was present, except one person inside the restaurant cleaning. I saw him through a window. I could tell people had been eating because the tables had small messes on them - like two glasses with ice and a little soda in them.

The street with the cafe was dark. When I got to the cafe, the door would not open. I saw a peice of cardboard on the door, written on with a green marker or crayon. I can't remember the exact words, but it said something like, "Keep trying. We like feely." I took it to mean, "Use your whole body's effort, we like touchy feely." All the lights were off and nobody was around, so I knew they were closed.

Like I said, I was by myself, but I was still talking to somebody (or two somebodies). They had a voice that I heard and a presence I could feel, but they were not physically present. It was their presence and voice that had the most impact on me.

When I was walking through the tables outside the restaurant, they were sounding anxious, nervous, worried, scared. Saying things like, "Why did everybody leave?"
"What's aboout to happen?"
"Oh no, they all left because something is going to happen."

It was like this over and over again. I was able to ignore them when I walked between the tables. When I got to the closed cafe, their worries were starting to have me think. And as I walked back toward the car - this time going on the sidewalk around the restaurant - the world began getting darker. Their worries seemed stronger, always persisting with the same phrases. I fought hard to keep walking without running in fear. I kept telling myself that I'll just get to the car in a little bit - I'm almost there.

I was never afraid of the voices. They felt like normal presences. Instead, I was almost feeling the same fears and worries that these voices had.

Then I woke up because Glaucia woke me up.

The second dream is not as detailed, though it has its own details, but covers a wider range of time.

Over a short time - I don't know if it means once a day, once a week, or once a month - there were several terrorist explosions. Each time it was in a public place, but seemed to be in parks or just outside of some woods. Each time, the explosion was caused by a bomb buried under the dirt. On top of the dirt where the bomb was buried, there was a small half circle made by four or five smooth stones. The stones were a little smaller than a cinder block. In the middle of the half-circle of stones was another stone about the same size as the others. Each explosion seemed to be set off by a curious person wondering what the arrangements of rocks was about. I also remember people having picnics around the bomb sites. I think this set up worked about 4 or 5 times. People were getting tired of these attacks and were begging for peace.

As a call for peace, a big concert was held in a large grassy area. Many people were around. I was also there. I watched as U2 was on the stage with some public figures. They weren't playing music yet; I think they were about to get started and had a few words to say before beginning. I think the president of the U.S. was also on stage with them.

Suddenly, an explosion blew the back of the stage into pieces. It knocked the people on stage to the ground; people were screaming in fear. Debris flew toward the audience over the heads of the performers. I saw people fleeing the park. Bono and the rest of the band walked out of the park towards where the back of the audience would've been. He walked past me shaking his head, looking angry, not scared.

Later, it was discovered that just behind the stage was the exact same rock formation covering the bomb. I remember feeling very frustrated and exclaimed, "Don't people learn?"

--------------------

So, those were the dreams. I just saw the news about a real threat at Penn Station, and they are blocking off certain areas. I also saw that there was a bomb scare at a Rolling Stones concert in Virginia last night. Now I'm wondering if I should be looking for interpretations to these dreams. I've got my thoughts, but I'd like to hear how crazy people think I am before I express my thoughts! So, post away as you put your Freudian hat on.