a must read! big news!

Short Version: I’m moving again. It’s the last time, I promise. See derrickoliver.com.

Awesome Version: I know it’s annoying. It’s like when you get that email from the guy who just got a new email address, and you have to stop what you’re doing, go into your contacts and change all his information (and by “all his information” I mean likely only what lies between “@” and “.com”). Or when you get a text from the number you’ve never seen before and it reads, “Hey, it’s [name]! This is my new number!” and you have to save it in your phone. And if you forget to change that guys email or phone number, you somehow find yourself less in touch with him, because you dropped the ball on changing his info when you had the chance.

Well that’s what I’m asking you to do (again). Only it’s not quite so severe. If you forget, you’ll always have this reminder sitting here waiting for you. Anyway, if you wouldn’t mind changing whatever it is that needs changing so that you and those around you know that henceforth, D.O.’s blog will no longer live at this address. It’ll be at www.derrickoliver.com (isn’t that nice?).

So go on over there and see what exciting things are in store for you. I’m super excited about this, so hopefully you will be to. Or at least pretend to be. So go! Now! Hastily, but carefully. See you over there. Bye.

the green bandit

If in the next few weeks you happen upon a particular Philadelphia bus stop on a cold, rainy and spot a human wearing three shades of green with red hair growing out of the only opening in his outfit, don’t be scared, it’s just me. You should stop and say hi… and offer him a ride.

one month down, three-ish to go

Yesterday I reached the one month mark of time spent in Philly. I had full intentions of posting this on the actual monthiversary, but I was having some issues with linksys 7, the internet gracious provided for me by my unassuming neighbors. It’s fairly unreliable, but I’m not paying for it, so I can’t complain. It just means that you get the one month update a day late. I apologize for hours of lost sleep that this delay may have caused.

One month in, I’m learning to appreciate certain things about living in the city. Things that I wouldn’t have noticed without spending 30 days in the same place. Things like public transportation (which will receive a full-length post in the near future), propaganda (pictured above), and the fact that everybody has a hoodie, which they utilize daily. Seriously. I feel like an outsider for not having one. That and the fact that I can’t avoid wearing outfits comprised exclusively of varying shades of green.

Conversely, I’m learning to live with the things that I doubt I’ll ever appreciate. Things like a painful lack of any green space (save my clothing), an abundance of trash (including every dirty thing you can imagine and more… I promise), the high cost of groceries, and the smell and hair that are so prevalent all over my house compliments of Auggie. (I had previously referred to him as Oggy, and have since learned the correct spelling.)

[Warning: This post kinda takes an unexpected and slightly unhappy turn here. If you aren't in the mood, skip the following paragraph.]

Another thing I’ve learned after spending a month here is that you should never sign up to do something for four months unless you really believe in it. For the most part, the work I’m having to do for my internship isn’t working towards an end that I really care about. I don’t mind doing menial work for a cause that I truly believe in, but all in all that’s not the case here. I constantly have to remind myself that it (“it” in general, not just internship “it” stuff) is not about me. Colossians 3 and 23 tells me that I have to work diligently for this thing, even though almost no part of me wants to. I may or may not elaborate on the stuff I’m eluding to here in the future, just depends on how things go. But you can consider this an opportunity to pray for ol’ D.O., as I sure could use it (who couldn’t?).

[Ok, back to normal]

This past week my internship found me working for hours on end to create a few things I’d like to share with you guys. They probably don’t seem like much, but think of it as your kid (that may be a stretch… how about your neighbor’s kid) creating something and showing it to you. This map took a solid day and a half to get functioning properly, and this message board took about the same amount of time. Neither of these things have officially launched yet, so go and be one of the first in the world to see ‘em.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t make mention of how faithful the Lord has been in providing me with community here in Philly. I attend a small group on Wednesday nights that is absolutely the most life-giving thing that takes place throughout my week. The people that gather are so honest and real as they corporately explore the depths of the Gospel. It is truly a refreshing time, and I’d like to praise the Provider for allowing me to be a part of such a group in a city where one month ago I knew not a soul. He is good.

Amen and amen.

a public transit mini-epic

It was bound to happen. There was truly no way of avoiding it. Me, a kid raised in the burbs who shows up to the 6th most populous city in America where he relies entirely on public transportation to get from point A to point B… something like this was inevitable. Especially considering how long it’s been since my last epic.

As I looked in the pantry that fateful morning, the only groceries remaining from my last trip to Thrift Way were a single packet of oatmeal and a sleeve of crackers, which motivated me to hop on the 15 (which I’ve ridden once before) and head back to the local grocery store. Yeah, the 15. That’s how we Philly people say it. Well what happened next proved beyond any shadow of a doubt that I have no business including myself in the phrase “we Philly people”.

Equipped with my empty messenger bag (which I would fill with groceries), I walked up Lawrence to Girard and over to 4th. Just as I turned the corner to begin approaching 4th I saw the 15 passing by. I know from experience that missing a bus (or in this case, trolley) results in standing around for about 20 minutes at the bus stop. Any other day this would be of no consequence, but on this particular day Philly had scattered showers and high winds. I was currently dry, and in an effort to stay that way, I darted off after the trolley which, if my timing was right, was going to be stopped at a red light right as I arrived at it’s doors.

At this point I’d be remiss if I didn’t give you a better mental picture of what was going on. I stand out like a sore thumb without running full speed on one of the busiest streets in my neighborhood. Because of the threat of rain that day, I was wearing my green rain jacket. Again, this would normally be insignificant, but in order for me to stay warm in this city, I opt each morning to wear my warm weather pants, which are forest green. To (literally) top it all off, I was wearing a darker forest green hat to keep my judgment-lacking head warm. So those lucky enough to see what transpired saw a three-shades-of-green-with-a-fire-beard being sprinting in his hiking boots to catch the 15. And while I’m giving you visuals, you must know that the trolley stays in the center two lanes of four total lanes on Girard. See the picture above to clarify the confusion undoubtedly caused by the previous sentence. Moving on…

Despite how I looked approaching the trolley at 4th & Girard, I successfully reached it just before the light was turning green. I ran in between cars to get to the lane where the trolley was before it started to accelerate when much to my dismay, the driver refused to open the doors.

Good.

He was saying something about how he couldn’t pick me up at 4th. Apparently 4th and Girard isn’t a stop for the eastbound 15… So off he drove, and I made my way safely back to the sidewalk, resigned to the fact that I’d have to wait for the next trolley to pick me up at 3rd.

I walked slowly eastward to catch my breath and as I looked down the street I saw something I’ve never seen before in America (in China, yes; here, no): The trolley was stopped at 3rd street and the driver was standing in the street yelling and waving at me to hurry up.

Real good.

See, though I’d accepted the fact that I missed my chance at this particular trolley car, the driver wasn’t willing to give up so easily. He kindly waited (and yell at me). So I was off to the races again, dodging cars and angry stares from the trolley’s occupants, and after what seemed like a unbelievably long single-block run, I arrived at the (open) door of the trolley. Success! I placed my token in the slot and found a seat towards the front without making eye contact with anybody.

I’ll leave you with a picture of where the incident went down, knowledge that I ran the long way around the hand rail in said picture, and the assurance that the picture at the top of this post wasn’t taken during the freshman incident you just read about.

3-in-1 post on another wedding weekend

This past weekend I had the immense joy, pleasure, and blessing of spending time with some of my beloved brothers as we journeyed to a sister’s wedding. Jon and I flew from opposite coasts to Dallas where we met Colby for a 5 hour drive South to La’s wedding in Kerrville, TX. The following events, thoughts, and pictures are products of this heavenly weekend.

——————–

Post 1 – “brothers”

Many people would dread a five hour drive through vast nothingness of Texas, but I can think of no place I’d rather have been than in Skylar for those hundreds of southbound miles. The drive was filled with fruitful, edifying conversation from start to finish. Imagine if you got to spend hours upon hours in a car with people you’d intentionally done life with for over half a decade (I know, some of you scoff at my mere 5 year reference, but give me a break, I’m young). People who simply being in their presence is literally encouraging to your spirit. People whose needs you’d gladly do anything in your power to meet. People who (and I thought about this before I said it; it’s not just for effect) you’d die for if it came down to it. I’m talking Jonathan and David stuff here. Much more than coming in town for a wedding (sorry La) this weekend was about a reunion of brothers. Of course, we probably wouldn’t have come in without the wedding, so it works out I guess. And without the wedding reception, we certainly wouldn’t have come across the gem pictured above: a mini-Stonehenge right in the hill country of Texas. We were so overjoyed, we jumped.

——————–

Post 2 – “being mentally where I am physically”

I’ve been meaning to post something about this for a while, and after some edifying conversations this past weekend I feel all thought-up and ready for it. Don’t set your expectations high though, it’s nothing new. Every person under the age of 25 (and arguably every person, period) is longing for what’s to come. I’m not talking about the Second Coming (though many are longing for that, myself included), I’m talking about what’s next on Earth. You know it, you’ve heard it before: Elementary>> Jr. High>> High School>> College>> Job>> Marriage>> Kids>> Retirement>> Grandkids. [Note: ">>" are to be read "can't wait until they are in/get/have"].

Not long after I showed up in Philly and decided that it wasn’t quite what I expected, I started thinking about and longing for whatever was next. About 5 seconds later the Holy Spirit was like, “no sir, you go ahead and be content where you are and stop thinking about tomorrow.” I know Jesus said not to worry about tomorrow, and I’m really not. I’m just not being content and satisfied where He’s got me now. I really think the believer who is able to really “be where they’re at” is the one who is going to make a real big difference in the world around them. There is something to be said about people who have truly learned what it means to be content in all circumstances. I want, through the grace of Jesus, to be one of those people. I want to really invest in the community I’m in, whether that be four years in College Station, a weekend visit to TX, a four month stint in Philly, or whatever. I really tend to romanticize things to come, when in reality, they’re just as mundane as the present. Life is lived in the mundane. Community happens in the mundane. I love the brothers from Post 1 because of 5 years of mundane. Jesus, let me live as you did, eyes fixed on the Father and through that radically impacting every single place you went.

——————–

Post 3 – “pictures from a wedding weekend”

Jon and Colby fought for the back seat. They’re so holy.

La, the beautiful bride, with Trevor, the tall husband. My sincerest blessings.

We stopped by Waco on our way back, where we found Jessie. We were so overjoyed, we jumped (read: “karate kicked your face!”)

A girl saw us taking these and thought we were in a band. A band who sets their camera to take pictures of themselves. Who wouldn’t?

This was a failed attempt at a three-high. We succeeded (on grass) later in the day though, with Jessie on bottom, me in the middle, and Ashley Goad on top. It was the one time all weekend the camera was in the car…

Philly people have no idea about that right there.

——————–

When I got back to the office this morning one of my co-workers asked me what I did all weekend. I told her I spent the entirety of my time being awesome. I wasn’t lying. So thank you Jesus for this weekend. Thank you Jon, Colby, and Jessie for letting me be a part of your lives. Thanks Antioch for the encouraging hour and half on Sunday morning. I needed all of it. And thank you for reading all the way down here.

When D.O. misses Ashton and Hayden and Anson

There are probably 10 things I like about public transportation (more on that later; also, I know it’d be a nicer read to say a hundred things, but let’s be realistic). Perhaps my favorite thing is seeing little kids get on with their parents. They’re usually pretty excited about getting on the bus, and they’re all bundled up like Ralph in the Christmas Story… I don’t know how anybody could see such a sight without smiling.

Today as I rode the bus I thought about how awesome it would be to have the Hendrick boys rolling with me. I think it’d be a first for them. Anson would probably make really smart observations about Philly accompanied by intelligent questions that I wouldn’t know the answers to. Hayden would be at the back of the bus where it’s a slightly elevated and he’d have at least three new friends by the time we got off at Westmoreland. Ashton would spend his time being precious and the old lady who starts talking (to nobody) immediately as she boards at Susquehanna would tell me stories about when her kid was his age…

Unfortunately, I have yet to muster up the courage to take pictures on the bus, so we’re left with a(nother) picture of me at the Liberty Bell, thinking about my friends from College Station.

Boys, I miss you guys a lot. I miss jumping on the trampoline and playing Guitar Hero and just hanging out. Ask your mom about that bell I’m standing in front of in the picture… she’ll know all about it. Love you!

[Note: if all this seems absolutely weird and troublesome, please refer to one of Ashton's recent works of art for clarity. I felt it only fair to create some art of my own in response.]

my trip, my friend, and my pictures

After a long week of not very hard work, I decided to treat myself to a day of extremely touristy activities here in Philadelphia. So Saturday morning I threw some essentials in my messenger bag, strung my camera (thank you parents!!!) around my neck and walked approximately 1.6 miles down to Independence Historical National Park, home of the Liberty Bell (pictured above… behind my head…). I looked more touristy than I ever have in my life.

There was a time when the thought of being perceived as a tourist or a clearly-not-from-around-here guy would have made me cringe. You know that feeling: you go on a trip with your youth group and you’re in a cool new city (or at Six Flags) and you’re walking around with a group of 50 loud people all wearing the same shirt you are… Yeah, you know it. However for this trip, I embraced that feeling.

If you don’t believe me, please go back and look at that picture again. The only other people getting their picture taken standing next to the bell are little kids. Kids who don’t even have to stand to the side of the bell because they are short enough that the bell can be seen over them. Meanwhile, I’m taking a picture of myself, with a big fancy camera, while the park ranger was asking me if I wanted her to take it for me. I politely declined as I basked in the awkwardness of the moment.

After joining the ranks of Nelson Mandela and the Dalai Lama by taking my picture with the Liberty Bell — which, if you haven’t seen it in person before, really is pretty lame — I went on to take a tour of Independence Hall where I had the pleasure of taking a tour led by Larry, the baddest park ranger the NPS has ever seen. Larry taught me all about the two rooms on the bottom floor of Independence Hall, and he taught the rest of the group about the upstairs room, but I was slow getting up there because I, being the Grade-A tourist I am, was still downstairs taking pictures.

There is much, much more to the story of my adventures in historic-land, but in the interest of not abusing your time or boring you, I’ll leave it at that. If you’d like to see more pictures from my touristy endeavors, I added them to my Philly set on my flickr site. Please feel free to check them out, and pretend like Larry’s reading the captions beneath the pictures. It’ll make your visit more enjoyable, I promise. And you won’t have to worry about seeing repeats of me and the Bell or of Larry, as these pictures are odfm exclusives. Only my faithful readers are treated with the luxury of viewing these portraits. Now you’ve got bragging rights.

mom, look what I made (vol. 2)

For this installment of “Mom, look what I made!” I’m going to show you some of the things that can happen when photography and design collide. Some of the pieces below (this is turning into an art gallery) are nothing more than pictures framed in a eye-catching way. Others are manipulations of photographs. I’m confident that you’ll be able to tell the difference between the two. I took all the pictures displayed*, and after playing with them in GIMP for a while, they came out looking like this. Click on any image to enlarge it, and I hope you enjoy.

*I did not take the pictures of Kent or Jon in the Luther Street masterpiece. I’d have told you that sooner, but I didn’t want to abuse my parenthetical asides… which I so often do.

for your enjoyment

As I mentioned in my first impressions post, there is lots of trash here in Philly. Lots of it gets picked up by the trash people, and lots of it hangs out on the streets. This picture should give you an idea of what I’m talking about. But my reasoning for this post wasn’t to talk about trash or pictures of trash, but rather to talk about (or refer you to) pictures of things that aren’t trash.

This weekend I went on a long walk around my neighborhood and took pictures of things I saw. I’ve posted some of them on my flickr site, and I welcome you to go take a look at the things I’m seeing and how I’m seeing them. It’s complete with murals, cool walls, doors, churches, and some other stuff. I only put about 20 up, and there will certainly be more added in the not too distant future.

I’d also like to take this opportunity to again thank you for all the phone calls, texts, facebook messages, and blog comments. You guys are great. Not sure if you’ve noticed, but the past two posts have brought in double digit comments. Thank you Andy for helping me get there with less than 10 commenters.

So while I sit here at work, scanning pictures and listening to Journey’s Greatest Hits, you sit there at work and look at my pictures, then come back here and tell me what you think, if you feel so inclined.

I wasn’t mad before, now I am.

Ok, I just wrote a real nice clever post about how I wasn’t depressed despite what my previous post led you to believe, and then I followed it all up with a few pictures of my current living situation. It was really good. I elaborated on all the pictures, told you what I liked about the steeple across the street… man. Well then, for the first time in this history of my blogging (both blogger and wordpress combined), everything was lost. Just gone. So now I really am a little depressed, but not because I hate Philadelphia, but rather because I’m mad that you missed out on the masterpiece I’m not willing to recreate. Man. Really. I’m mad. Here are your pictures. One’s the house. One’s the view to the right, one’s the view to the left. I’m done here.