The Nomad's Notebook

Great responsibility

2011-08-14T13:20:00.000-04:00

"Please don't fart. If you fart, it's bad, but then I have to return fire, and that opens up hell.

It's not fair! I can't do the same thing! You're like America, and I'm like... I dunno, some pissy country with only one bomb. So if you bomb me, I'll have to be like, 'Okay, I guess I have to return fire now,' but if you bomb me then everything will explode!

Do you see how that's not fair?"

Free Write- taking it back

2011-05-02T12:24:00.000-04:00

A true mark of shame for me is that amid the chaos of this past semester, I disposed of a habit I developed as an everyday (or night, rather) occurence at The Brook. Freewriting-- which became my primary method of processing and debriefing in a very mentally volatile environment-- circled up and vanished like the dust of a windstorm. A vital leak in my mind for jumbled, confused thoughts was plugged. I didn't notice.

I'm taking it back.

I am the only person within a 50' radius right now who can pee standing up. Do you think that might have an effect on how I act? It's strange to think about the baby making noises that isn't crying it's something I've had to get used to like being the only person on the unit who grows hair on their face. And the baby noises are making me miss my nephew who I've never met and that makes me regret that there are people who desperately want to be involved in the kid's life, and he'll never meet them. He'll know them from Christmas cards and Thanksgiving "oh that's who brought the awesome beans" but he'll never know me-- and I'm arrogant enough to believe I'm blameless enough to be a role model-- but I just want some information. Feedback that I did all right. Can I live without it? This kid makes me want to pack up and leave sometimes-- they all have. And I convince myself that it's worth it to have started a new life in a new place away from them but I admit it hurts a lot somethings to hear about my brother having a beer without me or a baby wondering aloud where his uncle is

Elegy for My Daughter (3rd draft)

2011-03-11T21:29:00.000-05:00

** This is absolutely not yet a finished product. I hope that anyone who reads this will be willing to provide insight/suggestions. Any feedback-- constructive or no, rational or no-- will be accepted and appreciated. **

And Jephthah made a vow to the LORD: “If you give the Ammonites into my hands, whatever comes out of the door of my house to meet me when I return in triumph from the Ammonites will be the LORD’s, and I will sacrifice it as a burnt offering.”
- Judges 11:30-31

Stone of my stones underneath my feet,
beneath the victors of the sounding
gravel-run drums for thousands
coming home. Altar-brown eyes
greet me, from down low, shame.
Warp and shackle me, thoughtless march,
I forgot the Philistine word for "daughter"
immediately, because
I thought it was too close to our word for "charcoal"--
worry mother for the rough burn
crack, I peal and plea-- for your forgiveness.

Like a virgin song at a long ago river,
singing, inhaled and let me watch,
your dark hair and light music on my wrinkly ears
I remember--
now play the tambourine
again. again. play it please
bring on, the flowing notes, the altar-brown eyes.
My Gd-winning hand on your shoulder
is too violent, too crushing harmony;
your hair still singing, exhaled.

"What did you see," my grandson
calls me from down low, my hair underneath
my feet, blood of my blood on the same edge.
"What did it teach you," he calls again
and I reply with laughter-- am I mad
for that Lord; shock, blaze, for God's sake.
A bushel of grain from that dream onward, but
just a wisp of your tambourine on the wind.
Salt of my salt underneath my feet,
bar me from returning again.

On "The Strength of Fields" by James Dickey

2011-02-23T03:14:00.000-05:00

James Dickey, when we first met (as in, when I first discovered his work), seemed to have it in for me. A legend of a half-sheep stillborn in a museum preservation jar-- yeah, that was cool. Then, the book, which became a movie, which became an instantly referential banjo tune of the most unmentionable canoe trip ever. Which I've never read, by the way, and probably won't, either.

Not best friends, or similar thinkers, even. He writes in a style that blows the tops off my atria, and makes my cerebrum sick, and I don't like it.

But he writes so well. He is that player on the other team that I hate just because he doesn't play for my team. He is that general I despise when he beats me fair and square. He is that driver who silently reminds me of the fact that I never had the right of way. And then he says this to me,

"Moth-force a small town always has,

Given the night.

What field-forms can be,

Outlying the small civic light-decisions over

A man walking near home?

Men are not where he is

Exactly now, but they are around him around him like the strength

Of fields. The solar system floats on

Above him in town-moths.

Tell me, train-sound,

With all your long-lost grief,

what I can give.

Dear Lord of all the fields

what am I going to do?

Street-lights, blue-force and frail

As the homes of men, tell me how to do it how

To withdraw how to penetrate and find the source

Of the power you always had

light as a moth, and rising

With the level and moonlit expansion

Of the fields around, and the sleep of hoping men.

You? I? What difference is there? We can all be saved

By a secret blooming. Now as I walk

The night and you walk with me we know simplicity

Is close to the source that sleeping men

Search for in their home-deep beds.

We know that the sun is away we know that the sun can be conquered

By moths, in blue home-town air.

The stars splinter, pointed and wild. The dead lie under

The pastures. They look on and help. Tell me, freight-train,

When there is no one else

To hear. Tell me in a voice the sea

Would have, if it had not a better one: as it lifts,

Hundreds of miles away, its fumbling, deep-structured roar

Like the profound, unstoppable craving

Of nations for their wish.

Hunger, time and the moon:

The moon lying on the brain

as on the excited sea as on

The strength of fields. Lord, let me shake

With purpose. Wild hope can always spring

From tended strength. Everything is in that.

That and nothing but kindness. More kindness, dear Lord

Of the renewing green. That is where it all has to start:

With the simplest things. More kindness will do nothing less

Than save every sleeping one

And night-walking one

Of us.

My life belongs to the world. I will do what I can."

And though my ribs curl with truth, I thrash around in my loud cocoon, and tell him he'll never be right.

What good will that do, my feet say, to walk where there isn't a sidewalk?

I step outside, and I curse under my breath when he shows me how obvious it is.

(p.s.-- That poem is by an American legend named James Dickey. it's called "The Strength of Fields", and it is just a bit of his amazing work. Just so we're clear, Estate of James Dickey, that I didn't write that.)

Status quo in the abdominal cavity

2011-01-27T08:34:00.000-05:00

This was a joy. Total, electrifying, relentless joy. Darrin worked all the time, of course, but never like this, not in a long time. Too long, he though, as he grinned broadly. With every push, lightness, freedom. With ever pull, exhilarating influxes of raw, pore-filling energy. Of course, none of the others would have disagreed. Those in the legs hadn't been pushed this hard in decades; the massive strength of effort from their withering bodies was inspiring. Every once in a while, one of them would start complaining to his coach. But she would continue to prod him onward. His coach told him that he was becoming greater, to the benefit of everyone else around.
Darrin looked at his coach and smiled. He long, slight body weaved across his vision. Abrupt pulses of light over her pastel yellow clasps gave her a lovely tint of light blue. He felt himself keeping time with the flashes of her figure: flash, pull, flash, push...
His concentration was interrupted. The sound of a persistent whine began to grow in his ears. "Come on, please! I needed that! I'm even running out!" moaned Dom. Takers were walking off with a few generously sloshing jugs of essence, water as Old Boris called it, and dumping them into the River. Darrin noticed that the river was teeming with red Carriers, inflated and beaming bright with life gas.
It was enough of a chuckle to watch Dom's face when they made off with a small pile of gold earlier: payment to get the legs moving. His greasy fingers greedily squeezed the last gold piece as the Taker plucked it and tossed it into the River. Dom looked comically desperate to retrieve it, as if he had forgotten the astonishing, rolling hoard of gold he had accumulated over the years. (In all fairness, Darrin thought, most Movers had gathered more that their needed share of gold; but Dom's landmark of a gold mound was undoubtedly the largest.) Unlike before, however, Dom wore a face of pain, not resentment. His eyes watered as he watched what used to be his essence float away in the River. He grabbed a red cordon, sobbing, and pulled it. He was quitting.
Darrin scoffed as the whole Mover effort halted. He filled his eyes with black judgment and mustered the most contemptuous glare he could stand to make, then pointed his face at weeping, oily ball of sloth that was Dom. Tears were streaking down over his bulging chin and darkening his red dress shirt. His huge gut bobbled as he sniffed, wiping his eyes to meet Darrin's hateful look. "Oh, stop. Fine, I don't care. Stare. Laugh. No one works as hard as Darrin, who only stops to rub his gung-ho bullshit in my face," Dom seethed. He pointed downriver, where Big Glenn was making sure all the Movers had their traps out to catch clay in the stream. "You never look at them like that," added Dom, indignant.
"I don't think they complain half as much as you, Dom. Old Boris won't be happy when he finds out you pulled the cord for his 'jog' idea."
"Well, guess what! He already knows. And I submit, with the utmost golden confidence, that he'll never try it again."

Impart

2011-01-20T03:10:00.000-05:00

She peeked over her shoulder, shuddered, and kept walking as fast as she could.

A slimy, pale hand grabbed her wrist, just tight enough to feel her vapid pulse.

Crunched his nose with her remaining clog, slammed apart the sloppy hand with a reluctant, thundering door.

She said yes to the salesman's first offer so quickly that he appeared puzzled, perhaps thinking she was capable of car theft.

The thought of driving even another five minutes, staring down at where those ruddy, deathly fingers reached up for her-- yearning, clawing, sweating-- she didn't tell him she would have given it away.

Control

2010-12-11T16:47:00.000-05:00

"I'm not going to pretend that this is the first time a gun has been pointed at your head, Carlton, so I won't draw this out," Riggs sneered. His hand was shaking too much to hide, but not enough to lose its aim on Wembley's forehead. The air in the warehouse behind the auditorium was heavy with the sound of anxious breathing. More than once, Riggs struggled to swallow and gather in a breath. He clutched the funny looking jackknife-type weapon in his left hand, threatening to drop for slippery, sweating palm. He eyed it cautiously, then began again, his voice lower, "I'm taking this out of here, and we're not going to kill this one."

Wembley started, "Riggs--"

"RIGGS NOTHING! I'M LEAVING WITH THIS!" bellowed Riggs. His chest heaved, but his speech seemed very controlled. He turned his gaze to Park, who was leaning luxuriously on a stack of wooden pallets. The smoke of a new cigarette billowed up toward the ceiling. Riggs was furious. "So, you think this is amusing, do you Park? That I'm threatening to shoot your mentor, my mentor? The man who played himself as our father for ten years?

"No, that cool demeanor can't be disrupted. The façade of control won't be broken by anything, even now. You're disgusting, Park. It's all for the show, isn't it? Who cares if you win if you don't look good, isn't that right, Park? ISN'T THAT RIGHT, PARK? I SWEAR TO GOD, IF YOU DON'T PUT THAT CIGARETTE OUT, I'LL SHOOT HIM RIGHT NOW!"

Riggs shook violently, his finger hooked around the trigger. Park looked up at him with a curled grin, raised his hands to plead innocent, and spit the lit cigarette out of his mouth. As Park pressed his boot to extinguish it on the floor, Riggs turned his mean, wary eyes back to Wembley. He was doing a much better job of looking frightened-- though Wembley's body was calm and steady, his eyes were wide. He stared at the barrel of the suppressed handgun, then at Riggs' eyes. He began again, "Riggs, look around you. You know the security in this building. You know your chances of making it back out of here with that weapon in your hand. Look at the decision that you are making, Riggs. This is not worth it."

"YOU'RE WRONG!" screeched Riggs. "I'm not staying here for you to manipulate me more! I'm not doing what you say! You're gonna get caught, I'm gonna leave, and that's it! I'm through, old man!" He backed toward the door, clutching the H-50 under his arm, keeping the gun pointed at Wembley. He shook as he tried to manage the awkwardly-shaped weapon under his jacket. Then, in one motion, he slipped the gun into a shoulder holster, and vanished the warehouse door. Riggs was gone.

Park lit another cigarette. Wembley turned to him and frowned. "You won't be bothered going to get him, then?"

"You told me that gun's not loaded with anything deadly. So, no, I'm not gettin' 'im." Park smiled as he took a drag. "He could've chosen one of six different routes out of the building. When they catch 'im, we know where he'll be."

Wembley put together his tools loudly. He clamped up his black bag loosely and with an angry-sounding clattering of metal. "Mr. Park, the penchant you have for assuming you have control over a given situation rivals that of Mr. Riggs, which is obviously troubling."

Park took notice of this as an insult. He wrinkled his face in offense, cigarette hanging from his partly open mouth. Wembley gathered his bag over his shoulder and started for the door. Park grudgingly put out his cigarette and followed him. Wembley put his ear up to the door, listened, then stopped Park with a raised hand. He whispered, still frowning, "You would do well not to flaunt your ability to understand the forces at play in front of the others so loosely. It is a gift that is best kept silent."

Park smirked and reached for another cigarette. Wembley slapped his hand away. "We are leaving!"

Psychosis

2010-11-07T07:31:00.003-05:00

a room that smells
like a hospital. Like a crack in the clock.
Wish-you-were-

sterile.

Unmistakable, in the humming dark corners.
a black brain claw with rotting thoughts
in its grip. Sharp coal-charred grip
a different Hand-- each mind finds its own
version of obvious folly
always vengeful, twisting fingers in the slimy, gray peel:
occipital temporal always grasping never giving

it remains-

ever true to the sleeper and false
to us. I close the door.

The crazy-knuckles crunch
(as real as electric locks)
because yesterday, they crunched. I felt
the popped frail thoughts
and shattered rigid dreams, fading fragments litter my pillow.
Waking spells strangled relentless clenching
crush.

Please.

The slow tight roar, squeezing visions, until
the world is a flying powdery dust.
Let me at least rebuild the hallway!

Where is it?

Mop the floor, try again tomorrow.

Love your enemies

2010-10-01T01:23:00.003-04:00

"Imagine your whole life being about the worst thing you ever did." - Clarence (played by LL Cool J on House)

I may not
You don't
They didn't
We never deserve
it but by God do we ever need this sobbing, cleansing, releasing touch of forgiveness

Ears to hear

2010-09-27T01:46:00.002-04:00

I looked up from the pavement, and noticed three people in a line, walking down the sidewalk toward me. The little girl on the far left couldn't have been more than four years old; the old man on the right couldn't find a shirt before they left the house. The tall man in the middle was working on a 40 of Bud Light. Judging by the effort it took to swing it up, he was on the final lap. Judging by the heat of the sun, it was about 1:30.

There was a beat-up white building on my left. According to the little girl, this old "barely-used" furniture store was still in business. She ran ahead of the group and stuck her pig-tailed head just inside the door. "Daddy, can we go in here?" she asked, swirling back around in her lightly-soiled, white sun dress.

"No. Not today, hun." the man in the middle replied.

"Okay, daddy." She walked back up the sidewalk and gave Daddy's leg a big hug. Shirtless cracked a smile as I walked past the gang.

The scene carved out a pit in my chest. If it was a vacuum, it would explain the crunchy, unsatisfied feeling in my ribs while they caved inward. My eyes glazed; my lungs couldn't fill. I bit my lip and blew melancholy breath out from my nose. If I could have said so, I would have sworn that after two more beats, my heart would have been on the pavement in front of me in my pathetic weakness. The little girl whitewashed my mind and I forgot where I was and where I was going.

I don't remember what I was thinking about just before all that, but I do remember wiping the tear off my cheek.

Creative license

2010-08-28T15:39:00.002-04:00

Sam held her hand out the window and twirled her hand in the blowing wind. It was tough to think of a response that wasn't cliche. She stirred a pile of adjectives over and over through her head, searching for different things she could say that no one else had said. It would be difficult to be honest and original at this point-- especially when she'd never had this conversation with anyone before. The irony was unbearable, and it was against her. For fear of allowing the silence to pan into awkwardness, she gave up and let it fly.

"It all sounds the same. Seriously, I can't tell one song from another. I don't know if they all eat lunch together or grew up together or were in the same band... or whatever. I can't tell them apart."

Ugh. Here it comes.

"Well, if you listened to it more often, there are nuances. I guess I just listen to it more, and I can pick out different things about them that make them good or bad," Taylor replied, while changing lanes.

This was not a satisfactory answer. No way was it only good when you listened more often, but Taylor seemed convinced. That works for weird food you've never had before, the kind that is vile on the first bite but everyone else still seems to live on it-- but it doesn't work for worship music. At least it shouldn't. Connecting with God can't be an acquired taste, can it? There was one other problem. Sam decided to give the second barrel a go.

"At least they could use different words. I feel like our songs have had the same words for two thousand years. Except for some hymns by people who were-- I dunno, creative-- every single lyric is post-consumer content." The addition of a sideways method of saying recycled on the end of her argument gave her a smile. She felt a warm hum in her chest that told her she was on a roll. "Frankly, it's annoying. I know they call God 'holy, holy, holy' in the Bible, but really, don't you think there's another word for 'holy'?"

Taylor's face shifted into a surrendering half-smile. "There's really no other word for what holy means. That's just the language of worship. We work with what we're given. It was good enough for David."

"David didn't speak English, Taylor."

"My point's still valid."

"He spoke Hebrew."

"Yeah. I get it. I misspoke. But my point really is valid. The best worship artists used this word, and we should, too."

"True."

Wait, did he just defeat me? Nuh uh!

"What does 'holy' actually mean, anyway?"

"Well, it means literally 'set apart.' When something has a special purpose for God's will, it has to be held sacred. It can't be polluted by other stuff. It's just different from ordinary. And when something is 'holy, holy, holy'-- in the ancient culture, that meant that it was at the highest state of holiness. Nothing was holier than that. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah."

Sam examined some typical white, rural graffiti on the face of the overpass. Something about Metallica, as well as prom three years ago. She grinned.

"I knew there was another way to say it."

Taylor smiled and chuckled to himself.

Ignorance

2010-08-16T16:07:00.002-04:00

“… now at this time, I’d like to have all the children up front for the children’s message.”

The herd of children rumbled down from their elevated seats in the pews and slowly assembled on the altar steps. On some faces was the look of perfect satisfaction, the look of knowing the answers to a test before the test is given. A bright look in the eye toward Mama and Papa was flashed, and a feigned smile waxed and waned. But most of the children looked convincingly bored, and probably put up quite a fight to coming to church in the first place.

“Let me start by asking you all a question. Is the sun out today? Did you see the sun outside this morning when you came in?”

Suddenly, they were a united chorus. “Yeeeeeaaaaah.”

“The sun does a lot of things, doesn’t it?”

Again, their hive mind agreed with the pastor’s sound logic. “Yeeeeeaaaaah.”

“What does the sun do? Someone tell me something the sun doeeees.”

It was, indeed, a puzzling question. A blonde-haired boy stared at the ceiling, looking as if the pastor had asked him to calculate a derivative. Two little girls, wearing matching print sun dresses, whispered prospective responses to each other, carefully concealing their tentative words from the pastor. These kids had heard these deceptively simple inquiries before. If the pastor simply said what he meant, they wouldn’t be deceptive; and it was this deceit that made it so difficult to answer. It takes a keen mind and fortunate train of thought to be the hero, the one who accurately determines the proper function of the sun, or the moon, or the reason for rain, or the prettiest flower, or the best reason to do what Mama and Papa say—and therefore push the “children’s message” on. The bravest and most confident children usually tried their luck first.

“It shines?” It sounded like a question, but the freckled second-grader with bright orange pigtails was sure that the sun did, in fact, shine.

“Yes, the sun does give us light,” the pastor corrected. “What else does the sun do?”

Strike one. The ultimate insult was to waste so many guesses that the pastor became infuriated with their ignorance and revealed the answer himself. The clock was ticking.

“It’s yellow?” Again, not a question—but his response was corrected by a rough elbow from the young boy’s neighbor. This was obviously not the correct answer, nor was it even something the sun did. Foolish.

“Yes, it can be yellow sometimes. Or red, too. Does the sun ever turn red?”

“Yeeeeeaaaaah.” The pastor’s question was his way of consoling the boy for his terrible postulation that being yellow was a task the sun performed. The easier question was to build their confidence, but it was already too late.

“Does the sun make a circle around the earth? An orbit? Does the sun orbit the earth?”

“Yeeeeeaaaaah.”

The Parable of the Clinician and the Epidemiologist

2010-06-15T13:29:00.004-04:00

As read from Inside the Outbreaks by Mark Pendergrast:

The Brown River usually flows lazily through the middle of town. But today it is a torrent carrying human bodies. Some, still alive, are gasping for air and thrashing the water.

Approaching the river to enjoy lunch on its banks, two doctors, horrified by what they see, begin to haul people out of the water. There are no signs of violence, but the victims' eyes are glazed, their weak pulses racing.

The doctors cannot keep up with the flow of bodies. They save a few and watch helplessly as the others drift beyond them.

Suddenly, one of the doctors lowers and old man to the ground and starts to run. "What are you doing?" yells the other doctor. "For God's sake, help me save these people!"

Without stopping, she yells back over her shoulder, "I'm going upstream to find out why they're falling in."

That sounds like a good job.

Whatever we are, nothing more

2010-05-02T12:23:00.002-04:00

Certainly, you've heard this statement before. The words have shifted or morphed into their cousins at times, but this family of phrases have remained the same. In fact, I would bargain that this idea has dug its head into your mind and won't leave without serious and well-thought persuasion. Time will tell.

"If you love someone, you'll love them for who they are."

"Of course." That's what you said, isn't it? I said it, too. Because we all believe it (and by we all, I mean everyone in America). What does this really mean? Read it again.

Go ahead. Read it again.

Since this idea is totally spliced into our consciousness, I can probably assume that you have expectations what this looks like. That's not uncommon. For what it's worth, quite a few people seem to know what love is before they experience it. Don't make me use ancient Greek words to explain what I'm talking about, nit-picker, because you know exactly what I'm talking about. If we know what love is right now, and it happens later, then all we have is an expectation of what love should be. That's dangerous.

Although we claim to know what fire feels like from watching, learning, and observing-- the sensation of actually burning is quite inexplicable.

Why is it dangerous? Because our expectations come in images, and not reality. Images are easy to deal with. They act and react the way we really want them to-- sort of the way I imagined the beautiful snow before I first experienced it with my freezing, remorseful hands. How can we treat reality with any kind of fairness if we have such expectations? Was it the snow's fault for assaulting my hand when I never imagined it would?

Jesus tells us to love our neighbor as ourselves. Most of the time, I hear this rant on how we don't love ourselves enough to love others as much. I encourage you to engage this thought and not blindly accept it-- if we still love ourselves, despite having a front-row seat to our disappointments and shortcomings, is that the same treatment we give others? Or is it totally different?

Read the statement again. Look at the agency here. It's a cry from the beloved to the lover. "I am only whatever I am! Nothing more!"

Is loving someone for who they are seeing their shortcomings in light of my expectations and making the choice to love them anyway?

Is loving someone for who they are being forgetful of our past expectations for who I believe they should be?

What Isaiah 22 has meant to me

2010-03-24T00:58:00.002-04:00

¹⁰ You counted the buildings in Jerusalem
and tore down houses to strengthen the wall.

¹¹ You built a reservoir between the two walls
for the water of the Old Pool,
but you did not look to the One who made it,
or have regard for the One who planned it long ago.

¹² The Lord, the LORD Almighty,
called you on that day
to weep and to wail,
to tear out your hair and put on sackcloth.

¹³ But see, there is joy and revelry,
slaughtering of cattle and killing of sheep,
eating of meat and drinking of wine!
"Let us eat and drink," you say,
"for tomorrow we die!"

There is a lot of stuff going on in this passage.

- Israel is depicted as under attack. Worse than under attack-- they are under siege. The chariots and horsemen described earlier in the chapter are not Israelites, because Israelites typically did not train horses for combat or have the necessary means to field a regiment of chariots. So, to have a massive army in the valleys of the country may at other times be a mark of splendor or strength... but since they have those horses, it's a sign of defeat. Think Sennacherib (except that story ends a lot better for Israel than this one).

- The actions of Israel then mean more than ever. In this situation, they need to have the ability to make correct choices. Emergency preparations are made, and what is left of Jerusalem is being apportioned out to withstand the siege. The wall is reinforced. Water is gathered. At the surface, it looks like the Israelites are digging in and not going down without a decent fight.

- But the Israelites have instead lost heart. They have a party. Defeat is imminent, so they have as much fun as they can before the invaders snuff them out for good. All of those preparations to hold out during the siege were just rituals... what anyone should do when under this kind of attack. The building of this facade gets a huge amount of narrative time, though, while the exposition of it is only a few verses. How come?

- The end of the chapter is an ironic end of a solid leader. He has made all the right choices and planned all the right moves. But in the final moments, I make the connection that Eliakim chooses not to seek after God, even in the advent of total defeat, and especially when his choices matter most. And though the history books of the nation of Israel speak of victory after victory won by God himself, it just doesn't seem prudent to Eliakim to look to what is intangible or possibly useless against the onslaught. It seems impossible to beat these odds, so he figures his chances of living it up one last time are way better. You can see how he places his wager.

I think this chapter speaks volumes on hollow leadership. And I believe that actions define my values for everyone who doesn't know what I'm thinking. Yes, I read a lot of books about leadership. I've been to quite a few conferences and meetings on how to develop my relational abilities and communication skills and conflict management and visionary thinking. I have been in a position of effective leadership for three years. I am well on my way to knowing all the right moves--

like perseverance. Endurance. Consistency. Integrity. Dialogue. Perspective. Selflessness. Proaction.

But do I look first to God? Or am I building up a wall to be torn down tomorrow?

No Complaining

2010-03-09T11:14:00.003-05:00

That's actually what this post is all about. I've decided that it isn't very healthy to keep negativity inside and building. As a matter of fact, a ton of stuff worth complaining about has piled up over the course of Lent so far. It's starting to make me physically sick. Here is where I'm going to try to spill it and see if it makes a difference. At least here, no one will be forced to listen to it. Here goes, starting most recent:

- Sometimes I wish that I could just march up to important people in charge, grab them, and just shake the daylights out of them. I really don't think that powerful people always realize what kind of influence they have over the lives of others. What's worse is that they usually utilize their power to obscure what they're doing from other people. How many people my age in America know about the UN Security Council? About how there are five permanent, powerful members who can veto any kind of intervention at the drop of a hat? Or how the last health care bill submitted to Congress by the Democrats was almost 2,000 pages long-- and it didn't even provide a way to reduce any costs? It is totally unfair that our generation has not only been charged with taking care of this obscene mess that the one before us created, but that we have to deal with the fact that we don't know anything about it! Partly because:

- People on the news are paid to obscure what happens in the world. Cline said it best on Wednesday when he said, "Using language is not a neutral act." It makes sense that news stations should be on 24/7, because people will watch this garbage over and over! When there's nothing happening, they pay random "experts" to sit at a table, whether real or virtual, and shout at each other. It's like an ideological coliseum-- and even though we pick our favorite mental gladiators, all we really came to see is blood. Part of that stems from:

- We live so inconsequentially. Our lives have purpose, but absolutely no meaning. We don't take care of ourselves. We say we need more sleep and end up getting even less. We say we really need to exercise, laughingly, as we open a bag of Doritos. Doritos aren't inherently bad, you know. And I'm not nominalizing my culture as "we" so that I'm exempt. I do it, too. The power is in place for us to buy what they make and work our nails off to get it and eat what we "deserve" and never question their necessity. What would heaven even look like for us?

- Would it just be relationships? Or the relationship? Would it be the myth of a soulmate, the one true love we are destined for since before we were born? The perfect match to our terribly flawed, incomplete, undeserving, but still somehow deserving personalities? Please. Your favorite Nicholas Sparks character is just that: a character. He's not going to materialize from the pages of your book and ask you to spend the rest of your life with him because "that's the way it should work." And Jennifer Aniston/Megan Fox/whoever-your-favorite-stunning-actress-is is not going to walk off the screen to you-- nor would you ever have a chance with her if she did. These people don't exist! It's insulting to everyone else that you believe they do exist! Why should I want to be like that? I don't want to be that guy! Guys who want to be those guys and girls who want to be those girls end up making themselves crazy/sick over it, which is really, really unfair. Stop making a list of what you want in a mate. Stop taking cues of what's attractive from the dominant culture. Just trust God and live your life and don't worry about what's next. Loneliness sucks, but a crappy relationship is worse-- trust me. I'm glad I can't complain anymore.

This didn't help me much, but it has shown me that I've changed what I complain about.

Electric

2010-03-04T18:27:00.003-05:00

An assignment was postponed until next week.
A conversation with the smartest person I've ever heard speak.
A presentation on overcoming failure as a leader.
A particularly successful piano lesson.
A letter of acceptance from the University of Louisville.

They say God gives us joy in any circumstance, but all this surrounding goodness is making me want to burst.

Hallelujah, hallelujah, he's alive in me today =)

Marriage, 1 Cor 7, and SAU

2010-02-01T22:36:00.002-05:00

"But those who marry will face many troubles in this life, and I want to spare you this." - the Apostle Paul, in his first letter to the Corinthians

I am not married, nor do I plan to be any time soon. Therefore, I do not consider myself an expert on the Christian-style sacrament of marriage. I have a rough idea of how it works (and how it doesn't). I do, however, have a lot of experience with weddings as of late. Oh, reader, I warn you:
I'm 'bout to get all verbally offensive if you're not careful.

My brothers will back me up when I say this: the main point is the marriage, not the wedding. And though you may confess with your lips, you actions some-the-times betray those words, fellow Arborites!

Paul talked about marriage. To some of us at SAU, chapter seven of 1 Corinthians is the scariest chapter in the whole Bible, because Paul tries to convince us that it is actually possible that staying single could be better than being married!

The nerve.

Take it easy, we'll go through this from a literary standpoint. By chapter seven, Paul is wrapping one of the harshest tirades that I've read in any of his writings. Is anyone who claims to follow Christ engaging in sexual immorality (whatever he means by this is hidden from me in the Greek, which I cannot read)? If so, kick him out! Don't even have dinner with this turd (1 Cor 5:11). Don't sue your fellow Christians, because it opens us up to be wicked to each other. We might as well just give up trying (1 Cor 6:7). Then, he comes back to sexual immorality. Just because you can, doesn't mean you should. Sexual sin is one of the worst kinds of sin, because we usually underestimate the consequences (1 Cor 6:16-17)!

Paul starts the next paragraph with this very interesting qualifier: "Now for the matters you wrote about:". I would really like to know what the Corinthian church body asked Paul in that letter. Paul is, of course, not married. I can only guess that it had something to do with his marital status, because he begins a huge concession on the social aspect of marriage in the church.

First of all- and this is a personal rant- the fact that this discussion takes place is a demonstration that the institution of marriage exists beyond the borders of the Christian church. Believe it or not, the Church does not have a monopoly on marriage. That's all I will say about that.

Now that we have a literary basis of context, let's look at the first bit (nine verses) of this chapter- which is about as deep as most people get before they get scared off/ justify marriage with threat of sexual sin (I wish I knew the Greek behind the phrase "burn with passion"). Paul present marriage as a sort of last-ditch form of accountability. Of course, that is not all it is, as he goes on to explain. But in the case of the church of Corinth, it would be helpful to have both marriage and a healthy understanding of the Christian marriage. Our bodies are not just our own anymore. This combats sinning against the body (1 Cor 6:18), because we no longer have total control of our body anymore. In this light, getting married is more of a confession of weakness to the world, rather than a strong statement of love or a covenant of faith.

Paul says that it is better for a man or a virgin/unmarried woman (interesting that he includes both genders in this discussion, plus the possibility of an unmarried woman who is not a virgin) to be unmarried. Deciding to be unmarried is not a sin, neither is deciding to be married. Paul says that he tells everyone in the church that they have been given a God-sanctioned place in this world (7:17). Changing that station isn't necessary, because the things of this world like baptismal water and circumcisions don't mean anything past the grave (7:31). It is much more important to keep God's commands. This is a cornerstone of both Jesus' and Paul's teachings- love God and keep his commands, and the rest will follow. Duh.

It looks like I had a lot more to say that I thought. It isn't right to automatically think "marriage" in relationships, and it isn't fair to the other person. Being unmarried can be and usually is a gift from God (7:7). I say again, it is not imperative for you to marry! So, I would encourage anyone reading this to read the seventh chapter of 1 Corinthians for themselves.

If you don't, Jesus will come back before your wedding night. Ha.

Dangerous Free Write

2010-01-25T02:23:00.002-05:00

I was talking to Carrie in the car on the way back today from her house about how terrified she is of creative writing class this Spring. I asked her why and she told me it's because she doesn't "write creatively." I told her that it's easy, all you have to do is freewrite every day for a week, practically, and you'll have enough good ideas to last the whole dang semester. and she told me that she just can't freewrite, and I know that this all just seemed like a free write to you, but that's the point. It's a set-up.

I'm gonna free write here for ten minutes, to show that I've still got it. And I promise to publish whatever goes down here. Ready? Go.

I've got this Muse song stuck in my head from a dream I had last night. I know, the whole day goes by and it's still stuck in my head. The worst part is that I don't even own the new CD, so in order to listen to it, I have to go to YouTube. YouTube hasn't been working out very well for me lately, and I don't know if it's my computer or just the internet it's attached to. Which is sort of a funnything if you think about it, beacause my computer is not actually physically attached to youtube. it's just talking with it, pretty much, and then telling me with pictures what they're talking about. in that sort of way it almost feels like I'm on the outside of this internet. I feel like it's mine a lot-- you know, facebook, myspace, blogger, all of those things feel like me. I feel like the internet is mine. but it's not. no way in heck is it mine, you know? it's just a bunch of computers talking to each other, and I'm just listening in. What if my computer just up and decided not to talk to me anymore? What if it finds out how ridiculous I am, or just decided that it didn't like me? Where would I be then? I mean, the internet would have to be my computer's homie by then, and if my computer breaks up with me, then the internet is sure as heck not gonna talk to me anymore. After all, my computer was really the only reason it ever hung out with me in the first place, and hanging out without my computer would be really awkward. I can't say that I would blame the internet for that. That's just common courtesy. But it wouldn't feel right to call it my computer anymore. or the Internet. I feel like they would have to have names. And if I'm going to personify my computer, I don't feel right in calling it mine. It's not like it's my slave or anything-- in fact, most of the time, it just does what it wants anyway. Regardless of whatever I want to do. So, it is in fact, not a slave. It can obviously refuse me at anytime. Which makes me think about the way I treat... computer. Weird typing it like that. It doesn't feel like a relationship right now, that is for sure. I mean, I just push buttons, it flashes letters, and at the end of it all, I feel accomplished and it feels greasy. That's not exactly fair, right? But I fon't know how else to describe it. I mean, it talks to things. Surely it is a person. It makes decisions! There's no way it couldn't be its own entity. Whatever we do together, then, should be for the better of us both. Not just me. That's not fair. And I don't want the internet to get mad at me, either. It's much bigger than I am, and I think it's the type that wouldn't mind letting me have it for disrespecting computer.

That wasn't nearly as tangential as I thought it would be. In conclusion, however, I'm a psycho.

Elucidate

2010-01-10T23:31:00.002-05:00

Microsoft Word knows elucidate is an English word, but it can't tell me what it means. Therefore, it may not use elucidate in Scrabble or Boggle. (p.s. if you can score elucidate in Boggle, I will give you money.)

p.s.s. - elucidate- to make lucid or clear; throw light upon; explain: an explanation that elucidated his recent strange behavior

I was about to complain about classes on my IM. The fact that classes are probably going to be one of the best times of my life stayed my hand. I should be more grateful.

from "The Voyage of the Teleos"

2009-11-22T17:01:00.004-05:00

A dramatic poem I'm writing for class. It echoes a little bit of what I've learned from David Steindl-Rast.

I can't show you anything, but you must see
and detach these hoses and tubes that tie you to the weak,
who ask us to do their errands.
EGG HEAD NOBODIES, NOBODIES!
we're here, right now, my friend, to shape the world,
for we are able to reach and grasp the very invisible air that binds around a sandy core
and prevents the nobodies from falling away into the deep.
And we're here, right now, my friend, in an attempt
to describe the unthinkable to those who wish to think it and dissect it and cut it apart--
and nothing we say, well, nothing can make it easier than that.
We can't let them steal this away.

But friend, this is the way it works.
We do what others can't for their own sake,
as we are needing and wanting.
and though they're nobodies, and nobodies may they remain!
They're our nobodies, and you're the one who can't see!

There are those who see our face,
ours alone. they don't see the faces of the nobodies, and rightfully so.
can they hold out their hand and gather the gentle star dust
Caking silent in their hand, as we can?

As we have before, why this talk?
The stars are a wonder, the planets hold their secrets away from us,
a provocation to come and find them
once and for all. and though we're the ones.
We can't forget what our purpose is!

Purpose, that's all you ever speak of, my friend!
And purpose has enslaved you to the doing of nothing,
nothing for nobodies. You're the rock floating through the
Way, no origin and no destination. The sun seeks you
to suck you up to eradication. You are a waste product of a galaxy of nothing.
You see nothing but what can be done, and not the
fundamental concepts of the richness, the thing that is
without doing. Without even seeing that it is. You don't see it.
And you know you can't and choose to do nothing still!
You have chosen the road to nothing willingly, and as my friend, I cannot let you stay on it.

Shouting back and forth over a digital ravine

2009-10-07T19:45:00.002-04:00

C: i was sitting here, watching Good Eats when i thought of you in your night class, and now i am happy to not be in night class. hope you're surviving!

J: you were watching good eats? without me? what was the food?

C: i AM watching--still on. he's baking some squashes. squash soup. squash dumplings. squash bread. squash squash squash squash squash.

J: sick.

C: did i ever tell you about the story where dan threw up on brent's plate after mom made him eat squash?

J: oh, great! I'd love to hear that story.

C: this one time, dan threw up on brent's dinner plate after mom made him eat squash.

J: I was kidding.

Zombie post, the second coming

2009-10-04T19:35:00.006-04:00

A long while back, I came across a very interesting question on someone's blog.

You are in a mall when the zombies attack. You have:

1. One weapon.
2. One song blasting on the speakers.
3. One famous person to fight alongside you.

I have returned to this question, after watching my housemates play Nazi Zombies like it's their job.

Paul:
Meat cleaver
John Cena
"Baba O'Riley" by The Who

Brendan:
.50 automatic
Jason Statham
"For What It's Worth" by Buffalo Springfield

Bacon:
Sawed-off shotgun
Natalie Portman
"What The World Needs Now" by Burt Bacharach

Brian M:
Ariel Jon Herbig (THAT IS NOT A WEAPON, MEAGHER)
"Let the Bodies Hit the Floor" by Drowning Pool
Kimbo Slice

Zack T:
Bullwhip
Charles Barkley
"War Pigs" by Black Sabbath

Adam:
M4 w/ M203 attachment
"War" by Edwin Starr
Bumblebee

Brian K:
.45 lever-action Winchester
Jethro Gibbs (from NCIS)
"Remember the Name" by Fort Minor

Zack M:
Double-barrel shotgun
"Your Hand In Mine" by Explosions in the Sky
Zooey Deschanel

Bethany:
Steyr Aug A3
Gerard Butler
"LoveGame" by Lady Gaga

Carrie:
Twin sawed-off shotguns
Clint Eastwood
"Requiem For a Dream" by Clint Mansell

Aimee:
Chainsaw
Edward Cullen
"Pocket Full of Sunshine" by Natasha Bedingfield

Candace:
Vin Diesel
Flamethrower
"Don't Stop Believin'" by Journey

Team Maddox (and Bobby?):
.44 Colt Magnum
Mel Gibson, Jackie Chan
"Eye of the Tiger" by Survivor

And I figured I might as well give it another go:
Pole-ax
"Maxwell Murder" by Rancid
Samuel L. Jackson

oh. I didn't change my answers at all. hehe.

Wrong side.

2009-09-28T00:40:00.002-04:00

An excerpt from my required poetry "blog." I should have written this a while ago.

*NOTE-- this is not a poem. This is just free-writing about things I could write about. Lines that are crossed out and casualties in my war against the backspace key.

And I like this game, Call of Duty. Have you ever played it?
Oh, you're Japanese.

Call Can you tell me what that's like?
The blood in my wrists pulse when I think of all the digital soldiers that look like you.
And I can't help but feel ashamed.
Because I also think of the detail that the game producers paid attention to
(maybe for more money because they can write it on the box)
like screaming sound effects
animations of the human form when you apply a bit of fire
and the ambiance "ambient" blaring siren of the flesh crackling
that sickening association with cooking bacon
it makes me want to die too.

It makes me wish that there was a game where you could even the odds.
A children's toy.
An arcade box.
Because we die, too.
Because we've got the evil.
We know what it takes to be evil.
We make playthings of people we call evil
and we line you all up and shoot you and it only costs a day's wages.
I'm sorry.
It Apologizing doesn't seem like enough.

Since when is my Bible a diagnostic manual

2009-09-24T00:27:00.002-04:00

I propose a cure.

A cure, not for the human condition,

but for treating it like a disease.

Thinking of naming it "gratitude."

Ransomed from fear and sloth

2009-07-24T14:55:00.010-04:00

I've had recurring nightmares
That I was loved for who I am
And missed the opportunity
To be a better man

["Hoodoo" by Muse]

Whoa. Apparently, Mat Bellamy is not a fan of weenie humanism-- therefore, I propose that he is the man. All in favor?

If we have been delivered, why do we freely return to faithlessness...

Thanks again.

2009-07-11T01:47:00.002-04:00

and i'll go, oh yes,
i'll go and hope the new me shows
so everybody knows
that i've found myself able to fly away
without magic feathers or jefferson aeroplanes

i've got with me all that i need

Upon each page

2009-06-24T17:49:00.002-04:00

I just had what could be the strangest revelation I've had all week.

I've never been by myself when I've done anything worthy of writing down.

You, reading this.

I would like to thank you.

Your influence on me has brought a great change,
(the realization that life is not a one-man show)
and you have stoked flames of courage,
which pulse like drumbeats in the rickety bone-cage of someone you are not,
warming and boiling the blood rushing through the canals of meaning.

Your voice thunders like a mighty tide in the mind of someone who is commonly convinced that his substance is comprised primarily of chalk and ash.

You have managed to answer, "why?"
and taught me that is more important than, "how?"
with your generous existence.

My god has a face,
and he has not shown it to me;
but somehow,
you have seen it.

The days are falling page after page,
and upon each page is your seal,
oh Lord.

An hour and a half of deer patrol

2009-06-22T00:24:00.001-04:00

One time, I forgot my keys at Carrie's house.

It was a good time, and I'm a dufus.

Across the Made-Up Universe

2009-06-13T16:58:00.003-04:00

Prepare yourself, because this is probably going to be the nerdiest and strangest ethnographic study you've ever read.

I love new experiences. Over the years, I've played a lot of games. And in a lot of these games, there are other not-real people controlled by real people... from all over the world. It can be a lot of fun to step into the realm of someone else's imagination and find another person there, doing the same thing you are. Of course, anyone can be anyone on the Internet, so your interactions are limited by perception and perceived perception. It's a lot like high school.

Since I've been doing that for so long, I suppose I took it for granted that these worlds existed.

However, over the course of the past year, I've been actively going out and trying new games like this (they're called MMOs or MMORPGs), only to see what new kinds of social environments I find. After giving a few a good try (at least a week for most cases), I've decided to report on the social climate of every MMO I've ever played. Like I said, it's pretty nerdy, but this is fun for me.

I'll also fill you in on some of the lingo that's used, if you're not familiar with the terms. Free of charge.

(Disclaimer: I didn't pay for any of this.)

1) RUNESCAPE

The very fist MMO I ever played... and I probably picked this up at about 13 years old. I thought it was the coolest, even though I apparently sucked at it. It's a game you can play for free, even though most of the game was restricted access that you had to pay for. You can run around and pretty much do whatever-- as long as you didn't hurt anyone or say any bad words (it bleeps out a lot of sketchy words like "piss"). This is because the majority of the player population consists of legal minors. This affects the social climate greatly, as you might imagine. Most conversations end up being about how they're playing the game in class, how much better they are than you (more than likely calling you a noob, no matter what level you are), and how "retarded" something is, which is usually just some random aspect of the game... or their parents.

Terms used:
noob (n.) - an inexperienced or ignorant player, derogatory (from "newbie")
level (n.) - an ordered plateau or stage of player development, usually having an arbitrary cap of maximum development (i.e. 80 in WoW)

So what? In Runescape, there are no social groups to speak of... no "guilds" or "alliances" or anything like that. You're basically on your own, so you don't have to deal with anyone at all and still play. But this makes the game boring after a while... so if you don't know the guy on the other end of another character, you might find yourself quitting after hitting rocks all day-- unless you make like other troublemakers in the game, who thrive on disrupting the normal play of everyone else in the game through harassment and trolling (usually older players). I found myself struggling to find reasons to keep playing after a very short time, and eventually quit after getting scammed by some wanker pre-teen.

Terms used:
troll (v.) - to randomly instigate and provoke to anger and fury via the Interweb (i.e. anonymously posting a picture of Buddy Jesus on an atheism message board)

2) FURCADIA

Oh Lord, I wish I didn't have to admit that even contemplated visiting the website. But it was too rich-- I had to see what this was like. Late in high school, I gave Furcadia a whirl. Now, let me tell you: it wasn't anything that my 15-year-old mind imagined. Furcadia is a world where people make characters that are animals. I said it. Animals. I was a dog. A blue dog, son.

Furcadia was also the only MMO I've "played" that wasn't actually a game. It was like a visual, virtual chatroom... where people did things, but with really no consequence. The population was also usually much older than Runescape (we're talking 16-30 years old). There's some sick people in that world. However, I did manage to share a bit of my testimony to a gray horse... next to a pool. Like I said, new experiences. But I'll never go back to Furcadia-- that was way too weird.

3) LINEAGE 2

I can honestly say that this is the only one I've ever played with people I knew. Heck, I've used it to keep in touch with Amanda and Gator-- where there were instances of all three of us killing things together. And you know what? That was the only reason I played. It made the game interesting when my brother was in my party, sharing things with me and fighting alongside. It was much more interesting to try to protect someone you knew from being killed.

People I played Lineage with include Amanda, Gator, RA (Erik Jacobson), Bryan Brigner, Shane Jewell, Chase Hammontree, Adam Knapp, Caleb Miracle, Caleb Knowles, Travis Traxler, and probably many others I've forgotten to mention.

This is also the game I've played the most, and for good reason. There are hundreds of free servers to play on, and they're all different. But the main game is usually the same-- get some friends, kill stuff, enjoy the electronic spoils. Lineage is probably the best proof I have that anything can be fun if you're willing to try it with the right people. The world is intense, even more so when you include the observations of your friends. I've raced to the top of a mountain, just to sit for a little while and look around. I've also "met" people from all over the world in this game. I remember distinctly certain conversations about the real world I've had with Latvians, Brazilians, Germans, Russians, and Australians. Besides, can you imagine me as a huge, green orc with dreadlocks?

Well, if you can't, then maybe we should play sometime. As long as you can get past the Korean-looking characters and a couple of wardrobe malfunctions... yep.

4) WORLD OF WARCRAFT
I did the impossible. I played the game for three days and quit.

It wasn't much fun. Now, technically, I say that because I wasn't playing with anyone else. There's really a lot to do, if you can find someone to do it with. But most of the chatter is about business in the game-- not the world we live in. It was disappointing for me. That, and after a couple hours of playing, I didn't even have enough money for my little gnome to have a new knife. Screw that.

5) MAPLE STORY

This is a cartoon. It was made by Koreans for Koreans. But I was initially drawn to this game after hearing about an impressive feat of electronic-real world integration in Japan, with the first recorded case of "digital murder."

Read about it here, you'll get a good laugh.

The very fact that you can even be married in the first place in this game displays what kind of time commitment most players put forth. It's ridiculous. Most people don't have time to talk-- they're too busy killing creature... after creature... after creature. Honestly, the most boring thing I've ever done; regardless of the fact that I was a pirate.

6) RAPPELZ

Another game made by Koreans for Koreans... and it didn't make it quite past the translation barrier. Not only was it really hard to understand what I was supposed to be doing half the time, but the chat is totally clogged with spam. There's no way to talk to anyone... about anything. That's all right, I figure they don't know what's going on, either.

At least I had a pet turtle. But I didn't get to name him. That's balls, Korea.

7) PERFECT WORLD

The game's not presumptuous, it's Taoist. It is fun to look at, though. Even though I was by myself, I found myself climbing mountains and walking through forests just for fun. Every once and a while, you'll see a random character sitting on the roof of a hut or under a waterfall, meditating. There's a spiritual aspect of the game that I haven't seen anywhere else, which creates a sort of Easter egg hunt to find a reclusive place to leave your character to meditate while you go take a break. Genius.

You know, I've probably played more than this. Obviously, Lineage was my favorite. But who knows? If any of my friends try a different one, maybe I'll give it a try. After all, it's a new experience.

A furrowing of the brow

2009-06-11T12:25:00.002-04:00

I hate to say it, but I'm disappointed with Obama so far. In fact, I'm pretty disappointed with the government in general.

- He pushed for the criminal Freedom of Choice act. Don't get me started, because you know that conversation will go straight to eugenics.

- GM now stands for "Government Motors." Is that seriously legal? Just how do Democrats justify this? If I had a dollar for every time I heard a Dem complain about the way that the executive branch was wielding incredibly centralized power in the previous administration, well... I wouldn't have to worry about paying rent, that's for sure. What is the difference here? I have been trying very hard not to be cynical of politicians lately, but they're not making it easy.

- When are we coming home again? oh... a couple of years still. It'll still be "Merry Christmas from a very broken Baghdad" for a long time. At least they don't have to worry about looking for a job right now.

- Health reform plan needs a lot of work. Study up, sir. This is the one bill that needs to move, pronto. In fact, why don't you just call this one the "Look How Much Money Can We Save With Only One Signature Bill." It's pretty catchy, right?

I know I don't normally talk about politics on here, but I need some release. And I don't even know how well McCain or Nader would be doing in his stead, seeing as this is tough stuff. But it'd be nice to be doing better.

The grad school list, with bonus material on why swine flu actually matters!

2009-06-04T17:51:00.003-04:00

Seeing as this seems to be the most effective mode of communication between me and the people who care about me (sorry Mom), I've decided to list the choices I'm considering for grad school. Mind you, this is for a masters in public health (MPH), for which there are only between 20-30 accredited schools in the whole country. Here goes.

1) University of Louisville
Louisville, KY
My first pick and still my favorite-- also one of the cheaper options, and the only school I've actually been able to visit. That only helped. It's a fledgling school, only having been accredited a few years ago, and began within the past ten years. The health science campus is in the downtown area, and everything I'll need will be within a two-block radius. Magical. Being on the demographic fence between "rural" and "urban", the type of practical experience I'd end up doing would be exactly what I'm looking for. And it's in Kentucky, which is probably one of my favorite states of the Union. If you don't get it, just google "Kentucky", and you'll set the first photo you see as your wallpaper. I guarantee it. All I'd have to do is get reacquainted with the dialect (as well as keep my Spartan pride undercover) and UL would make this 1.5 years very tolerable.

2) Saint Louis University
St. Louis, MO
I was skeptical of this joint at first. On the website (www.asph.org), SLU sounds like every other public health school. However, I noticed that they don't charge extra for Missouri non-residents... which made it worth checking into. I finally got my requested information yesterday. Lo and behold, they're Jesuits. That makes SLU the only Christian school on the list, but more importantly, the smallest. It's probably the priciest option (at about $40k for the whole deal right now), but not by very much. Besides, they offer more joint-degrees than I've seen anywhere else, as well as a very unique specialization: biosecurity and disaster preparedness. Very Jesuit, and an exploding field... but probably not my bag, to be honest. But who knows...

3) University of Michigan
Ann Arbor, MI
Yikes. I never dreamed I would even think about gracing such soiled grass with my righteous footsteps. However, U of M is the only college in Michigan that is accredited by the CEPH, and that's a huge deal for me. Plus, they have a slew of specialization options. I'm talking about options like hospital and molecular epidemiology (studying how diseases dare spread in the cleanest places on the planet) or industrial hygiene (studying how we can prevent job-site body destruction) And like a big ol' blue-and-maize cherry on top, there's their world-renowned research facilities (which would normally go without saying, but that's a big deal, too). Since I get a shrunk-down Michigan resident rate, U of M is ironically the bargain of the day. So, if I don't mind a couple more years of lame weather, and have the hutzpah to actually submit my application into an inevitable contestant field of certified-genius wunderkinder and only-childs, Michigan could turn my MPH slingshot into a dang trebuchet.

4) University of Kentucky
Lexington, KY
Neither does UK charge much extra for out of state residents-- they try to make up for the difference with endowment. Kentucky mainly specializes in rural, community health. It's not something I'm opposed to... just not something I'd choose over UL or SLU. Plus, this place is in Kentucky, too. Ka-ching.

5) Michigan State University
East Lansing, MI
Say what? James, aren't you a Spartan fan? Why isn't this choice on top?

Not accredited, online program.

That should be all I have to say about that.

-------------------
So, why does swine flu (H1N1) matter?

It's new. Every new disease should be treated with incredible caution. Notable cross-special pandemics would include malaria, AIDS, smallpox, and the bubonic plague-- all of those are or were really bad for us.

But isn't it just the flu?

The irony. Consider this: when was the last time you had the flu? And I'm talking about the real flu... not the "I-threw-up-twice-this-morning-and-I-have-a-headache-so-WebMD-said-I-have-the-flu" flu. It's debilitating, it's potentially life-threatening, and highly contagious. One things we know for sure about H1N1 is that it can be passed during a period of up to eight days-- one of those days comes before symptoms appear. That's right, you can get people sick before you even know that you're sick, yourself.

How could it ever affect me if so few have it?

Don't know. That's probably the scariest part of H1N1-- we just don't know much about it yet. We do know that it has components of human, avian, and swine flu in the same package. But we have no vaccine, no unique diagnostic methods, and no way of pinning down exactly how it's mutating (something for which influenza is notorious). Just keep the coughing to yourself and be clean, though, and you should do all right.

Why are people freaking out and ruining my TRAVEL PLANS???

Glad you asked. That's an attempt to keep narrow-minded tourists from escalating a situation that could have been a lot worse than it is. Americans can't go to Mexico, and Europeans are staying away from the whole danged continent. By cordoning it off, it's possible to stop it from becoming a second kind of flu to worry about. Just ask a doctor-- one flu is plenty.

Missed chances

2009-05-29T18:04:00.002-04:00

(In house where retired NFL greats call home:
MARINO is found sleeping in his bed. He is having a dream. The Dolphins have won the Super Bowl, and MARINO is lifted up on the shoulders of his teammates after winning MVP. The players then suddenly evaporate, along with the trophy and crowds, and he falls on the bare grass. This wakes him up. He pouts as he crawls out of bed and heads to the kitchen.

AIKMAN is already in the kitchen. He is sitting on a stool next to the island, eating cereal. YOUNG is also in the kitchen, making coffee. MARINO stumbles in, rubbing his eyes.)

AIKMAN: Hey, rough night, Marino?
MARINO: Yeah, I had a really weird dream.
AIKMAN: Oh yeah?

(MARINO grabs some milk from the fridge and turns back to AIKMAN.)

MARINO: (pause) Troy, if you got the chance to go back and do it again, what would you do differently?

(AIKMAN thinks. YOUNG's attention is distracted from the coffee, pending AIKMAN's reply. AIKMAN raises a spoonful of Wheaties to his mouth, and a ray of light glimmers from one of his Super Bowl rings. He smiles.)

AIKMAN: Nothing, Dan.

(MARINO looks down at his bare hand. YOUNG chuckles, but looks back to see coffee all over the counter.)

YOUNG: (cursing inaudibly)
MARINO: Whoa, got that, ace?

This is the type of thing I think about in the shower.

When I don't care

2009-05-19T00:14:00.003-04:00

was it perfection that you wanted
it added up to be your fall
to your mistakes
you wanted it to be inside your worst belief

was it another thing you started
it added up to be your fall
to your mistakes
you wanted it to be his voice that calls your name

and I'm sorry
for all those things in me
when I don't care
I know you're always there

I just wanted to get this started

["Starting Line" by Number One Gun]

Taming a ghost

2009-05-08T15:12:00.003-04:00

Vengeance always sounds like a nice idea.

From my perspective, descending upon a former love like a shadowy hawk sounded great. Like a time-traveling, transparent ghost, I would have both the element of surprise and previously unseen ferocity. I jumped all over the thought of discovering the truth that she was, and is, such a terrible person. And what right would she have to fight back? I would have victory almost by default.

Man's anger does not work out God's righteousness.

I don't hunt for sport-- I only kill what I eat. What right do I have to strike out at her? I would suffer defeat as soon as I began.

Contentment can't be trusted

2009-05-07T01:03:00.004-04:00

sometimes I hate when everything's okay
where is the chaos and decay
where's the heartache and the tears
and all the pain I hold so dear
sometimes when everything's all right
I find I just can't sleep at night
contentment can't be trusted
wasn't meant for "well-adjusted"

sometimes when things are all screwed up
oh man I just can't get enough
out of control don't let it stop
can't wait for the other shoe to drop
two moons like Damocles
like kaboom, kabow to all of these
I swear sometimes I can almost feel my soul

movin on and I'm still livin in a Babylon daze
I'm failing forward on an awkward state of grace
gonna see if all that's to that fire
is used by my high-tension wires
heck no one was watching anyway

it's like I just can't take the peace
I need the wedge I need release
need to know when things are wrong
need another angry song
so keep your quiet keep your calm
I'll go off like a bomb
if only just to feel my flippin heartbeat

movin on and I'm still livin in a Babylon daze
I'm failing forward on an awkward state of grace
gonna see if all that's to that fire
is used by my high-tension wires
heck no one was watching anyway

["Babylon Daze" by The Havenots]

He makes the road rise

2009-04-29T00:34:00.005-04:00

I think I believe, sometimes, that it's my job to crash. If there is a God who is eternally good, then the only way bad can exist in my life is through me. Think about that for a second, because that'll take you where I go.

Good needs evil. If there is nothing corrupt, then what is pure? Everyone agrees, and has been agreeing, on this. Does God need us, though? I mean, that's a good question, right?

If he's all-powerful, then no. Why would he need us?
But he still made us, so we do have some sort of needful purpose.

Fascinating. After all this time, I still don't understand. And it's good. It's difficult for me to surrender my intellect because I am my father's son. This type of submission sets me and others apart, because we're not meant to understand-- not out of pity or condescension, just practicality. I'm a vapor in the wind, and that makes me wonder why I'm trying to understand the breeze that pushes me through the air.

Skeptics say that makes it easier to deal with stupidity.
I say this is the only way you can possibly live without waiting to die.

Now, a few years down this road, I'll look back on what I said in the monumental, profound statement and smile at the fact of how naive I am. The fact that I'm not perfect pushes the road down, and it becomes difficult to see the sun sometimes.

But it doesn't stay there,
but I know I don't stay there,
but I know he's with me,
but I know he's in me,
but I know he will always be good--

but I know he makes the road rise.

What to do, what to do

2009-04-19T15:10:00.003-04:00

It's been a long time since I've actually written about what's going on in my life. It's funny, because every time I think I need to blog, I always think that I have nothing to write about. I have a lot to write about.

First of all, I'm both excited and disappointed about next year. I'm disappointed, well, for obvious reasons. In May, the vast majority of my friends will be graduating, and I will be in the audience. I didn't think it would be quite this depressing, but it truly is. But, getting past that, I will be a peer advisor for a third year (HOORAY!), and taking classes that I never thought I would be able to take. And I'll be living in the White House. That is also quite bumpin'.

Secondly, I'm gonna take a trip to Kentucky. Tentative date is May 28th. U of Louisville. Tell your friends. But don't tell them I'm a State fan-- they're probably going to be bitter for a while.

Finally, if anyone knows what I can still do for a job this summer, I'd appreciate a job. I'm working at the HHC, but that's a part-time gig. I need something to do for the rest of the summer. Hmph.

Well, I guess that was it. By the way, props to my PA crew for winning most spirited team at Relay. It was the whistles for sure. =)

Punch it

2009-04-02T01:41:00.002-04:00

For who is greater: he who speaks, or he who listens?

I will not "apply" the Scriptures to my life.

I will apply myself to the Scriptures.

(so, do it.)

Slumber and death

2009-03-10T00:46:00.003-04:00

In a possible leak of what I will talk about tomorrow at the PA meeting, I feel compelled to share this quote from A Resilient Life by Gordon MacDonald:

"Humility is freedom from thinking about yourself."

It may be empowering to frame humility in this context. I assure you, this is the message that Christ conveyed with his life in regards to selflessness. He said that we will know the truth, and the truth will set us free. What many do not read on to find out is that the Jews were stunned when he said this. Basically, they scratched their heads and replied,

"Free? Free from what?"

From sin, of course. That's what he said. From egocentrism-- from self-centered, narcissistic, God-usurping self-concentration. The truth will set us free. That truth walked out of the city with death strapped to his back and assured everyone who followed him that this life is not for us to hold onto, it is for us to give. The truth is humility, it's selflessness. He said,

"If I didn't have to do this, I wouldn't. But I entrust myself to your will, Father."

Well, shoot. No one said it was easy. I won't romanticize daily suffering-- it is what it is, and it sucks. For some reason, the powerful drug that enflamed the bones of prophets and apostles has been turned into hopeless, helpless tylenol PM... good for minor aches, pains, and sleeping. I noticed it in chapel today: in myself and in everyone else. We're asleep.

I don't think I've ever read anything in the Bible that says anything good about people who fall asleep.

Tradition supports the humble. Scripture stands behind the selfless. Reason causes us to desire it. Experience makes us know it is good. I don't see anywhere we can fight this, brothers and sisters. We've got to wake up and free ourselves from thinking about ourselves!

Course correction

2009-03-07T11:49:00.002-05:00

I don't mind the dark. I'm serious. When I walk into places unknown, I embrace the fear and the reality that I don't know where I'm going. It's fun for me to fly without a flightplan. But when the lights click on, that's when I'm disquieted. I fidget, and I can't sit still for the life of me.

Maybe walking in the dark leads me to believe that God will provide everything I need to live the way I think he wants me to. Of course, he does provide, but not always what I want. And when where I thought I was going becomes a lot farther away, it's easy for me to be discouraged. Optimism is easier when you can't see the destination.

Then, in the dark, I don't see who I am. I assume that living my life that way pleases God, because of the chances I take and the trials I face. I can tell myself that the way I've set up this furniture in my room has a special spiritual method, and it's good because of how my life happens around it in the reaching dark. The light reveals how completely unsatisfied I am with this room.

Don't take this the wrong way: this is not some kind of existential crisis. I know who I am, and I know where I came from. But I feel like where I want to be is even farther away than it used to be. Was this planned, or was this because of my lack of a plan? Time will tell. In the mean time, no matter how tired I am, no matter how the path is revealed, no matter how sick I get, I can continue to run forward. And I will.

Changing direction, I think, doesn't mean I was rebelling-- it means I was going somewhere. The wrong direction, though.

I'm the Shredder.

2009-02-25T01:08:00.007-05:00

As the camera zooms in on a giant pile of textbooks, papers, references, meeting agendas, and lists of missed calls, I'm waiting to see the hand punch through the side of the mound in dramatic resistance to the onslaught.

Like the Shredder in TMNT II.

Because like the Shredder, I'll probably look back on being covered in garbage and laugh. Then I'll want revenge.

New direction

2009-02-09T01:11:00.000-05:00

It's not always the right direction.

But in this case, it is.

Stewardship and submission

2009-02-06T21:20:00.003-05:00

(Foreword: this is an essay I had to write for an internship application. I had to describe my interests in environmental science, including my coursework and extracurricular activities.)

“In all things of nature, there is something of the marvelous.” This was said by Aristotle in Parts of Animals, more than 2,000 years before my birth. His aged wisdom may be trapped behind the bars of a history book prison, to be interrogated by the mind of a historian and not one of an observer; but it can live on in my own ways. Nature is, aside from all others, beautiful—this makes its preservation, in my opinion, a worthy end in itself. However, a definitive practicality for this emerges from our own needs as a human species, as well. It is quite obvious to me, at the very least, that humans are offered a choice of interaction with their environment: we may act as blackmailing parasites, or as mutually benevolent partners. In either instance, I believe it follows that care for the environment serves not only my ontology, but my deontology as well.

Realistically, humans are as much of a product of their environment as any other animal. In the way I believe God has intended, we have developed into a species that is quite capable of thriving in a very specific way. It helps to mention, though, that we exist quite differently from other animals. In our case, it is easy to forget that the earth upon which we set out feet, our homes, our cars, and our factories is our biological cradle and fate in common. In a Biblical sense, it is the dust from which we rise, and to which we return. Having our fates so intrinsically combined, should I not make an intentional effort to see its health, its majesty, and its beauty preserved? The earth freely gave us life in the beginning of Genesis, and because of our faults, we now subsist on our exploitation of its life. It is not only my duty to preserve what the earth is and should be, but my right. The God-given gift of life is not one to be mindlessly squandered or stubbornly dismissed as entitlement. It is because of my interest in the conservation of life and beauty that my relationship with the environment has been watermarked by a sense of mutual respect and service, with all that I do.

Stamped across the syllabi of every science course I have taken at Spring Arbor is this commitment to Biblical stewardship. I remember specifically the arduous complication of methods in organic chemistry labs in favor of processes that were “greener” than simpler methods—altogether exemplary of this commitment. In a way, I have continued this course in my participation with a project on campus, designed to utilize biodiesel instead of normal fossil fuels. My work in biology courses served my commitment on a much more macroscopic scale. Ecology led me to see the de-magnified nature of nature, and the infinitely complex machines that exist to preserve the lives of individuals and groups. In zoology, botany, cell biology, and biological chemistry, the work I put forth guided me through the discovery of the various ways that smaller, but even more complex machines preserve life as a whole.

As I have explained to my classmates on several occasions, the detail and complexity with which I understand the world has exposed me to a very unique beauty; a beauty I had not previously known, nor appreciated. How could I leave this angel to be forced to descend to the hell of human greed, to the depravity of one-sided and silent disdain? To those uninterested in the aesthetic, are not our fates bound to that of the earth? There is no way for me to distance myself from its majesty, or from the giving submission of nature—so must I choose to submit to nature, in both gratitude and duty.

What it looks like when I cave

2009-02-02T16:47:00.002-05:00

Well, nuts. I suppose I've gotta write down 25 random things about myself. But I'm not telling you to read them.

1) Contrary to popular belief, I am not "missing" fingers. They didn't fall off or anything, that's silly. My fingers are, simply, very cleverly disguised by each other, having fused while I was in the womb. (science!)

2) I bought a FC Bayern Munich jacket in Germany. The next day, I discovered that my German ancestors are from Stuttgart. This is the equivalent of a Red Sox fan buying a Yankees jersey. Whoops.

3) Phlebotomy might be my life calling. I actually think it's a lot of fun to draw blood out of other people. This makes me a vampire, I think.

4) I was baptized as a Catholic. Technically, I've been a Catholic for most of my life-- right up until SLR 2007.

5) More often than not, I don't have a plan. Ever. Flying by the seat of my pants has made life both fun and extremely challenging.

6) I used to live on an island, and it was lame.

7) On that note, I've been in the eye of a hurricane. Incredibly surreal.

8) And on that note, I celebrated my eighth birthday while evacuating for Hurricane Bonnie in '96. We still had cake!

9) I love underdogs.

10) I sincerely hope that people don't think I'm trying to be a snob when I read philosophy books. I honestly do enjoy them, and I seriously considered being either a philosophy major or minor.

11) In my senior year of high school, I wrote a research paper on the negative effect of Santa Claus on our society. In doing so, I not only received an A, but also labeled Santa as a drunk and compared him to Stalin.

12) Writing is a minor hobby of mine. I have a notebook of poems that I've written, dating back to tenth grade. Don't ask to read them.

13) My brother and I taught my dad how to play Call of Duty 2. When we're together, at least one family deathmatch is required.

14) Sujon is the name of a child from Bangladesh that I sponsor through Compassion International. He is probably the coolest kid in the universe, and has partially inspired me to become a volunteer advocate for Compassion. You might see me at some tables soon...

15) I think ska is the greatest genre of music in the history of stuff.

16) I was chopped in the throat with a foam sword during my first and only game of Dagorhir.

17) I discovered very young that eating too many Skittles in one sitting will start to bore a hole in your tongue.

18) I used to play the trumpet. I was pretty good, too.

19) I totally freaked out when I beat a song on Expert in Rock Band (drums, "I Think I'm Paranoid" by Garbage). Just ask all of the people I told about it.

20) I've had six years overall of study in French, and I've only really used it twice.

21) My dream job is a public health administrator in East or North Africa.

22) Despite the amount of griping I make about it, I really enjoyed a lot of my job at the front desk of a hotel. I wouldn't mind doing it again.

23) I'm a fidgeter. I'm also a nail-biter.

24) I shot a deer once. It had sixteen pounds of meat on it. I felt terrible, but it tasted really good.

25) I am happiest when I know that someone else is better because of me.

A letter to nature

2009-01-25T13:32:00.001-05:00

Dear Nature,

Despite the great efforts you have put forward against me in the past decade, I totally ate some eggs last night. And they were delicious.

In your face,
James

Who needs a TV?

2009-01-24T02:31:00.006-05:00

It is not a party until you're calibrating a water-filtration pitcher to eliminate all the carbon dust, while wondering if Airborne NightTime is supposed to make bubbles that fast, and cooking a six-months' frozen turkey pot pie at 2:30 in the morning.

Take it. We know how to get down in 103.

[Edit: this pot pie is all dark meat! $0.69, Meijer??? I got ripped off.]

Propane and policemen

2009-01-20T18:02:00.002-05:00

It strikes me as very odd that so many people around me have found it easy to be pessimistic about the next four years. Barack Obama, I think, speaks of a vision that has long been cast by political cynics, whom constitute most of my generation. Does he have the power to vanquish the political dogmas and infighting that make so many of us prefer to vomit than participate?

Well, no. Not by himself, and not in the time allotted.

However, he does represent a popular desire to change the way our representative sovereign state takes care of business around here. We're very lucky to have things the way they are, I'm convinced. Americans enjoy the kind of social freedoms that most of the world can only pray to have. The very fact that Obama was elected by a group of hundreds of millions of people is a testament to the unparalleled collaboration of philosophies of both liberty and community that exists in our nation. I'm proud to have been a part of it... sort of (I did vote for Nader). He is as hopeful as he is optimistic. And wouldn't you know, he and everyone else on that platform this afternoon spoke the words that we needed to hear:

Together, we've thrived; and together, we will continue to do so.

From this, though, we must temper the stoked fire of the desire of progress with the tradition of respect. The problems faced by our society are those provoked by a lack of ethical behavior.

Bankers who conspired to alleviate us of our money, instead of care for it on our behalf.

A long-planned and criminal occupation of a foreign nation, cleverly disguised as a "war", against a faceless enemy, who displays immeasurable qualities of both hatred and resolve; which is justified by a romanticized desire for global peace.

The postmodern family faces its worst challenges yet-- and their failures lead to a list of obvious, pervasive, and grinding defeats.

The popular disintegration of values regarding the life and well-being of another, to the end of personal convenience.

I hate to rain on the parade, but I can't help but point out just a few of the "gathering clouds and raging storms" Obama mentioned. He definitely has his work cut out for him...

... and so do we.

This is why I have a camera.

2009-01-19T00:50:00.002-05:00

Snow is like my star.

It's altogether glorious; and by that, I mean that it's pretty. Though, I do enjoy the delicate silence. The hushed excitement of it falling, dancing in front of me... as it swoops down through the streetlight, a glimmer of beauty embraces my eyes. As it joins the top of my head and melts, I'm reminded that there are moments on earth where the present is heaven.

I can never forget that it's there-- snow reminds me of its uniqueness with every step I take. It reminds me of the fact that I have a camera. And that nothing ever stays the same. It is only possible to embrace what is constantly fluid, remembering that the Maker has thoughtfully shown me his love, time and time again.

It is the only good thing about the cold, I've said. I will admit, though, that I've never stood shivering as I experience this love of wonder and joy of life. It's not a good thing, it's a beautiful thing.

... he says, and she rolls her eyes.

"Good result"

2009-01-15T18:29:00.002-05:00

I received another letter from my kid in Bangladesh today!

Background: I sponsor a child in Bangladesh through Compassion International. His name is Sujon, and he is currently in first place for the most awesome kid in the country.

He's in second grade... learning a lot... found Jesus (favorite verse is John 14:6, by the way)... and likes drawing. He wants to be a businessman, which I knew already, but he seems like a determined kid still. His dad works for a harvesting company, and his mom is a field laborer. He's a tweener of four kids, and he's six years old. He likes green, soccer, running... the only thing we could disagree on is that his favorite food is eggs (SICK). But you know what he asked me just now?

"Please pray for me that I may make a good result."

Profound much, kid? Yeah, Sujon. I think I can do that.

"Please pray for me that I may not squeeze the life out of you when I finally come to visit."

180 degrees away from a pillar of salt

2009-01-06T23:29:00.003-05:00

It's interesting how simply going home makes me think about the way I used to be.

There are no specific points along the way where I can say that I stopped being one person and became another. It presents a sort of envy in me whenever I listen to a moment in time in someone's life, when they've decided to change, then and there. I'm either not that decisive, or not that indiscreet.

Today, though, made me ponder what I've done. It seems that I've managed to change my own direction just to spite the fact that this train hasn't come across any switches. It's as if the track was simply picked up and moved. Is this the wrong metaphor? Were the enemy troops in my soul expecting an ambush, instead of the slow beleaguering of goodness? Possibly, I've trained and weathered my own conscience to the point where all I can see to do is the right thing. I suppose it doesn't matter what the metaphor looks like; the point is clear and I'm off-topic. How could I have done so many things wrong? Was that what it took to bring me here?

Was it just switch after switch, until the landmarks by the tracks were drawn so commonly that I didn't bother to notice them anymore?

Was it just ambush after ambush, until the blood on my hands refused to be washed away, making it as skin and nail?

Was it another poor decision after bad advice, until I was forced to find my way back home in the faceless cold, time and time again?

All I could have done, and all I want to return to change-- it would be for nothing. The switches have guided my route from home, and the blood is tied to who I've become. It seems that this ridiculous and intense chain of events has made it impossible for me to move backward. For the first time in a long time, I am genuinely happy with who and where I am.

Now, in five years, I may look back and recall all of the poor decisions I'm about to make. Or, I may look back and say,

You know, I was really on to something.

BEHOLD resolution.

2008-12-30T21:36:00.002-05:00

Like many posts, it's hard to put this in my own words. In fact, this very song was also my resolution for last year. I'll just add a few songs on the front, wrap it up with new paper, and put this baby back under the tree, then.

(links are to the lyrics. see, I made it easy!)

"The Consumer's Song" by Anti-Flag

"Typical" by Mute Math

"Revolution" by Authority Zero

"Ready and Waiting to Fall" by Mae

Every New Day by Five Iron Frenzy

When I was young,
the furthest streak of light would catch my eye;
and life was new and every new day,
I thought that I could fly.
I believed in what I hoped for--
and I hoped in things unseen.
I had wings and dreams, could soar.
I just don't feel like flying anymore.

When the stars threw down their spears,
watered heaven with their tears,
before words were spoken; before eternity.

Dear Father, I need you.
Your strength my heart to mend.
I want to fly higher,
every new day again.

When I was young,
the furthest I could reach was not so high;
and I thought the world was so much smaller,
feeling I could fly.

Through distant deeps and skies,
beyond infinity, below the face of heaven,
he stoops to create me.

Man versus himself, man versus machine, man versus the world, mankind versus me. The sun must go on, the wisdom I lack, the burdens keep piling up on my back. So hard to breathe, to take the next step-- the mountain is high, I wait in the depths. Yearning for grace and hoping for peace, dear God, increase.

Healing hands of God, have mercy on our unclean hearts once again.
Jesus Christ, light of the world, burning bright within our hearts forever.
Freedom means love without condition, without beginning or an end.
Here's my heart, let it be forever yours-- only you can make every new day seem so new.

Thank God

2008-12-26T01:57:00.003-05:00

He has been so good.

The fact that I cannot sleep tells me that I have some unresolved issues... or it may simply be the fact that I cannot sleep. I'm not worried about it.There are some things I need to say; and they're not resolutions. I'll save those for New Year, after my Spartans trounce the Georgia Bulldogs.

It's always been my policy to not itemize the little things for which I'm thankful. I don't know if this is just a preventative measure against brushfires in relationships, or if it's my INFP nature to zoom out and see the big picture behind the little things. But I'm grateful... I'm so grateful for everything that has happened this year. As David Steindl-Rast says, "When we learn to approach the world with gratefulness, everything seems to make sense." So, for the sake of thoroughness, I'll itemize as best I can:

- My old friends from home always put me in my place and force me to widen my perspective.
- My trip to the country of my own heritage was unforgettable, and demanding of a return visit.
- With new friends come new experiences... new ways to smile and learn.
- My comfort zone is sometimes cracked by a fifteen-mile lifeline... or just a well-timed hug from someone who's had their life changed.
- Core 20, you will always have a special place in my heart as my first group. You are all incredible people, and the worlds in which you live will be uniquely altered for good by your very presence in them.
- This summer was the best I've had since I can remember. From fleas to walking raves, nomcakes and assault rifles... well, it was surely not my doing.
- My family never lets me down in the fact that we always do what we want. The horizon has never been closer, and still, it is our only boundary.
- PAs, past and present, you've been the legion in which I've always taken pride marching. Even in assumed silence, your strength as a whole has carried me time and time again.
- Core 18, you more than surpassed my expectations. Already, your energy and life have shown me so much of God and myself: and for that, I can't say I'll ever be able to fully express how thankful I am. Let's make this second semester happen!
- Don, Caleb, and John... if we're discussing whether Kant was a Christian or what to put in our pancakes, or even both, we do so in the way people envy. I'm pretty lucky.
- This space is for my biochem lab group. Thanks for putting up with my baby food... I definitely would not have survived without you.
- Ryan, I don't know where you found that gorilla suit, but that was assuredly one of the best things ever.
- Carrie, I almost don't know what to say. After finally almost building up to say what I've wanted to say for months (Kerri, you need to be thanked here, too), you watched me actually run away... and it did not scare you away. You have a way of making me comfortable while keeping me in my place. The touch of your hand calms my soul, and your compassion is my envy. If english 490 does indeed kill you, I'm gonna be totally depressed, killer.
- The two great men that have gone from this earth have taught me much. Papa had a huge influence on me, and his final days have changed the way I live forever. Randy showed me how impressively a man can seek after God in times of mourning and despair. Both saints, if you ask me. And nobody has.
- This dog... the one that forced her wet nose under my hand while I was typing this... this dog is awesome. I am honestly thankful for Cassie.

Come, now, what may. The present is heaven on earth for me; my desire is simply to bring paradise to the rest of you. Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year. Peace.

The Moon and the Star

2008-12-12T22:26:00.003-05:00

The moon seems to be the lord of the sky at night. It certainly was tonight, as the star pointed out. She could hardly contain her excitement; and it was contagious. I was driving while her joy was gushing under my tires, and it was suddenly more difficult to stay on the road while sharing this moment. But later that night, when the star I had seen calmly faded into the rest of the sky, it was the shift of focus that had caught my attention.

The moon was the lord of the sky. I can respect that. The star had no trouble taking the attention off herself to point to something even better. "Is it not beautiful," she asked, "enough to wait, and ponder, and adore?" I felt no disappointment, no fear, no animosity. I felt only calmness. For the star had shown me that there was more to her light... and shown me the lord of the night sky. The microscope becomes a telescope after only widening the field of view and looking deeper into nature-- that is how I came to know the beauty and lordship of the moon.

And that moon is beautiful. The star is, indeed, dazzling and breath-taking as well, but it is the moon that makes completion. When I see it again, I will be sure to remember. I gave my word.

When I try to say it

2008-12-09T00:58:00.005-05:00

... only music comes out. Son of a gun.

1) "Whoo! Alright-Yeah... Uh Huh" > The Rapture

I used to think life's a bitter pill, but it's a grand ol' time

2) "Invincible" > OK Go

They won't be prepared for the thousand-Fahrenheit-hot metal lights behind your eyes

3) "Noticed" > Mute Math

When you look my way, something's pounding away; and I wonder if I ever felt this before

4) "Miracle" > Paramore

I've gone for too long living like I'm not alive-- so I'm gonna start over tonight

5) "Every New Day" > Five Iron Frenzy

Dear Father, I need you: your strength, my heart to mend. I want to fly higher every new day again!

A window, a star, and a ladder

2008-12-07T01:03:00.003-05:00

It was more than hot in my room. I was sweating like mad, as I had been on and off for months. Maybe a piece of me hoped that winter would bring some relief, but it didn't. As I've been told, the snow only means it's warm. But, this was after I decided that I needed to open the window.

The window was big. It was heavy. It did a pretty good job of keeping things out of my room, and keeping things in. Like a thermos. But I was dying... I mean, I had to shut the window to warm the room up. I remember when I was freezing in there. Not good times, awful times-- and everyone who saw me in that room knew it. So, I closed the window. It was the best thing to do, for me. Now, what was I thinking now? Open it? Crazy. No way.

I told people about wanting to open the window. About the heat. I think I just needed to hear other people say that I needed to. After all, I couldn't see myself sweating... and I don't think anyone else did, either. One of my friends seemed as if they were to push me through the thick glass pane if I didn't open it myself. However, my friend did seem to be comforted by the fact that I was going to open the window, because the heat was obvious. Rats.

So, I opened it. And... I felt a little cooler. The trouble presented itself immediately: what should I do with just an open window? I knew what I wanted. But how? I went back to my desk. For hours, I tried to think of what I had missed. I opened it, didn't I?

What could I have missed?

I walked to the window, and I looked out. Strange, I thought-- I never noticed that star there. I mean to say, I never saw it. I knew it was there, because that's only reason why the room was so hot. Why, out of all the stars, then?

Have you ever looked at a night sky? I mean, really looked at it? Depending on where you're walking, there's a lot or not so many of these incredibly beautiful stars. But I always find myself searching for one that's particularly bright... one that seems to greet my eyes with its own individual light. And this is how I forget about the other stars.

When I went back to my window that night, I looked at my star. I stared at her. She stared back. She motioned to the ladder in the corner.

I picked up the ladder, set it in the window, and climbed up to her. When she'd finished laughing about how awkward I'd been climbing up, we noticed it was still snowing, and that it just meant that it was warm outside.

Christmas

2008-12-04T17:26:00.004-05:00

Nothing makes me both more joyful and more cynical than the holiday celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ.

This year, people have lost lives in the name of commercialism.
Instead of a tragedy of extreme consumerism, it was an annoying inconvenience.
Some who have lost their sources of resources this year (something I can be even more cynical about) worry and struggle over the fact that they may not be able to have a "Merry Christmas" because of it.

Question. What happened to our awareness?

I don't mean to offer the truth of Christmas as a vaccination against the hard times that this economy will undoubtedly create.
I just want to question the truth of the new "Merry Christmas."
The appalling and apparent truth of the matter is that this has all gone too far!
But, as the late Irish philosopher George Berkeley reminds us:

"Truth is the cry of all, but the game of few."

What can redeem something so... irredeemably terrible?
I'm going to try to sidestep the cliché Jesus pigeonhole here, because I want to get the big picture.
So, I suppose the first question to ask is pretty simple: why did this happen?
Jesus is the Word of God, which we already had, right?
It really only means one thing.

This was an intervention.

We got this whole deal so mixed up that God Himself needed to step in and show us how to live... again.
He meant for everything to be fixed.
But He didn't mean to fix it Himself-- that's not how an intervention works.
No, I'm pretty sure that God meant to change the world through humanity.
If He didn't, then why bother with this whole... you know... "becoming human" business?
Peter became like Christ, as well as the rest of them (except for one, of course).
I cannot speak out against the deep gash of commercialism in the human body without revealing the ailments of my own soul.
Like an addict, like a criminal; He shows us that we can change with His help.

What was broken has been made like new with our willingness; but our own power was inadequate.

The gift of grace.
The power of mercy.
The joy of manifested love-- which was crying, sleeping, feeding, blinking, breathing, and laughing in a soft, glorified scarf one night-- I celebrate it.
Because I don't understand.
Still.
But I know for a fact that I can latch onto it with all the strength I have!
What am I, perfect?
I'm not perfect and it will still save me.
He will save me.

Now, that's what I call redemption.

What I do when I'm bored

2008-12-02T23:39:00.001-05:00

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

A restless goodness

2008-11-29T00:05:00.002-05:00

The words you have spoken, whether yours or otherwise...
they have melted such a stone cold heart.
The hopes and dreams, such the ones I possess...
they have the strength to continue.
Oh, my restless feet, can they find all rest and solace...
in the speech of such grace and glory?
The Apostle was mistaken, the poison was subdued...
healing, merciful water is all that has flown out!
The void and space between, the distance from me to the surface...
I can feel the gap closing.

And it was good.

... but it's okay (a lesson in grace)

2008-11-23T00:46:00.004-05:00

I put off my tedious article summary of how tuberculosis avoids our immune systems to blog...

I choose to lead my core group in being active participants in the world around them, and maybe to do something for someone else for a change (not saying they don't anyway), instead of sit in that chair with my name on it and rest after a tough week...

Necessity takes a back seat to video game rivalries and discussions about the nutritional value of iceberg lettuce...

Everywhere I go, I'm really cold...

No matter how much I sleep, I never fail to wake up exhausted...

Sparks flash and scald the parts of my heart that have been cold for such a long, long time...

Sometimes, I feel empty...

My Father seemingly flashes in and out of my life...

... because I know that we're always together, anyway.
... because I'm comforted by my status as a new wineskin.
... because my mom tells me that I'm no good to anyone cold.
... because it's always passion that wakes me up.
... because I won't always have the snow.
... because I won't remember anything in this life as well.
... because there's more than one kind of comfort.
... because I'll need to look back later...

... to see how this promise of [grace] is fulfilled.

Defense

2008-11-18T01:07:00.002-05:00

You thought I was serious?

You thought I actually wanted that?

Who knows where you've been... taking dreams and sucking the lives out of regular people. But if you gave me a pencil, I couldn't make a diagram. Not of your menace.

So, I'm just saying that I don't want any part of it.

NONE.

YOU! I can't believe your nerve. Who just takes breath for fun, for the heck of it? They don't deserve your fists, they deserve for you to look away! Your eyes cause tremors, and your glances drive people into comas. I would pluck them out if I could reach you, you sick coward.

I can't even describe the horrible spite in my soul that I have for you!

Yet you are the water, and I'm stranded on the ice. No matter how I beg, no matter how loud my prayers-- you'll be there. Slowly, surely making your way down the interstate, waiting for just the right exit. After all, the road was named after you when it was built in the first place.

The funny thing is that they taught me to build roadblocks, but I don't bother with them.

You know why? God helps those who help themselves. You said it yourself.

Try it again.

I dare you-- nay, I will bury you.

A plea

2008-11-16T02:01:00.003-05:00

My mother told me that I was born with my eyes wide open. Time was never wasted with needless crying. I was looking for you, even when I didn't know you. Call it a hunch.

But there was no curtain. No masquerade, no hoops... no prerequisites. There were no guards at the door, with which you could search me for the weapons I wielded against you. You probably can't describe the pain, especially when I didn't apologize. Maybe you wasted time crying.

Look at how you have entranced me! Look at how you have deliberately guided me into your mystery: and not against my will! Escape plans are as good as tinder now. Just more fuel to feed the flames-- the flames that I, Prometheus, claimed.

Was it just? Maybe. You say no; my sources disagree. When the piece is finished, when the world is on fire with what I have brought them... I pray it doesn't take me that long. My eyes are open again, and I don't waste time with crying.

Stop my heart if this necktie ever gets comfortable.

Sing as you always have when my eyes search.

Fall upon my head from the sky when I forget your quiet majesty.

Burn my rationale when I hold back.

Be the only door-kicking boots I'll ever wear.

Fill my mind with your mercy-- my heart with your promises.

Rip the roof off my hut.

Hold me while I drown.

Remind me of your love as I stand in the gallows.

Be all I see when I finally close my eyes.

Call it a hunch.

The Sword

2008-11-06T22:53:00.003-05:00

Offense shocks me from my slumber,
as electric arcs stab my fingertips.
Caustic passion wells up in my soul,
and pours out through embittered fists.

I wonder how my message is so quiet.
The love spews from my mouth
as the penetrating, ear-splitting cry
of my enemy’s blood flows down.

Can you see through this tightened iris?
...and now? Oh, the boiler—burning in kind
behind my terrible, white-hot eyes.
Beloved black smoke clouds my mind.

My heart pounds like a war drum.
My lust is the fight: is it true what he said?
He was betrayed. “It will be your grave.”
Mercy is not my name; I would rather be dead.

November 6, 2008

Failure is not fatal

2008-11-04T22:30:00.006-05:00

Wind passes right through my skin as I fall down
this furious speed will only destroy me
Crippling and devastating momentum
approaching maximum velocity
And this is how it's going to be
the point of it all
'Cause this is what was meant for me
recklessly I fall

Hulking, smashing, I come crashing
nothing like when I was small
I am unstoppable
I am the cannonball

Thirty-two feet per second I increase
as the exponents will multiply
I'll never stop to look back behind me
cutting through the bright blue sky
And this is how it's meant to be
untethered I will soar
I'll barrel towards the earth below
it's what I was made for

Hulking, smashing, I come crashing
nothing like when I was small
I am unstoppable
I am the cannonball
That feeble coward that you knew
has undergone an overhaul
I am unstoppable
I am the cannonball

And everyone will say it's just an accident
like some mishap or a tragedy
I think that failure has a purpose
and I don't believe it's chance if I fall
And I know that if I ever do fall
he will catch me
And if he ever lets me fall down
for the good of those who believe him
He will make me into a cannonball

Unblemished, and faultless
A burning luminescence
Unequaled precision
Beyond your scope of vision

("Cannonball" by Five Iron Frenzy)

Facebook strikes again

2008-10-27T00:58:00.002-04:00

This would be the second time that Facebook has taken down one of my videos, without prior warning or permission, due to an anonymous (to me) copyright claim.

Let me catch you up. A while back, I made a video. It consisted of video and pictures that I took on my camera during a week's worth of nature's goodness in Montana. Every single picture and every single second of video was shot with my own hands. The only thing in the video that did not belong to me was the background music, and I gave it just acknowledgment.

Now, that's the only reason I can see why they would do this. As far as I know, it's not against the law to use background music for a video. Even then-- I'm not intentionally attempting to damage the reputation or earnings of Boston, Newsboys, Switchfoot, Fastball, or Fatboy Slim with my video. All things considered, I'd say that even with my totally destructive video, they're doing "more than fine."

So, why? Why, Facebook? Am I such a terrible citizen that you deemed it necessary to devalue my hard work to criminal shame, without any semblance of a warning at all?

I filed a counter notice. We'll see where it goes.

Wasted votes

2008-10-23T18:55:00.002-04:00

"No, seriously, who are you voting for?"

I'm not sure if anyone takes me seriously the first time I tell them that I'm voting for Ralph Nader. He's actually my favorite candidate, and if you find that hard to believe, then maybe you should detach that corporate media slurry hose from your mouth every once and a while. Look at what the man stands for... and look at what I stand for. If you don't think I would drop what I'm doing to take part in one of his causes, then we should chat sometime. You know, one on one.

I think he's very Christ-like. He cares about people, and he's never been paid to say it. In fact, all of the money he receives is guided by his own hands back to the people. I love that. He doesn't care that people don't think he's going to win. He sees the need to change the American political system back to the way it should be-- as it was laid out in the Constitution-- and he believes the only way to do this is from the inside. It's unfortunate that he'll never be on the inside, however, and this is probably why he'll never be elected. So, all you political noobs who want my vote in four years better start taking notes, because Nader resonates with people like me.

So, what is this talk about my vote being wasted?

Through the lens of a corporate-driven election, yes, it's wasted. I'm not voting for the two scumbags they want us to vote for. It's very true that Barack Obama refusing to debate with both John McCain and Ralph Nader on two separate occasions was a pretty smart political move. Why take on two old farts, when the people are fine with you taking on only one? It makes sense; but you see, it doesn't score any points on the accredited "legitimizing-the-opinions-of-other-citizens" meter. Now, that's what I call reaching across the aisle. I'm sorry, that might have been a bit close to home... just to be fair, everyone knows that McCain has been in big oil's back pocket, confessed to voting with a real stinker of a president 90% of the time, voted in favor of the Bailout just because "something needed to be done", and pulled one of the most monumentally shameless pandering ploys available for recollection from my own memory by picking Palin as a running mate. Seriously, what a tool.

Coming back to this ridiculous election, it's becoming every day more similar to a bad youth Christmas pageant-- the kind where Joseph and Mary are the star of the show, and you're just the unfamiliar kid in the corner dressed like a sheep, and I'll let you guess which one of these weiners is Mary. It's awful to watch people try to be active in the political process, only to be led by the nose to only two of the six legitimate candidates. So, on the grand scale of things, I suppose my vote is twistedly for McCain... somehow.

But it got me thinking, that's for sure.

Over and over, I've made fun of single-issue voters. Primarily, Christian single-issue voters are about abortion and gay rights (or wrongs, rather). Now, I'm being persecuted, because I don't stand on either side of the political fence. One side wants me to vote in line with my Biblical values (which I've read, and buddy, "pre-emptive strike" and "regime change" are not the same as "love your enemy"); yet the other argues that my vote draws from their pool of votes out to the radical (which is a viewpoint that hasn't even been legitimized by your actions in any way-- thanks to your shrewd politics, you've alienated a powerful group).

It makes me think that people shouldn't be persecuted by how they vote. It's their vote, after all.

Vote for McCain. Vote for Obama. Nader, Barr, McKinney, Baldwin... maybe just the candidate that promises to do what you want them to do-- it doesn't matter to me. Just vote, and I promise not to make fun of you.

Wasted votes. You've got to be kidding.

James' top 10 of relevance

2008-10-21T21:17:00.002-04:00

This is how you copy your friends. Also, to blog when I really don't know what to say... and the music I hear says it all so well.

1) "Weighed Down" > Jars of Clay

(As we deny that love is still the king / not as weak as we make him out to be / love lies here waiting all alone / can a king be a king weighed down?)

2) "Showdown" > Pendulum

(But it's simple, you were wrong / you must have known that we did not belong / I know you thought I sold my soul / but you never told me to my face / I just had to let you go)

3) "The Spy Hunter" > Project 86

(Pawns standing in awe / of the game, of the stage / you worked so hard at building an empire / of secret rooms to display to yourself / and add to your wealth / and the sting of, oh, it stings / when I saw it all come crashing / I witnessed the sound of a million voices / screaming for a public hanging)

4) "Countin' Down the Days" > PAX217

(Now I'm waiting for the day, the day to come / when I, when I will be with you / I know where you went / I know where you are / I know who you're with 'cause your just like Him / I'm gonna see you in a little while)

5) "You're On Fire" > MxPx

(Now that you're on fire, you're voice is like the wind / now that you're on fire, let life begin again / now that you're on fire, a new day has begun / now that you're on fire, you are like the sun / more than anything I'd like to see / better brighter days for you, for you and me)

6) "This Is The Countdown" > Mae

(you tread to stay above the waterline / but never taking off the weights that / keep us stuck here / in the comfort, in the fear / I’ll never know what we were fighting for /but I’m still looking to break out)

7) "Farsighted" > Five Iron Frenzy

(to all the farsighted, the skies never looked so clear / hello to the hopeful, goodbye to the full of fear / glorious, luminous / the heavens have painted, have brushed you with angel wings / and you know in your heart / that the farsighted see better things)

8) "The Nothing" > Equalibrum (misspell intended)

(lurking in shadows and creeping in darkness / is a will to commit an unspeakable harm / so this is the pick of a beat of heart / that women and children are easily marked / completes every deed and as vicious imparts / it's here and it's keen and it's visibly sharp / appearing in flesh in its various forms / shadows the earth as it hovers and swarms / feeding on anything breathing and warm... / when you open your door, it's already inside)

9) "Permanent Holiday" > Suicide Machines

(just to today, I was forced to say / I'm going on a permanent holiday / I'll drop what I'm doing, it's okay / I'm going on a permanent holiday / left a note saying I'll be gone for a long time)

10) "15" > Surrogate

(so forget about the money / and forget about yourself / and forget about the calculated risk / it never ends well)

There it is. I would suggest these songs to anyone; their rockitude is unmatched.

How to jump the gun properly

2008-10-18T20:42:00.002-04:00

So- dreams the other night. The first one is a little creepy, and doesn't really tie in, but I thought I'd add it in anyway. This is my journal, and there's something about it that makes me want to ensure that I don't forget.

Dream #1: My friends (I forget the faces, exactly) and I are inside an old creepy house with lots of windows and two stories. It's the type of dream that isn't exactly in B & W, but not totally in color either. Sort of a grayscale/sepia tone going on there, with old looking furniture. Very unhappy clouds in the sky, but no rain. Stay with me, now. For some weird reason, a freaky little girl comes down out of the sky in a cyclone-type funnel and begins to walk toward the house. It's always a freaky little girl, right? Anyway, she attempts to convince the rest of us that one of us has committed a blatant offense which must be punished by death.

Do we take the bait? No. We stab the ho.

Afterward, she reappears out of the sky and accuses another one of us of a different crime, and we take the liberty to sing her a different lullaby for her next dirtnap. Gun-- dead. Even blunt-freaking-broomhandle: vanquished. Every time we do this, the bodies continue to pile. It's no wonder I woke up and thought I was losing my mind. Jury's still out on this one.

Then, the dream that correctly corresponds with the title...

Dream #2: I come across the revelation that I can graduate this year. That's right, in Spring 2009, with the rest of my classmates. This is the one that woke me up for good-- the terror of seeing the ASP in a dream is truly formidable. But it made me think... could that be true?

When I checked the ASP, I got my answer. Myth "confirmed."

Thoughts poured down through my brain, and my cognition was awash with the possibility of graduating this year: $24,500 that would not even need mention, a headstart on my peers in the field, a launch into the life I'm pursuing, and a real chance to test by fire the solidity of my faith in an unbelieving world. Hold, please.

Would I even be ready?

"... but the Lord directs his steps..." Guys, I don't know about this one.

Stallion's song, reprise

2008-10-15T19:09:00.004-04:00

Ice cream? You've got to be kidding. I wasn't there, but I swear I could see the insult shatter against Papa's stern countenance in the nursing home.

This stallion wrote his rules-- he knew that within the limits of God's pasture, the grass was greenest. The best part was the wind against his back. The only time he wore a saddle was when he became too weak to buck it off; even then, he still refused to be tamed. And here, in the nursing home, he was making ice cream with the other women. How did you think it was? Is the stifling chafe of this saddle supposed to be as worthy against the skin as the soft breath of freedom?

"It sucked."

Just let it come, he said. Even before he began to improve, he accepted the end. You can't live forever. If this is how it must be, then take me away. This was neither a plea to live, nor a plea to die.

It was only the simple submission that the life of a saint is never his in the first place.

[Rest in peace, Papa. Should the skies fall, my heart will never forget you.]

Victory and/or death

2008-10-08T23:59:00.003-04:00

You know, I can't believe it's finally here. We leave for Cedar Bend tomorrow. I hope to G-d that this semester will be as memorable as it has been fast.

Anxiety and excitement spark back and forth in my brain in equal amounts. Of course I don't know what will happen-- that's part of the experience. How much could I control... what levers are in my reach to tweak? The usual situation, though, ends up showing me that my finger is too weak to push these kinds of buttons: they're meant for bigger hands.

Hallelujah. I will say again, hallelujah; for uncertainty is the yeast of our daily bread. For who can see the product of a baker's labor until after it is too late to turn back? In the same way, I lead my group as we test this depth with both feet. It will be dreadfully uncomfortable, and we might not emerge again in this ocean. But I tell you the truth-- I would rather drown as a body suspended and dependent on the permeating, penetrating sea of the mercy and love of Christ than breathe another breath of the deadly, destructive oxygen that swamps the world. I fear not that I may never again take in the air of self-centered arrogance... no, I embrace the sacrifice of succumbing in worldly death to G-d's endless, overwhelming grace.

I'm warning you. It costs little to be safe. It costs everything to be free.

Politics makes my truth hurt.

2008-10-04T19:25:00.002-04:00

Some of you may have seen commercials on TV, with scary corporate logos that read "Human Double Inc" and "EMBROLUX." If any of you may possibly have been misled by this hostile attempt to invade your private mind, read and be enlightened:

ARTICLE 1
Section 27. (1) Nothing in this section shall alter Michigan’s current prohibition
on human cloning.

and...

(2) (c) No person may, for valuable consideration, purchase or sell human
embryos for stem cell research or stem cell therapies and cures.

Oh, so Proposal 2 won't legalize human cloning or sale of human embryos. What a relief!

The Big Dream

2008-10-03T16:45:00.002-04:00

My dream involves physics. You were warned.

In class today, we were discussion the "conservation of linear momentum." In English: things don't just start moving. The energy has to come from somewhere, and in quantities related to mass and speed. So, we used the example of a car on Earth. When a car accelerates, it pushes off the Earth. Therefore, the total momentum of the planet Earth is affected every time I pull out of the parking lot. What a trip. So, this got me thinking. I raised my hand, and asked the question,

So, if we coordinated every car on Earth to drive in the direction against Earth's rotation, could we theoretically add an hour to the day?

In theory, yeah, that would work. I thought it made sense. My question was shortly thereafter shot down like a New York yuppie in the parking lot of U of M Flint.

No, there's really no way.

A curse on you, dream-stealer! I say all of that to say this: don't be afraid to ask the big questions. I know it would take hundreds of years for cars all going the same direction to even add ten minutes to a day... but the idea is fascinating, isn't it? Some people want us to believe that the border of "no, there's really no way" is lined by concrete walls and razor wire, with armed guards at every possible crossing. I tell you that the imagination treats this fence as the wall of a sand castle-- the overwhelming, God-modeling tide of human curiosity blows it away as soon and often as it desires, and this is not a behavior that can be repressed.

Thank God.

A little nugget of wisdom

2008-10-01T22:22:00.003-04:00

I hate when people say that. However, I feel like this saying, which I recently received, is important:

"When work begins to feel overwhelming, just remember that you're going to die."

I can only hope. puh.

Stallion's song

2008-09-29T22:07:00.002-04:00

"You've lived your whole life for us, Dad."

Those were the words of assurance from my mother to my grandfather this past weekend. I watched on, uncomfortably, as a man I always knew to be so tough and strong was held to a hospital bed by the lead weight in his lungs. Machines, tubes, wires-- medicine was doing jobs he'd been doing unassisted his entire life. Simple breath came as a chore; one painful chore after another. The morphine took the edge off, but I could see that cringe of pain in his face every time his heart monitor began to chirp. Tears flooded the room. After all, this was the man who survived so many attempts on his life from nature... then, to hear him mutter the battered words: "I give up." Tears were our only reaction.

It was too much... for all of us.

It was then that Father Bob cautiously waded into the room. The fear of death and the red-hot hand of pain must have been evident in Papa's eyes, because Father Bob knew exactly what to say. And God began to speak... not from a loop, not a recording. This was for him, and us.

"Tony, this is not giving up. This is not defeat. This is victory. When you see that light, you don't hesitate. You run for that light, Tony."

Saline fear gushed out from Papa's eyes. The works of his life, the people he lifted up in spite of himself, the world he changed forever-- they came to the front. Fear was not his salvation, and he was firmly convinced. God's vessel was ready to return to its harbor.

So, who will carry this man's legacy? When he finally departs, will he know that the love and power that comes from the perfect law that gives freedom... will he know that I, for the rest of my days, will keep it with me?

Rice A Roni

2008-09-24T16:17:00.003-04:00

[ME is browsing Facebook on his computer in the kitchen, visibly bored. A lukewarm skillet, filled with uncooked rice/vermicelli mix sits on the stove top. MIRACLE enters.]

ME This Rice a Roni is taking forever to cook. [exasperated sigh] Maybe I added too much butter. I dunno.

MIRACLE Oh, well, see here? This knob? You turn it up.

ME [not paying attention] Dude, I already have it up more than I should. It's gotta be too much butter.

MIRACLE No, I mean this knob. [points to the "rear left" knob, which my skillet is on] Unless, of course, you want to use the right one.

Where would I be without my friends?
I mean, besides hungry. =)

Life on an abacus

2008-09-22T19:35:00.003-04:00

I know it was for the freshmen, but something that Dr. Correll said during the seminar today resonated with me. I wish I could quote it, but I can't produce what he said, verbatim. So instead, it's story time.

Back during my freshman year, I took a class called EDU 100; the introductory education class. Not being completely convinced of my calling to teaching, I decided to give this class a shot to be my make or break in the field. Now, everything was going well until I began my classroom observations. My assignment was to observe a typical 10th grade biology classroom-- my projected stomping ground after graduation-- for a few hours every week. That which I expected to be an eye-opening experience made sure not to disappoint. It was interesting to me enough, as a scientist, to watch cause-and-effect relationships all around the room; to break the act of learning into a cold science. I'm not saying that's all that happened, I'm just saying that was my reaction. My life, as I knew it, would be built around a daily seven-hour block of tables, figures, definitions, and dissections; hook-ups, break-ups, dances, and assemblies. Some people have no trouble living life in a predictable schedule. I declined. It was in that moment in time when I used college to discover something about myself, and that was that I handle routine the same as a plague.

So, back to senior year. I sit in White Auditorium, next to the greatest core instructor ever, contemplating the way I live. When I returned to my room, I looked at my daily schedule on Facebook... and sighed in relief. What was presented to me was as much of my life that may be presented on a table: the portion of my existence that shows up on a graph. Let me tell you, and you can check for yourself, it's not much. Others need me to be predictable, and I understand why. But even more so, I need... I desire; I am unbridled in my desire to be unpredictable.

After all, who decided life should be that way? The tedious comparison of every second against the colored paper table on the door... the dull, grayscale moments of my day slowly descend into obscene cold in my soul. My soul, then, exploding from being compressed, somehow, into a cubic representation of a "productive" existence. Screams pour out from under the lid of the casket where a childlike approach to faith and living is contained, as rays of light in the darkness. The overgrown path to the Father, warmed by the bare footsteps of indomitable children, guides me through every day.

Sanctified to Wonder

2008-09-11T23:40:00.003-04:00

Burn.
Landscape,
all I see--
all I see burns.
See
what comes!
The nothing
inside our homes.
Love,
power,
forgiveness;
are they the same?
Turn,
fall down.
"Break our hearts;
we broke your heart."
Love,
power,
forgiveness;
have been the same.
See
our God!
His mercy,
his compassion.
Burn.
We all
meet with you
after we burn.

You
will give
praising lips
the words to say.
You,
the dreams,
deliverance,
wonders of You.

(Joel 2)

Usurper

2008-09-10T16:42:00.004-04:00

It's interesting to see what I do when I actually do it. I find it interesting to see that my soul believed that I wasn't kidding around when I adopted my family motto (translated from Latin): deeds without words. Hunger is what I now deal with, fire is the inhabitant of my spirit. I simply cannot stop becoming more of the man I am meant to be in Christ... and it is absolutely one of the most thrilling processes I've ever experienced.

However, it would be admittedly more thrilling if it didn't involve so much work. Biochemistry is not easy, nor is spiritual formation, nor abnormal psychology, nor physics. Unlike similar, former phases, I am unhinged in the pursuit of what is good. Nothing holds me back from being what I need to be. Nothing holds me back from harnessing what I am through action.

Like I said, thrilling. I'd recommend this to everyone.

A lightning-rod wrist

2008-09-02T23:01:00.002-04:00

Worship is the admission that we mean nothing in the vast scope of a wonderful creation.

Worship is the celebration that we mean everything to a vast and wonderful Creator.

Amateur Meteorologists

2008-08-30T22:00:00.003-04:00

Storm's coming.

I remember feeling the same way last year. Like I've said to all of them, all of the new PAs last year looked around at each other on Sunday last year, and silently channeled the same, desperate thought: "What the heck did we get ourselves into?"

As a group, we've been going through 1 Thessalonians. Robin gave us a few verses to think over, and there were quite a few correlations between the ink on the page and the motives in our hearts. I decided to write a few lines of verse for each of the verses she gave us during our reflection times. These became, then, a very long compilation of verse... which is rickety and doesn't always flow. However, I think it fits as encouragement for all of us. Here it is.

1 Thes 1:4, 2:7-8, 2:12, 3:8, 3:11, 4:7, 4:18, 5:11

There was a sign,
so odd that it came through the telephone.
What did I find?
So odd to understand that I'm not alone.
We are all on the same island in the sea,
with no clue what we're worth or we are to be.
The escape lowered to my hands, I held
just us and no one else-- just us and no one else.

So childish in your ways and holy in your thoughts;
so proven what gentleness such righteousness has bought.
The paper reads, "Look up, and see:
play along with your family."
As we show you what is good and right,
no praise could summon higher delight.

The face of the furnace, grim, unrelenting;
the sinews of my weak heart are dissenting.
In, in, walk boldly in the heat,
and bet my life you'll follow me.

I close my eyes to see
your bold faces breathe in me.
If only your eyes could see
my life abundantly.

The hopefulness of sound
makes me wish I was around,
just so I could sing the tune.
But all my best laid plans
have no place in this dance.
Still, love increases, look at you!

As the mouth of the ocean
consumes the side of a mountain,
tarnished, beaten rocks spill out into the sea.
Your very lives have spoken
of chains that were broken,
set apart is now the only thing you can be.

When your mind is lost on the ocean waves,
when your feet burn in paths of flame,
in these words, may you find rest:
dancing in the fog is what we do best.

It's true, what the king said.
When blood melts the earth, his words pulse through my head.
Who were just spectators,
are now my valued, steel-hearted brothers and sisters.
So when the sun explodes, and the moon turns a cold face;
we chosen, we happy few, we will have grace.

Man, what should I even name this? So dang discombobulated... =P

Terra Therma

2008-08-19T00:21:00.005-04:00

Three blank, white walls
enclose what has passed.
They offer no calm;
comfort does not last.
Drink in the sky,
what's left of the chains
shuts out all the light--
black as the night rain.
The smoke is inhaled,
it waits in the lungs;
but life can prevail
with a headlong plunge in the fire

The choice we all must make
between the heat and the fire:
there lie sinful graves
between the heat and the fire.
Rooms which held your youth,
halls in which you perspired
held such childish truth;
halls in which you perspired.

Follow, headfirst into the flames!
The red and black ink says you'll never be the same.
Headstones, burnt in the cliff-side,
will always mark what we left behind.

Game review: Disney's Pirates Online

2008-08-10T18:42:00.004-04:00

Under the influence of my "friends", I decided to download and try out Pirates Online. This game was an awful waste of time. I give it a -9.5/10, and I would not recommend it to anyone, ever.

Now, I'll explain.

First of all, on the website, the required system specs to run the game could be found on a computer that was built to survive the Y2K virus. However, I found my computer (which is significantly better than the required system to run the game) was constantly trying to keep up. I would take a few steps, freeze. Another couple of steps, freeze. This took place on an island where it was only me walking around, making it very difficult for me to slay a sand crab before it pinched me to death. Ugh.

Next was the name system... I can understand what they were trying to do with this, and I understand why they want it this way. You're only allowed to have a "piratey" name. It makes sense, doesn't it? Now, they give you a set of pirate names they've provided that you may choose a combination of for your pirate. I didn't like any of them. After a little deliberation, I decided on the name "Tiny Hands Flannigan." After all, he was my pirate, and he had a mohawk. I followed the long list of rules they gave me, and turned my name in for approval; I was temporarily given the name "Pirate." This afternoon, while I was loading the game and simultaneously wondering why I hadn't already uninstalled this stupid game, a message box brings word that my submitted name had been rejected. Seriously? Seriously. Apparently, "Tiny Hands Flannigan" has some innuendoes or drug references of which I was previously unaware. I had to settle for "Isaiah McWrecker."Ugh.

Finally, the commercial says the game is free and it lies. While you can play the main story quest (and believe me, it takes a while) and get a few goodies and upgrades for free, the vast majority of the game is available for $10/month. Give me a break! So, after getting stabbed to death by a giant scorpion on a deserted island for a sufficient amount of time to afford a nicer ship, Isaiah McWrecker gets to look forward to sailing around in the same frickin' sloop he started off in. Ugh.

There are redeeming qualities. The most obvious is the fact that you can be a pirate, which rules. The ability to run around and slay baddies with weapons such as a cutlass, pistol, or even a voodoo doll is pretty wicked-- and the fighting was admittedly cool when I stumbled upon a ten-second lapse in the walk-freeze-walk cycle. Finally, I loved to sail and take down ships in the open water. But it's tough when you can't see what's happening most of the time, and even tougher when the only ship you can sail in is constantly inferior, because you haven't handed any money over to the Disney empire for a digital galleon. "Captain McWrecker" doesn't really have a good ring to it, anyway.

It's a pretty good idea, but the epic-failitude in fundamentals (such as allowing the game to run smoothly, giving me my creativity, or the ever-important free of cost) hurts this game way too bad for it to ever be fun.

By the way, I apologize for yelling "Stop blowin' 'oles in my ship!" every twenty seconds in the lobby this afternoon. I couldn't help it.

The Hand, The Furnace, The Straight Face

2008-08-07T23:32:00.003-04:00

The tension is mounting here. Students all over the area are anticipating our return to this school, whether grudgingly or excitedly. What's even more urgent-- the days are falling off the countdown even quicker this month.

This will be a test. As with every major step forward in life, this school year will shake out what we've decided to keep in our souls. Sure, we can allow God to be the potter to our clay. We respond joyfully, like good disciples, to our shaping. However, a vessel in this state is absolutely worthless.

It is made whole in the fire.

How will we react to the heat? The intensity of the kiln of our lives, will it leave us cracked? Split, disfigured, useless? Will we discover that our preparation was flawed, leaving us to deal with such gross inequities and an inherent inability to cope? Will we be stricken by despair in regard to our new-found worthlessness?

No.

We will be solidified. We will be transfigured. Our souls, in their fragility, will contain the joy and love of the living God. We will see with our own eyes what God has decided we will become, and we will be overjoyed at the sight of the virtuosity of his intensional craftsmanship. But for this to occur, one thing is certain:

He must be the potter.

No one else can take our most troubling, depressing, recurring-nightmare-causing issues and form them into such, as beautiful as this. We must stare down our wills on the dust-swept roads of our hearts. We must order our sin to be put to death. We must be willing to be put in the fire.

The prayer of Hezekiah, a man in the fire:

"O Lord, God of Israel, enthroned between the cherubim, you alone are God over all the kingdoms of the earth. You have made heaven and earth. Give ear, O Lord, and hear; open your eyes, O Lord, and see; listen to the words Sennacherib has sent to insult the living God.
It is true, O Lord, that the Assyrian kings have laid waste these nations and their lands. They have thrown their gods into the fire and destroyed them, for they were not gods but only wood and stone, fashioned by men's hands. Now, O Lord our God, deliver us from his hand so that all kingdoms on earth may know that you alone, O Lord, are God."

Hezekiah had no reservations in his trust in God, even with an incredibly mighty and insulting Assyrian army breathing down his neck-- threatening to destroy his nation, his wealth, and his power. He trustingly admits that he is not the potter. He puts the situation into the hands of a god that was not created, but creates. I don't want to ruin the ending for you. I will say that Isaiah got involved, and this king came out of the fire as a beaming, glowing hot, bright red vessel of God's glory.

2 Kings 18-20 tell the story, and I highly recommend it.

Night of the Walking Rave

2008-08-06T00:39:00.002-04:00

What happens when the power goes out in the village?

RAVE.

I'm gonna admit, I was feeling pretty good tonight. I had rocked my finals in phlebotomy (written and practical), and I came back to hang out with my friends. All of a sudden, during a video game...

ZAP mmmmrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrow. Bye bye light.

We only had the emergency lights on, and that was pretty much all. We're all freaking out, because 1) a certain couple was going at it in the lobby, and we all faced it when we walked out of our rooms 2) our alarms were toast, and there was really no sure way that we'd be on time for work tomorrow 3) no A/C meant that we'd probably not get to sleep anyway. As I wander around the campus to measure the situation, a couple of campus safety officers approach with light sticks, in order for us to see in our dark rooms. They handed them out to us as we stood in a huddled mass in the parking lot, complaining. Of course, my mind swam in the ocean of only one, truly beautiful idea...

RAVE.

I run in and get my computer, load a bunch of sick dance music on a playlist, bring the computer out to the parking lot, and blared it. It was awe-inspiring. After a while, it began to lose steam. People got tired, or were just not feeling the need to dance with lightsticks in the parking lot. Go figure. One of the officers tells us that it would be okay to go chill in the student center while the power was fixed. Thus began

the Night of the Walking RAVE.

I carried my computer, and so ensured that we would continue to soak the air with obnoxiously contagious beats and samples as we walked across the campus. We stopped at Gainey, and shared the experience with the Highbeamers. We raved on the Concept. We raved in the library. We finally stopped at the Fireside, where we raved until about midnight. At the signal that the power was then restored, we returned to the village. But we will never forget the rave.

For an optimist, I'm pretty pessimistic

2008-08-02T00:06:00.003-04:00

I know that's flipped around. I did it on purpose.

My thoughts have been bothering me as of late. If the tagline for my blog is "do not stand in the center if you do not wish to be shaken", then I guess the appropriate summary of these thoughts has been: "do I get anyone to stand with me?" You know. Lonely thoughts.

It's easier to get wrapped up in this kind of thought train when there's really no one around during the summer. When school hits, I don't even think twice about it. In fact, I enjoy the freedom that being single brings, because I don't think I'd be able to do the things I'm doing if I wasn't single. It kinda sucks to admit that, but I know it's true. Most of you know that I need a cowbell sometimes in order to find me on a weeknight (because I NEVER carry my cell phone. give me a break, it's prepaid). And with my plans to go into international medicine... how can I attach to anyone without letting go of my dream? In all seriousness, that situation is probably not as severe as it sounds. Still-- it makes me wonder how effective I would be either way.

The apostle Paul has a nice little presentation in Corinthians about this issue. I try to steer clear of that chapter (like just about everyone else at SAU), but I'm finding he raises some good points. To serve God, he points out, is a higher calling than any earthly relationship can replace. And to tie in with a recent morning devotion from the last chapter of John, my calling is to put my faith and love into practice, not just words. That sounds familiar. Oh, yes...

"Deeds without words." The family motto since my crusading ancestor, Johann Grosshans. (I kinda laughed when I found this out, since it was close to what I had decided to live by, anyway.)

From time to time during my growing up, I would seriously ponder this thought of God's will for my relationships. I would constantly remind myself that if it must be, I'll remain single (gulp). Upon the mention of this, my friends would be friends; and they would interject that I was "James Grant", and that this somehow meant that I was bound to be bound someday. And I refused to believe it. After all, it was the truth that I loved so dearly (see My Steadfast Lover) that I valued greater than their opinions.

After thinking about all of this, I compare this summer to last summer. If you didn't read my blogs from last summer, then let me bring you up to speed-- it was the worst summer of my life. I did a lot of growing, at the expense of my heart nearly turning to cold ice. In total contrast, this has been one of the best summers of my life: and the ever-bold optimist in my soul screams, "Be grateful, will you?"

I recently bore witness to a friend of mine done wrong in a relationship; in a horrible, despicable way. I don't think that anyone saw it coming, especially not me. I never wanted to say this, but maybe it pays for me to be single. For now, in the fog.

"Christian."

2008-07-31T22:54:00.003-04:00

It pains me to admit this, but I will flip through my friends' Facebook profiles when I'm bored. Okay, it had better pain you, as well, because you know you do it, too. Anyway, I was particularly interested by all the different descriptions next to the "Religious Views" line.

There are so many different ways to describe a relationship with the Trinity, and I find it fascinating.

So, naturally, I start to think: where's mine? How come I don't have a sweet, resounding, specifically-descriptive phrase to put on my profile? Thinking about this further made me change my mind. After reading the book The Great Omission by Dallas Willard (incredible book, I will let you borrow it if you want), I've put a lot of emphasis on myself to be covered in the dust of Christ, as Rob Bell puts it-- to desire to become a perfect copy of him so much that I end up right up on him wherever he goes. After all, this is what his disciples did. And what dirty feet they had!

So is that my phrase? "Disciple of Christ"?

No. It's not good enough for me. Of course, I admit my faults... I'm going to be the last one to admit that I'm perfect. But I do not desire to be a mere disciple... I want to be like my rabbi! That's the goal! But I can never be him, right? Hmmm... that makes me... a lesser version of Jesus Christ. A more human facsimile of the Son of God. A little Christ. Oh-- wait.

"Christian."

That'll do.

Mercy of the Father

2008-07-30T23:15:00.002-04:00

Humbly, I seek you, Lord
God, reveal yourself to me
Beauty that cuts chains

Raise me as I'm crushed
Lift my head when I bow down
Call me beloved

Name me as your son
Slave no longer shall I be
My rest is in you

...and out come the fleas

2008-07-30T16:22:00.004-04:00

If you caught the punk rock reference in the title, I will give you a hug.

I'm still scratching my head about this, even eight hours after our crew discovered fleas in apartment E. Yep. They were every-stinkin-where.

Back story-- About three weeks to a month ago, we were sent to paint one of the apartments in this building, but called away when the neighboring apartment in that building was found to have fleas. This room was then bug-bombed with extreme prejudice. We don't know where they came from. Speculation afterwards led our crew to believe that whoever lived in the apartment was a total slob, seeing as pets are not allowed in these buildings.

So, after three weeks to a month, they're still in there. And what's worse: they've spread their blight. Tiny, irritating little jump-aholics... getting all over my legs. It was like a very anti-climactic nightmare. At least it was only Chase, Travis, and I in the room with the fleas. So, after about fifteen or twenty minutes of brushing off the little blighters and sulking about the rampant pest infestation, the three of us walked (you didn't think they'd let us ride in the van, did you?) back to the village. We then bagged up our clothes and took showers... long showers.

I can't afford to burn these clothes. A curse upon you, whoever brought this menace to our feet (and ankles, and sort of calves)! A curse of irritating red dots all over your skin!

My Steadfast Lover

2008-07-25T10:48:00.002-04:00

The loudest noise, the faintest whisper
are your eager tools of seduction
For so long, I replaced you with words
And worshiped only my induction

I heard about your face
and the gift of a fearless heart

Solemnly, I dare to approach
You dare me come closer
Once again, of you I boast
My only steadfast lover

I am encased in your beauty
Trembling hands are soaked with admiration

Unfailing love, so sweet upon my lips
The brilliant light of a new day
What I can be, you remind me of this
The face of God in a jar of clay

I swear to you, I will see your face
My heart will feel no fear

[Psalm 27]

Crap.

2008-07-22T22:57:00.003-04:00

I'm sure you already heard the sirens blaring about a complain-a-blog coming. And of course, it's phlebotomy. During the examination of venipuncture technique on me (a reluctant volunteer), my classmate accidentally slips the needle out with the vacuum tube engaged, and then...
... accidentally stuck the needle back in the vein about a quarter inch distal. Distal = further away from the shoulder. Med terminology lesson for the day, eh? But anyway, that freakin' hurt! Instead of a normal puncture hole, I got a pretty decent scratch: plus the bonus hole. I'm a lucky dude.

Oh, and in case you were wondering... yes. Blood everywhere.

Spitefully, as always, I got a perfect score on my evac tube draw. Money.

Hooray for church!

2008-07-20T12:39:00.001-04:00

The sign of the covenant of marriage.

Whoooooaoaoaoaoa. *mind is blown*.

The Test

2008-07-16T22:50:00.003-04:00

First of all, I should thank Mr. Donald Brooks as prime inspiration for the way I wrote this... I love the way he writes, and I envy him. And the Apostle James; he was pretty heavy on this, too.

It was yet midnight as I stared at the mirror,
knowing not what I stared at;
I soon realized that its eyes were unfamiliar.
My reflection was glaring back.

"Who are you?" I cried-- "and what is your name?
Oh God, how can this be?"
It replied, "be assured, this is not a game--
I am Inevitability."

"Dreadful," I sighed, "you are the first I fear,
the last that I suspect."
An onerous, watchful, and savage peer
ensures my fate correct.

Inevitability opened a tiny hatch,
just above Its "waist:"
and to it proceeded a peculiar, homespun batch
of things I've been taught to hate.

The head of Rage emerged from the dark behind It:
an eye of envy, and one of pride,
scaled and vicious, I feared its fangs, rescinded.
Loved ones knew only its bite.

My stomach turned at the sight of the translucent face of Fear--
evil stitches its vision controlled!
It jumped, shuddered, scurried away from Rage when it came near,
whose countenance it did not know.

The last of these was Vanity, so lovely and handsome
with the first warm kiss of an eye.
I wept sorrowfully upon my examination;
the face as hollow as mine.

I sobbed, "OK, all right! They are not new enemies.
Now explain the hatch to me!"

Its eyes glowed bright as Rage's tongue hissed,
my heart sank to the floor.
It grabbed my wrist, and told me this:
"I'll show you what this is for!"

At once, the three began to squeeze through the tiny hole,
which the opening forbode.
My tears fueled them as red-hot coals;
I felt my veins explode.

My soul opened up, my nerves were aflame--
my legs betrayed me to the ground!
I cried out, hopeless, as waves of torment overcame
my whole body, every pound.

"Their wrath is great, but you know that such is the price
for a disciple wishing to grow.
You make great claims, and even that you follow Christ!
Do you walk in love, or no?"

"I do! Truly! I believe every word I say!"
I screamed, as I rose to my feet.
I looked and searched, but all in vain.
Inevitablity ceased to be.

Blog links

2008-07-16T10:20:00.003-04:00

Time for some plugs.

To your left, here, you will see some interestingly named blogs that I link to. I find them fascinating, so maybe you should check them out.

First of all, WTF? Nature is an old livejournal community to which I am subscribed. People are free to post animal (and sometimes human) pictures of a "WTF?" nature. It's pretty wicked. If you look on there now, there's a post about the velvet worm, which hunts down prey by shooting a sticky, quick-hardening goo at it-- yes, just like Spiderman. Also, kinkajous.

Second is Garfield Minus Garfield, which is a morbidly funny comic with an innovative premise. From the blog: "Who would have guessed that when you remove Garfield from the Garfield comic strips, the result is an even better comic about schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, and the empty desperation of modern life? Friends, meet Jon Arbuckle. Let’s laugh and learn with him on a journey deep into the tortured mind of an isolated young everyman as he fights a losing battle against loneliness in a quiet American suburb." Hilarious.

Finally, my newest link is to Matty G's Pop Culture 101. This is my friend Matt's take on pop culture, obviously. He's definitely got information I don't have about all sorts of movies, music, and the like to keep me busy reading for a while.

There's my plugs. Check em out.

Scare tactics.

2008-07-14T13:13:00.001-04:00

This is acute necrotizing ulcerative gingivitis (ANUG), better known as trench mouth.

BRUSH YO TEETH.

Coincedence?

2008-07-11T12:47:00.002-04:00

I find it ironic that my Calvin shirt chokes the crap out of me every time I have to deal with it.

That's all.

Celebration of viability

2008-07-10T23:13:00.004-04:00

I'm recording the events of the day right now, so that I do not forget any details. Hopefully, I'll be up for work tomorrow.

So, the day started off with a "Happy Birthday!" sign in my mirror over a bottle of Gatorade. Oh, suitemate. In his honor, I continued to say, "i haz a bloo" when I held up my Gatorade each time today. Work was pretty cool-- we started painting a house with the wrong type of paint. It was wicked. Then, I suggested that the rest of my crew was unfit to live in the Jackson area for so long without ever tasting the donuts of Hinkley's Bakery... which led to Matt (manager) suggesting that the entire crew goes to the bakery for morning break. Glorious.

After work, I find my wallet to be missing. I freaked out a bit, especially since I was out of food and needed to shop. I bought two cans of Spartan soup (poor decision) and some pop tarts with the cash I had on me. When I returned, I drove to the physical plant to check the van. No wallet. Maybe in the house we were painting-- money.

I had a bunch of friends over to watch Hot Fuzz (one of my favorite comedies) in my room for the first movie night since I left for Montana. Never gets old. I think this was the very first time I ever totally packed out my room for a movie this summer. The movie was even interrupted by my parents calling and singing Happy Birthday to me over the speakerphone... which was unfortunately with spotty reception.

Carrie got me these cupcakes of indescribable awesomosity. I'll keep it simple, so that you may understand. Twelve cupcakes. Red icing.

NOM
NOM
NOM
NOM

Indeed, they were nomcakes. I am a pretty happy guy.

Then, I took four of my friends (Shane, Stephanie, Travis, and Hamm) out to Applebee's on a $30 gift card my mom gave me. I figured this would not be a problem with half-off appetizers. When inquiring on the availability of said appetizers, the waitress replied, "Yes, those are on." Upon receiving three samplers, we discover, by courtesy of our snippy attendant, "Oh, by the way, those aren't half-off." This was not a big deal, seeing as it wasn't that much over $30 anyway. But it gets better. Much to my dismay, my "friends" indicate that it was my birthday. Of course, this means that I get to be embarrassed and sung to, and collect on free dessert. However, the ever-snooty waitress responded to Stephanie in this manner: "Oh, there are only two of us tonight. I don't think we'll be able to do it." Depression abounded. This depression transfigured into anger as a flock of ten waiters and waitresses gathered around another customer to sing their Applebee's happy birthday chant. We left shortly after this, though we had a ton of laughs and interesting conversation anyway.

On the way home, as Applebee's was destroyed by fire and sulfur, I notice red and blue flashing lights in my mirror. At the on-ramp of M-60, I pull over for the fuzz. I provide my license and insurance as I dig around in the glovebox for my registration, silently praying to God that the officer does not spot the full box of .22 caliber ammunition in my glovebox. Success. I provide the registration as he asks about my donor sticker on the license and the age of everyone in the car, then leaves to his car. He returns with my things, and asks me to have a good night. Done and done, sir.

Good night, indeed.

Value

2008-07-09T22:06:00.003-04:00

This is what I think about when I stare at a white wall for several hours.

Randomly, my mind turned to a topic that we discussed in history of civ last year: the Force Publique in the Congo. These were all white, Belgian soldiers and mercenaries in a colonial army; inevitably, they used nasty methods to ensure that the peace was maintained. The most appalling aspect of this, I thought, was the "right hand policy." To ensure that money was not wasted on ammunition, soldiers of the Force Publique were required to provide a right hand for every bullet fired.

I'm sure you can see where this went.

Anyway, I started to think how this atrocious concept could be applied to viewing today's new concepts of international occupation and ethnocentrism. Piecing together what I'd come up with about our occupying forces in Iraq and Afghanistan, I came up with this simple logic, which justifies our presence there:

We are Americans. We become angry and sad when other people kill Americans, and rightfully so (I'm talking about 9/11). This has led us to kill others in their countries, so that they may not kill Americans in America.

Such is the motivation for the War on Terror. I have been a supporter of this war since it began, but not anymore. I'm sure you're wondering how the right hand policy of the Force Publique fits into this, and I'm getting there. Right now--

The underlying sociological premise upon which the right hand policy was built was this: the Congolese are not equal in value as Belgian colonists. Looking back, can't we see that this is remarkably far from the truth? I've never met a person from the Congo, but I'm sure that I would find the value of that person equal to someone from Belgium, and my government would probably agree. So, if that is true, then how does the War on Terror follow?

How does trading ten Iraqi lives for mine follow?

As Christians, this should be even more obvious to us, but it seems that this is not the case. In fact, we were, as the American church on the whole, more susceptible to vengeful ideas and vigilante politics; a crowd of hurt lovers, wishing to take the hurt back to those who sought to kill us in the form of an again-romanticized crusade. It is now appearing to me that swords do not mend wounds, they only cause more.

There must be another way. Indeed, we should be more inclined to lay our lives down for our enemies than wish their destruction! In Jesus' name, we must seek peace-- this would be His glory.

The rundown

2008-07-08T10:19:00.002-04:00

All right, I had to do this too. I was a little bit surprised by my results, but the questions were a little miffed and generalized. It's hard to put my political ideology into the terms they gave me. =P

Your Results:

	1.	Theoretical Ideal Candidate (100%)
	2.	Barack Obama (72%) Information link
	3.	Ron Paul (concedes nomination not possible) (68%) Information link
	4.	Kent McManigal (campaign suspended) (67%) Information link
	5.	Bob Barr (65%) Information link
	6.	Bill Richardson (withdrawn, endorsed Obama) (63%) Information link
	7.	Christopher Dodd (endorsed Obama) (61%) Information link
	8.	Hillary Clinton (defeated [BYAH!], endorsed Obama) (60%) Information link
	9.	Dennis Kucinich (withdrawn) (59%) Information link
	10.	Wayne Allyn Root (is now Bob Barr's running mate) (58%) Information link
	11.	Ralph Nader (56%) Information link
	12.	Joseph Biden (withdrawn) (56%) Information link
	13.	Wesley Clark (not running, endorsed Clinton) (56%) Information link
	14.	John Edwards (withdrawn) (54%) Information link
	15.	Alan Keyes (withdrawn) (54%) Information link
	16.	Mike Gravel (withdrawn) (54%) Information link
	17.	Al Gore (not announced) (53%) Information link
	18.	Alan Augustson (campaign suspended) (53%) Information link
	19.	Chuck Hagel (not running) (50%) Information link
	20.	Michael Bloomberg (says he will not run) (50%) Information link
	21.	John McCain (47%) Information link
	22.	Newt Gingrich (says he will not run) (47%) Information link
	23.	Tom Tancredo (withdrawn, endorsed Romney) (41%) Information link
	24.	Mitt Romney (withdrawn, endorsed McCain) (40%) Information link
	25.	Rudolph Giuliani (withdrawn, endorsed McCain) (39%) Information link
	26.	Duncan Hunter (withdrawn, endorsed Huckabee) (38%) Information link
	27.	Sam Brownback (withdrawn, endorsed McCain) (36%) Information link
	28.	Mike Huckabee (withdrawn) (33%) Information link
	29.	Elaine Brown (withdrawn) (32%) Information link
	30.	Fred Thompson (withdrawn, also the scariest man alive) (31%) Information link
	31.	Jim Gilmore (withdrawn) (30%) Information link
	32.	Stephen Colbert (campaign halted) (28%) Information link
	33.	Tommy Thompson (withdrawn, endorsed Giuliani) (24%) Information link

Make me one with the music

2008-07-07T20:58:00.005-04:00

Someone once asked me, "If you were to get an mp3 player, what would you want on it?" I replied, "Just make me one with music." So, I got a Zen. This is what it looks like.

Corny. Well, technically, it's a "Zen Stone Plus", because it doesn't have a f'real screen or anything like that. But it's real nice. Allow me to elaborate.

First of all, 2 GB of space. This allows me more than enough songs to which I may rock/dance/air guitar/ embarrass myself entirely. On shuffle, it can go from "Du Hast" to "The Rockafeller Skank", and that is strictly quite awesome. And it's so little! I would never have expected this tiny little thing to hold so much music, but it do. This moves me to my next point.

This thing is about the third the size of my cell phone. As I'm working, I don't have to worry about it being in the way, or becoming uncomfortable, or feeling bulky. It's just there. Heck, I forget it's there most of the time. But there's one thing that always reminds me of its presence...

That'd be the built-in speaker. And it's not really a crappy speaker, either. Being built by Creative, it pretty much has everything that I would be looking for. So, when I feel the rockitude reaching critical mass, I just switch on the speaker and continue to rock. It's a beautiful thing.

By the way, that switch is just a simple press of a button. Everything on this beast is simple. I don't have to bother with lame iTunes or Windows Media Player (sorry guys), it comes with some software. And it's easy, too. Just select the songs you want, and poof. They're in. You can even put them in folders to organize them (into, say, "running", or "painting", or even, "rocking"), and select playlists.

All you iPodders don't know what you've missed out on. =P

Finally-- I made this post because Brian asked me to do so. Brian is the stuff, for real. You should check out his blog (and new haircut) if you haven't already...

<--- over there.

I've got a river of life flowing out of me

2008-07-01T22:47:00.005-04:00

Well, I did. Funny story:

At phlebotomy class tonight, we all did our usual rounds poking each other with needles. Much to my dismay, I seem to be the only Y chromosome left in the bunch-- which means veins are gonna be harder to find on the whole. Tonight, we were instructed on how to use winged infusion sets. See?

They're a smaller needle diameter, and they're supposed to be easier to use. Must be why it took me three times to get it right... whatever. It looks really cool when the tube fills up, and turns all red and such. So, our hands are all poked to bits with these things, and we go back to regular arm venipuncture. This is what I'm good at. I've never missed. I tell one of my classmates that if she lets me poke her, I will let her poke me. She agrees, and goes first.

Let me be the first to tell you that one could probably see my veins from twenty feet away. That was not the problem, and let me first applaud her for being the first of my classmates to strike oil on me (after six previous dry attempts by others). While reaching for a new cotton swab to plug my arm, she releases the multisample device... and the needle. I watch, in oh-dang-that-car-is-about-to-break-my-legs-slow-motion, as the needle slowly succumbs to the inescapable persuasion of Earth's gravity and falls out of my arm. This would not have been a big deal, had the vacuum tube drawing my blood not been engaged: just as luck would have it, the tube was engaged. The powerful sucking force of the vacuum pulls venous blood out of my arm like this:

Just, you know, red. Without a doubt, one of the weirdest things that's ever happened to me. After the mess was taken care of, and she apologized profusely, I go ahead and poke her...

Money in the bank. Maybe I should go pro.