[Remember, we're still taking Slackie nominations--but time's running out!]
Another year draws to a close. Here's what we here at PBB have been reading. Listed below are the date the book was finished, name, author, and length. After that, some analysis and the top-five recommended titles. Here we go.
===
January 9--Mere Christianity, by C. S. Lewis (227)
January 18--She's Come Undone, by Wally Lamb (465)
January 25--About a Boy, by Nick Hornby (306)
February 13--Everything is Illuminated, by Jonathon Safran Foer (276)
February 18--Blue Like Jazz, by Donald Miller (242)
February 21--Falling in Love for All the Right Reasons, by Dr. N.C. Warren (232)
March 11--Motherless Brooklyn, by Jonathon Lethem (311)
March 20--A Grief Observed, by C.S. Lewis (151)
March 29--Neuromancer, by William Gibson (271)
April 22--A Prayer for Owen Meany, by John Irving (616)
April 28--Still Life with Woodpecker, by Tom Robbins (277)
May 5--Sixpence House, by Paul Collins (216)
May 19--Monster, by Frank Peretti (429)
May 24--A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, by Douglas Adams (216)
June 19--The Friendly Dickens, by Norrie Epstein (405)
July 2--Gilead, by Marilynne Robinson (247)
July 12--The Chronicles of Narnia, by C.S. Lewis (767)
July 28--What's So Amazing about Grace, by Phillip Yancey (288)
July 30--Cubs Nation, by Gene Wojciechowski (417)
September 8--Get a Date Worth Keeping, by Dr. Henry Cloud (235)
September 12--The Moviegoer, by Walter Perry (243)
September 23--The Jesus I Never Knew, by Phillip Yancey (275)
September 28--Searching for God Knows What, by Don Miller (239)
November 5--When God Writes your Love Story, by Eric Ludy (250)
November 17--The Brothers Karamazov, by Fyodor Dostoevsky (936)
November 23--Bird by Bird, by Anne Lamott (237)
[unfinished--Anointed to be God's Servants, by Henry Blackaby (about 100)]
December 7--Passion and Purity, by Elizabeth Elliot (188)
December 14--Boy Meets Girl, by Josh Harris (228)
[Currently reading (but not counting): Disciplines of a Godly Man, by Kent Hughes; and Cash, by Johnny Cash. So far, i'm a combined 350-400 pages in those.]
Total Books Finished: 28 (same as last year)
Total Pages of completed books for 2005: 9432 (not counting unfinished books). That's about a thousand less than last year. Like I said then, you gotta make time. Or read longer books.
Average Length: 337 pages
Average Length Not Counting "Karamazov" or "Narnia": 297
Most Read Author: C. S. Lewis. Even if you count the Chronicles as a single book (which I did), I have three of his. Runners-up: Don Miller and Phillip Yancey, each with two.
Most Popular Topic: Dating, apparently. I didn't realize exactly how many such books I read (5). Well, hopefully, I'm better informed, better prepared, and more circumspect. (That sounds so much better than "desperate," doesn't it!)
Most Disappointing Read: "She's Come Undone." Not only was it not a particularly great book, but it was just dreary and depressing. The protagonist was tiresome, and I kept waiting for her to "snap out of it" as Cher would say--but she never did. Why anyone recommends this book, I'll never know. So yeah, thanks, boss. Good call--jerk.
Most Unexpectedly Enjoyable Read: "Sixpence House" and "The Friendly Dickens" were both a lot more enjoyable than I expected, but the winner here is "Motherless Brooklyn." Just an excellent novel. Well-written, well-characterized, fast-paced, and interesting. You really get a sense of the frustration the protagonist has, living with Tourette's. Great crime story (not even a genre I usually enjoy, either).
Top Five Recommendations from the 2005 PBB Reading List:
5) Motherless Brooklyn, by Jonathon Lethem
For all the reason stated above. It's just a well-executed novel.
4) The Brothers Karamazov, by Fyodor Dostoevsky
Such a beautiful, rich, full story about law and grace, about the human heart, about love and jealousy and revenge. Alexi/Alyosha is my hero, in many ways, though I often can relate more to Mitya. Wonderful novel.
3) A Prayer for Owen Meany, by John Irving
A gorgeous, gut-wrenching, funny story. The ending of the book made me choke up a little. Such a great story.
2) Gilead, by Marilynne Robinson
Deserving of every honor and prize it's awarded, including the Pulitzer it rightly received. An wonderful story, it's the diary of an aging midwestern minister, recounting his life to the seven-year-old son who will surely lose his father before he becomes an adult. This book is full of hope and faith and sadness. Short, but so powerful.
1) Anything by C.S. Lewis
The Chronicles of Narnia, Mere Christianity, The Screwtape Letters--it seems like everything he wrote was just awesome. Find his work and read it.
===
That's all I got. Have a great New Year's celebration. Be safe. If you partake in adult beverages, don't drive afterward. Peace and grace to you all.
Friday, December 30, 2005
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Soundtrack to 2005: "Out of the Desert and Into the Sun"
Here we go. Songs that I've loved, songs that have meaning. Stuff I dug this year.
===
"Chelsea" by Counting Crows
I never had light in my eyes anyway/Maybe things are different these days...
My favorite song from "Across a Wire." I love the beginning, the horns. The song is sad and tired and resigned. The way I feel sometimes.
"Sitting, Waiting, Wishing" by Jack Johnson
I can't always be playing, playing your fool...
I like Jack Johnson a lot, and this single from "In Between Dreams" is a catchy tune. I also like the second verse: "I sang your songs, I danced your dance/I gave your friends all a chance/Putting up with them wasn't worth never having you." Awesome. The words of a man who wants to know where he stands.
"Landed" by Ben Folds
I've been on some other planet/Come pick me up, I've landed...
Ben's second solo album was kind of a mixed bag for me, for reasons I've already mentioned. But I loved this single from the moment I heard it. And the story of a man coming out of the fog of a bad relationship is one I can appreciate. Great tune, great lyrics, and like the best of Ben's work, it makes me mash my fingers on my desk in mock-piano playing during the chorus.
"Last Episode Heartache" by Me
And the same dark fate that pulled at Luke now pulls his dad, and it draws him in/Last Episode Heartache...
I was rather proud of this parody, so I'm including it here. I think it's almost as good as my "fake emo song" from last year.
"I Will Not Take These Things For Granted" by Toad the Wet Sprocket
And if I'm lonely here, I'm lonely here/On the telephone, you offer reassurance...
I'm pretty sure I bought TTWS's "Fear" album this year. Though "Walk on the Ocean" and "All I Want" are my favorite tracks, this one has become more meaningful to me. There are so many things in life that we let pass by unnoticed because we are so busy wanting something we can't or shouldn't have. It's such a waste. We need to be more grateful for the simple joy of being alive.
"By My Side" by INXS
In the dark of night, those faces they haunt me/And I wish you were so close to me...
I admit it freely: the clever idea worked. Thanks to the TV show "Rockstar:INXS," I became a fan of their music. This song is my favorite (followed by "Mystify" and "Never Tear Us Apart"). And I still think Marty Casey was ROBBED.
"A Million Pieces" by Newsboys
Why you holdin' grudges in old jars? Why you wanna show off all your scars?
This song is so reassuring for me. Whenever I feel myself get burdened by stuff in my life, whenever I get distressed, it's likely that at some point, I'll put this song on, close my eyes, and just breathe in and out. Such a relief in this truth. Just lay the burden down.
"Undefeated" by Audio Adrenaline
Like a band of gypsies we go rollin down the highway...
The whole album, "Until My Heart Caves In," is just great. But this song is my favorite from it.
"On Your Porch" by The Format
what's left to lose, you've done enough/and if you fail well then you fail but not to us...
I've mentioned this one recently. It means a lot to me for a lot of reasons, the most important of which is, it's a sad-sounding song about hope. That alone, I can relate to. I sound sad often, but I'm more hopeful than I let on.
"It'll All Work Out" by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
It'll all work out eventually/Better off with him than here with me
One of so many great songs on the "Elizabethtown" soundtrack. Great Tom Petty track.
"Hard Times" by eastmountainsouth
Let us pause in life's pleasures and count its many tears/while we all sup sorrow with the poor...
Another beautiful track from the soundtrack. I find that my musical tastes are shifting this way. Very old-timey.
"Jackson" by Johnny and June Cash
We got married in a fever/hotter than a pepper sprout...
I love the interplay between Johnny and June in this song. There's so much joy here. And it's a fun, bouncy tune. I fell in love with Cash's music this year.
"Hell Yes" by Beck
Now i'm cleaning the floor/my beat is correct
Another fun song. I love that it's Christina Ricci in the background saying "please enjoy." Hopefully, Beck's alleged Scientology interests won't funk up his music, cuz i'm diggin this.
"Colorful" by The Verve Pipe
You are more beautiful when you awake/Than most are in a lifetime
This song is from the "Rock Star" soundtrack (yes, the film with Mark Wahlberg). It's from the end of the movie when he cut his hair and started playing early-90's singer-songwriter rock at coffee houses. I know, it's cheesy and goofy, but I like the song. So there.
"Square One" by Coldplay
From the start in your own way, you just want/Somebody listening to what you say
I know, I know. Try to stifle your Coldplay-gag-reflex. The whole album is gobbledy-goop lyrically, but every once in a while, Chris Martin strings together a few lines that make sense. One such instance is the line quoted above. My favorite song on a halfway decent album.
"Chicago" by Sufjan Stevens
you came to take us (all things go, all things go)/to recreate us (all things grow, all things grow)
How was I not on the Sufjan wagon sooner? Why didn't I listen to you people? "Illinoise" is a great album, and this song is one of my favorites from it. When I first heard the song online, I was convinced about halfway through that I needed to buy the album as soon as possible. Money well spent. Looking forward to the other 48 states.
"Mushaboom" by Feist
And we'll collect the moments one by one/I guess that's how the future's done
I defy you to not like this song. DEFY. It will get stuck in your head, and you'll spend the rest of the day bopping around to it's beat. You'll even catch yourself saying "mushaboom, mushaboom" under your breath. No, I don't know what it means either, and I don't care. I love her voice.
"Change" by Tracy Chapman
If you knew that you would die today/If you saw the face of God and love/Would you change?
I heard this song several months ago, and it stuck with me. Tracy Chapman is one of those artists that never seems to really be wildly popular, but her material is always good. I loved "Fast Car," I really liked "Gimme One Reason," and I really like "Change."
===
"Chelsea" by Counting Crows
I never had light in my eyes anyway/Maybe things are different these days...
My favorite song from "Across a Wire." I love the beginning, the horns. The song is sad and tired and resigned. The way I feel sometimes.
"Sitting, Waiting, Wishing" by Jack Johnson
I can't always be playing, playing your fool...
I like Jack Johnson a lot, and this single from "In Between Dreams" is a catchy tune. I also like the second verse: "I sang your songs, I danced your dance/I gave your friends all a chance/Putting up with them wasn't worth never having you." Awesome. The words of a man who wants to know where he stands.
"Landed" by Ben Folds
I've been on some other planet/Come pick me up, I've landed...
Ben's second solo album was kind of a mixed bag for me, for reasons I've already mentioned. But I loved this single from the moment I heard it. And the story of a man coming out of the fog of a bad relationship is one I can appreciate. Great tune, great lyrics, and like the best of Ben's work, it makes me mash my fingers on my desk in mock-piano playing during the chorus.
"Last Episode Heartache" by Me
And the same dark fate that pulled at Luke now pulls his dad, and it draws him in/Last Episode Heartache...
I was rather proud of this parody, so I'm including it here. I think it's almost as good as my "fake emo song" from last year.
"I Will Not Take These Things For Granted" by Toad the Wet Sprocket
And if I'm lonely here, I'm lonely here/On the telephone, you offer reassurance...
I'm pretty sure I bought TTWS's "Fear" album this year. Though "Walk on the Ocean" and "All I Want" are my favorite tracks, this one has become more meaningful to me. There are so many things in life that we let pass by unnoticed because we are so busy wanting something we can't or shouldn't have. It's such a waste. We need to be more grateful for the simple joy of being alive.
"By My Side" by INXS
In the dark of night, those faces they haunt me/And I wish you were so close to me...
I admit it freely: the clever idea worked. Thanks to the TV show "Rockstar:INXS," I became a fan of their music. This song is my favorite (followed by "Mystify" and "Never Tear Us Apart"). And I still think Marty Casey was ROBBED.
"A Million Pieces" by Newsboys
Why you holdin' grudges in old jars? Why you wanna show off all your scars?
This song is so reassuring for me. Whenever I feel myself get burdened by stuff in my life, whenever I get distressed, it's likely that at some point, I'll put this song on, close my eyes, and just breathe in and out. Such a relief in this truth. Just lay the burden down.
"Undefeated" by Audio Adrenaline
Like a band of gypsies we go rollin down the highway...
The whole album, "Until My Heart Caves In," is just great. But this song is my favorite from it.
"On Your Porch" by The Format
what's left to lose, you've done enough/and if you fail well then you fail but not to us...
I've mentioned this one recently. It means a lot to me for a lot of reasons, the most important of which is, it's a sad-sounding song about hope. That alone, I can relate to. I sound sad often, but I'm more hopeful than I let on.
"It'll All Work Out" by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
It'll all work out eventually/Better off with him than here with me
One of so many great songs on the "Elizabethtown" soundtrack. Great Tom Petty track.
"Hard Times" by eastmountainsouth
Let us pause in life's pleasures and count its many tears/while we all sup sorrow with the poor...
Another beautiful track from the soundtrack. I find that my musical tastes are shifting this way. Very old-timey.
"Jackson" by Johnny and June Cash
We got married in a fever/hotter than a pepper sprout...
I love the interplay between Johnny and June in this song. There's so much joy here. And it's a fun, bouncy tune. I fell in love with Cash's music this year.
"Hell Yes" by Beck
Now i'm cleaning the floor/my beat is correct
Another fun song. I love that it's Christina Ricci in the background saying "please enjoy." Hopefully, Beck's alleged Scientology interests won't funk up his music, cuz i'm diggin this.
"Colorful" by The Verve Pipe
You are more beautiful when you awake/Than most are in a lifetime
This song is from the "Rock Star" soundtrack (yes, the film with Mark Wahlberg). It's from the end of the movie when he cut his hair and started playing early-90's singer-songwriter rock at coffee houses. I know, it's cheesy and goofy, but I like the song. So there.
"Square One" by Coldplay
From the start in your own way, you just want/Somebody listening to what you say
I know, I know. Try to stifle your Coldplay-gag-reflex. The whole album is gobbledy-goop lyrically, but every once in a while, Chris Martin strings together a few lines that make sense. One such instance is the line quoted above. My favorite song on a halfway decent album.
"Chicago" by Sufjan Stevens
you came to take us (all things go, all things go)/to recreate us (all things grow, all things grow)
How was I not on the Sufjan wagon sooner? Why didn't I listen to you people? "Illinoise" is a great album, and this song is one of my favorites from it. When I first heard the song online, I was convinced about halfway through that I needed to buy the album as soon as possible. Money well spent. Looking forward to the other 48 states.
"Mushaboom" by Feist
And we'll collect the moments one by one/I guess that's how the future's done
I defy you to not like this song. DEFY. It will get stuck in your head, and you'll spend the rest of the day bopping around to it's beat. You'll even catch yourself saying "mushaboom, mushaboom" under your breath. No, I don't know what it means either, and I don't care. I love her voice.
"Change" by Tracy Chapman
If you knew that you would die today/If you saw the face of God and love/Would you change?
I heard this song several months ago, and it stuck with me. Tracy Chapman is one of those artists that never seems to really be wildly popular, but her material is always good. I loved "Fast Car," I really liked "Gimme One Reason," and I really like "Change."
Slackie Nominations are Open
Here are the Categories thusfar:
Nominations will be accepted until 11:59 p.m. on January 1. Feel free to give several per category. Ballot will be compiled and posted by next Tuesday.
Drop your noms and any more category ideas in the comments.
- Movie of the Year
- Album of the Year
- Book of the Year
- TV Show of the Year (returning)
- TV Show of the Year (new)
- Worst Movie Remake of the Year
- Underrated Artistic Endeavour of the Year (any medium)
- Overrated Artistic Endeavour of the Year (any medium)
- News Event of the Year (serious)
- News Event of the Year (ludicrous)
- Sports Story/Athlete of the Year
- Government Screw-up of the Year
- Ice Cream Topping of the Year
- Beverage of the Year (adult)
- Beverage of the Year (non-adult)
- Board Game of the Year
- Burrito of the Year
- City of the Year (American)
- City of the Year (International)
- Post-It Color of the Year
- Buffoon of the Year (any arena)
- Bogus Celebrity of the Year (new)
- Bogus Celebrity of the Year (lingering)
- Blog of the Year
Nominations will be accepted until 11:59 p.m. on January 1. Feel free to give several per category. Ballot will be compiled and posted by next Tuesday.
Drop your noms and any more category ideas in the comments.
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
On Writing and Feedback
Be more personal, she says.
Okay. I can do that.
===
I just slogged through a friend's blogroll in the hopes of finding news of old college chums. That was a wasted twenty minutes.
When I websurf, there are some links that I have gone to so many times that it becomes habit. I'll think, "I've already looked at this," scroll down the list, and click the exact same link, out of habit. Sometimes I do this two or three times in a row.
There are other links I try very hard not to chase down. Some buttons require an act of will to avoid. It's better that way.
===
I'm writing again, a little. That's very exciting. To me.
I've read many times in many books that writing is a lonely business, and not for those who feed on feedback. I would chuckle, shake my head. It's true, though. Unlike blogging, "real" writing occurs in a silent, airless void, emotionally.
For one thing, I don't feel like I have the support of my loved ones. They have said they support me, of course. And I have no doubt of their love, of course. But I don't believe that they believe I will actually accomplish what I've set out to do.
My family is much too realistic to have faith in my writing abilities.
I showed my father a short story of mine once. This was in high school, back when my creative writing skills had yet to advance from "atrocious" to "mediocre" (a blessed transformation that occured sometime during college, between the late-written term papers and late-night makeout sessions). I handed my father the short story--very short, two pages--which he dutifully read, as I stood and watched.
At the end, he handed it back to me, brow furrowed. "That's kind of depressing, isn't it?" I shrugged. "I guess."
I went back to my room, a little ashamed. Of course it was depressing. It was a first-person, present-tense, sensory account of a first-century Christian martyr being led to the chopping block. The title itself said, "Martyr." Yes, "depressing" would be one way to describe it.
I don't think I've showed him anything I've written since.
I remember times in the last few years, when my dad has said, "Man, you need to get on that writing thing." But I think, in those times, that was really coming from more of a financial/vocational standpoint. He has had nothing but miserable jobs throughout his adult life, and his hope is that I find a job I'm happy with and can pay the bills doing. You could replace "writing" with "veterinary" or "accounting" and it would have meant the same. I don't think it's that he's convinced of my "talent," because he doesn't really read my stuff. He just supports me as his son. I'm very grateful for that.
I showed some poetry to my mother once. It had won "honorable mention" in a intramural contest at college and was published in a yearly collection. After reading it, she smiled, and said it was "nice."
Mom's not a reader. Not at all. She's a pragmatist. I guess expecting her to geek out about it is as fair as one of my computer-intensive friends showing me a new batch of code he'd just created. All I could say is, "nice," because it wouldn't mean as much to me as it would to them.
[I feel like I should be rewriting all this, showing my parents in a better light. They're incredible people, kind and caring and cool, and I would not trade them for anyone, anywhere, anytime. But it's like, they don't "get" this part of who I am. And I don't know how to explain it better than I am doing right now.]
My parents "believe in me" the way all well-enough-adjusted parents "believe" in their kids. They want the best for me, they believe that I believe, but they aren't convinced, I think. Not much more than the parent of a ten-year-old with a easel and brush who calls himself an "artist."
I'm pretty sure they would vehemently disagree, if they read this. Probably get upset that I characterized them so. (They're wonderful people, sweet and loving, I hope you believe me.) But over the years, their support of my creative work has always been abstracted. When I talked about wanting to write full-time in the future, they would nod their heads and say nothing. Then we'd talk about more practical things, like paying the bills.
I think their support has never shifted from "their son" to "their son's work." And that bugs me, because it makes it easier to second-guess myself.
===
That second-guessing occurs, despite the praise of my friends, too. I love you all dearly, and appreciate your kind words, but forgive me if I don't believe it fully. Even you faceless cyber-friends are not impartial. I think I'm waiting to receive some kind of praise from someone who doesn't especially like me. Maybe then, I'll believe it.
===
I don't know. The biggest struggle for me as a writer, outside of the time discipline, is believing that this is not a colossal waste of time. I'm a farmer who doesn't trust my own seed will bear fruit. This makes the hard months of planting and weeding and watering seem long and empty.
I read about some writers writing because they were "compelled" by some inner force to do so. I wouldn't describe myself as compelled. Frankly, it's easy for me to be distracted. There is always a TV show or movie or video game or book waiting to steal my free time and attention. Writing is work for me right now, work that I want to do, work that I'm trying to stay committed to doing. But work, nevertheless.
I don't write because I'm compelled by unseen creative forces. I write because I've committed to this dream I had years ago of being a writer. It was a dream I've had ever since my sixth grade teacher praised a silly page-long story I wrote about Russian spies, using our weekly vocabulary words. I've wanted to tell stories ever since. Despite various ideas and passing notions of what to do with my life, this love of story has remained.
To put it another way, I think for some writers, writing is a passionate love affair, burning hot and lively. For me, writing has become a longish marriage, of sorts. I excitedly fumbled around with it at the beginning, made mistakes, got distracted, and then, for a season, neglected it, not giving it the attention it deserved. Now, years later, I want to make it central to my life again, because of our history together, me and writing. And because I owe it my best effort. It's worth that much. And deep down, I still love it.
The last question, after all this time, is: Does it love me back?
Okay. I can do that.
===
I just slogged through a friend's blogroll in the hopes of finding news of old college chums. That was a wasted twenty minutes.
When I websurf, there are some links that I have gone to so many times that it becomes habit. I'll think, "I've already looked at this," scroll down the list, and click the exact same link, out of habit. Sometimes I do this two or three times in a row.
There are other links I try very hard not to chase down. Some buttons require an act of will to avoid. It's better that way.
===
I'm writing again, a little. That's very exciting. To me.
I've read many times in many books that writing is a lonely business, and not for those who feed on feedback. I would chuckle, shake my head. It's true, though. Unlike blogging, "real" writing occurs in a silent, airless void, emotionally.
For one thing, I don't feel like I have the support of my loved ones. They have said they support me, of course. And I have no doubt of their love, of course. But I don't believe that they believe I will actually accomplish what I've set out to do.
My family is much too realistic to have faith in my writing abilities.
I showed my father a short story of mine once. This was in high school, back when my creative writing skills had yet to advance from "atrocious" to "mediocre" (a blessed transformation that occured sometime during college, between the late-written term papers and late-night makeout sessions). I handed my father the short story--very short, two pages--which he dutifully read, as I stood and watched.
At the end, he handed it back to me, brow furrowed. "That's kind of depressing, isn't it?" I shrugged. "I guess."
I went back to my room, a little ashamed. Of course it was depressing. It was a first-person, present-tense, sensory account of a first-century Christian martyr being led to the chopping block. The title itself said, "Martyr." Yes, "depressing" would be one way to describe it.
I don't think I've showed him anything I've written since.
I remember times in the last few years, when my dad has said, "Man, you need to get on that writing thing." But I think, in those times, that was really coming from more of a financial/vocational standpoint. He has had nothing but miserable jobs throughout his adult life, and his hope is that I find a job I'm happy with and can pay the bills doing. You could replace "writing" with "veterinary" or "accounting" and it would have meant the same. I don't think it's that he's convinced of my "talent," because he doesn't really read my stuff. He just supports me as his son. I'm very grateful for that.
I showed some poetry to my mother once. It had won "honorable mention" in a intramural contest at college and was published in a yearly collection. After reading it, she smiled, and said it was "nice."
Mom's not a reader. Not at all. She's a pragmatist. I guess expecting her to geek out about it is as fair as one of my computer-intensive friends showing me a new batch of code he'd just created. All I could say is, "nice," because it wouldn't mean as much to me as it would to them.
[I feel like I should be rewriting all this, showing my parents in a better light. They're incredible people, kind and caring and cool, and I would not trade them for anyone, anywhere, anytime. But it's like, they don't "get" this part of who I am. And I don't know how to explain it better than I am doing right now.]
My parents "believe in me" the way all well-enough-adjusted parents "believe" in their kids. They want the best for me, they believe that I believe, but they aren't convinced, I think. Not much more than the parent of a ten-year-old with a easel and brush who calls himself an "artist."
I'm pretty sure they would vehemently disagree, if they read this. Probably get upset that I characterized them so. (They're wonderful people, sweet and loving, I hope you believe me.) But over the years, their support of my creative work has always been abstracted. When I talked about wanting to write full-time in the future, they would nod their heads and say nothing. Then we'd talk about more practical things, like paying the bills.
I think their support has never shifted from "their son" to "their son's work." And that bugs me, because it makes it easier to second-guess myself.
===
That second-guessing occurs, despite the praise of my friends, too. I love you all dearly, and appreciate your kind words, but forgive me if I don't believe it fully. Even you faceless cyber-friends are not impartial. I think I'm waiting to receive some kind of praise from someone who doesn't especially like me. Maybe then, I'll believe it.
===
I don't know. The biggest struggle for me as a writer, outside of the time discipline, is believing that this is not a colossal waste of time. I'm a farmer who doesn't trust my own seed will bear fruit. This makes the hard months of planting and weeding and watering seem long and empty.
I read about some writers writing because they were "compelled" by some inner force to do so. I wouldn't describe myself as compelled. Frankly, it's easy for me to be distracted. There is always a TV show or movie or video game or book waiting to steal my free time and attention. Writing is work for me right now, work that I want to do, work that I'm trying to stay committed to doing. But work, nevertheless.
I don't write because I'm compelled by unseen creative forces. I write because I've committed to this dream I had years ago of being a writer. It was a dream I've had ever since my sixth grade teacher praised a silly page-long story I wrote about Russian spies, using our weekly vocabulary words. I've wanted to tell stories ever since. Despite various ideas and passing notions of what to do with my life, this love of story has remained.
To put it another way, I think for some writers, writing is a passionate love affair, burning hot and lively. For me, writing has become a longish marriage, of sorts. I excitedly fumbled around with it at the beginning, made mistakes, got distracted, and then, for a season, neglected it, not giving it the attention it deserved. Now, years later, I want to make it central to my life again, because of our history together, me and writing. And because I owe it my best effort. It's worth that much. And deep down, I still love it.
The last question, after all this time, is: Does it love me back?
Prayer Request
For those of you who are so inclined:
I have a friend from church named Nick, whose mom is right now undergoing surgery to remove a mass from her abdomen. She will be on antibiotics for a while, and recovery may be tricky. Please keep her in prayer, for a safe surgery and speedy recovery. Please also lift up her family.
Thanks.
I have a friend from church named Nick, whose mom is right now undergoing surgery to remove a mass from her abdomen. She will be on antibiotics for a while, and recovery may be tricky. Please keep her in prayer, for a safe surgery and speedy recovery. Please also lift up her family.
Thanks.
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
Film Review: Syriana
[Maybe not a "review" in the traditional sense. I'll briefly address the plot (good luck, Dave) and then make some observations.]
First, the story: Hard to explain. The short version is that it is about the interplay between the oil and gas industry and the political structures and changes in the Middle East, and how the U.S.'s involvement in that process could effect both positive and negative change. However, to sum it up so succinctly (believe me, that really is the short version) loses so much in the translation. It's also about how outside perspectives can be false, and how actions have ripple effects. It's about a lot of things. It has been compared to Traffic, a brilliant film with the same writer (who directs this film). Stylistically, there certainly are similarities, in terms of how the story is presented. All in all, this is a movie that requires you to chew on it for some time afterward. But this extra effort is rewarding.
Now, my thoughts:
[Needless to say, consider the rest of this post to be under MAJOR SPOILER WARNING until the red text at the end.]
--I thought the acting was outstanding across the board. Really great performances, even by the few actors given card-board cut-out characters (poor Tim Blake Nelson). I was convinced that each of these characters (though, admittedly, some more than others) were real people, instead of characterizations. I enjoyed George Clooney's befuddled and increasingly desparate ex-CIA operative, especially when the walls started closing in around him. I loved Matt Damon's heartfelt portrayal of the energy analyst who invests himself in a dream of democracy that's cut short. I liked Jeffrey Wright's lawyer, who always seemed to evade me when I tried to pin down which 'side' he was really on. Good work on all accounts.
--I appreciated how deftly the filmmaker handled Damon's son's death. (I won't be able to remember character names often, so i'll use actors' names when needed. Just so you know.) The turning on of the lights. The shot of the broken bulb and exposed wiring. The kids by the pool, about to jump in. And then the lights flickering elsewhere. Really well-conceived series of shots. I don't know if that little light could create enough of a current through the water to electrocute the boy (at least enough for him to drown). But I bought it completely, as I sat there.
--There were only a few clear "villains" in this movie. TBN's oil tycoon is one. I'd classify the CIA guy who called for the airstrike as another. Maybe a few more of the oil people, but they were played as buffoons, rather than evil and conniving. Sadly, the jihadist suicide bombers were not played as clear villains either, though their "teacher" certainly was menacing to me, in that overly kind, spider-to-the-fly way.
--I'll agree with one reviewer that, in retrospect, I was a little uneasy with how benign the terrorist group Hezbollah was portrayed. As one blogger put it, remember that in terms of terrorist groups, they have killed the second-highest number of American citizens (after Al-Quaida). So for the leader of this group to be the "kindly old man" that Clooney goes to see, it didn't get through during the movie, but it bugged me afterward.
--The nail-pulling scene was just tough to sit through. Poor Bob. Dude turned his back on Bob like a cold-blooded gangsta.
--On a related note, I will say that they showed two different portrayals of "true believers," though the benign jihadists were more sympathetically portrayed than Bob's turncoat contact who announced he was going to "cut his head off." It was like the film couldn't decide if they were "bad" or not.
--There's a political undercurrent in this movie that's hard to pin down. Many conservatives have reacted to it negatively, saying it's anti-business and anti-Administration. I think this is a somewhat glaring overstatement, but I understand where it's coming from. Conservatives have been conditioned over the years (by the words and actions of both sides) to be distrustful of any piece of art that is overtly political, because overwhelmingly, it is anti-conservative.
However, this film goes beyond party lines a little bit, I think. Granted, it is steeped in the mistrust of the CIA that is most often found in the Left. But there's so much more to it than that. Clear and Present Danger had nefarious CIA operatives, but no one would call that a "liberal movie." Syriana has a lot to do with how we look at other governments, and how the choices we (as a foreign power) make can affect these other governments. It asks questions about whether our foreign policy choices are based more on the interest of our economy or democracy in general.
(Side-note: I would like to point out that, in this film, Big Oil was actually "opposed" to a democratic regime, and preferred a monarchy that was well in-pocket. The thing about sovereign democracies is, not only can the people elect whom they will, but they can do business with whom they will. So, if a Western leader wanted to wage a "war for oil" [hypothetically speaking, of course], would he or she want to install a sovereign constitutional democracy or a monarchy ruled by a crony? Hmm. Food for thought, that.)
--As I said, the film doesn't portray the suicide bomber in a negative light. In fact, he is almost a sympathetic character, though this isn't explicitly stated. I disagree with and reject this thought completely. However, his storyline brings up an interesting question. He was working for an oil company when a merger resulted in massive lay-offs, him included. Left with no job and no future, he was suckered into a cloistered cult-like group of jihadists who wore white and spoke of purity and devotion. In this group, he was given a sense of meaning. He was so desparate for honor and purpose that he was willing to do anything, and he did just that. So the question that his story raises is: shouldn't we consider more carefully the repercussions of our actions? The "evil" corporate giants see financial gain in a merger that leaves thousands without work. Some of these find purpose by joining suicide bombers.
I'm not in any way assigning blame, though. Don't get too excited. Each person is responsible for their own actions. The oil company is to blame for the lay-offs. The boy himself is to blame for his terrorist actions. I'm not about to go anywhere near that other line of reasoning. What I'm simply saying is that we should look a little farther down the line from our bottom line to try to see what our choices could mean to people in other countries. There's nothing wrong with a little more consideration. That's not a Liberal value; that's a human value.
--The two brothers in the (Iranian?) royal family. From the outside, the CIA saw an older brother rightfully ascending the throne, and a younger brother attempting a military coup. From the inside, from Damon's character's perspective, we see an older brother willing to pursue the safety of status quo government, versus the younger, well-educated brother wanting to pursue actual democracy, restored infrastructure, and gender equality. Now, in the film, the younger brother is killed by a CIA airstrike, because the CIA is in bed with Big Oil, who wants to do business with the older brother. While this seems a little too pat, it brings up an interesting issue: is it possible that some of our choices about how we address regimes in the Middle East have more to do with maintaining status quo and good business, rather than the best interests of our country and theirs? (Ahem, Saudi Arabia.)
[Second-side note: Which is better for US economically? Spending incredibly large amounts of money overthrowing a despotic regime and replacing it with a democracy that could still turn against us? Or lifting sanctions against a tyrannical ruler so that we can do business with him? Hmm again.]
These and other questions make this film worth viewing. Of course, the fact that I'm raising these questions would make me a "liberal" in my parents' house, but clearly I'm still very "right of center." I refuse to demonize "Big Oil" or the government across-the-board, but I will admit that there are problems, and there are people who refuse to address these problems.
But as I said before, asking questions is not a party-issue. It's a critical-thought and being-well-informed issue. The problem lies when you force the answers to your questions to be filtered through your preconceived notions about what the truth is. When you refuse to admit that the political or media figure you've demonized may not be the boogie-man you've made him or her out to be. Or when you can't admit that the person you've admired turns out to be a bigger turd than you expected. That's where the problems start...and where communication stops. Oh well. I'll get off my soapbox now.
Final Summation: I think this is a thoroughly worthwhile film to see AND DISCUSS. While you may not agree with everything it seems to assert, there are many important questions asked in the story that should be considered. All in all, recommended. Rock on.
First, the story: Hard to explain. The short version is that it is about the interplay between the oil and gas industry and the political structures and changes in the Middle East, and how the U.S.'s involvement in that process could effect both positive and negative change. However, to sum it up so succinctly (believe me, that really is the short version) loses so much in the translation. It's also about how outside perspectives can be false, and how actions have ripple effects. It's about a lot of things. It has been compared to Traffic, a brilliant film with the same writer (who directs this film). Stylistically, there certainly are similarities, in terms of how the story is presented. All in all, this is a movie that requires you to chew on it for some time afterward. But this extra effort is rewarding.
Now, my thoughts:
[Needless to say, consider the rest of this post to be under MAJOR SPOILER WARNING until the red text at the end.]
--I thought the acting was outstanding across the board. Really great performances, even by the few actors given card-board cut-out characters (poor Tim Blake Nelson). I was convinced that each of these characters (though, admittedly, some more than others) were real people, instead of characterizations. I enjoyed George Clooney's befuddled and increasingly desparate ex-CIA operative, especially when the walls started closing in around him. I loved Matt Damon's heartfelt portrayal of the energy analyst who invests himself in a dream of democracy that's cut short. I liked Jeffrey Wright's lawyer, who always seemed to evade me when I tried to pin down which 'side' he was really on. Good work on all accounts.
--I appreciated how deftly the filmmaker handled Damon's son's death. (I won't be able to remember character names often, so i'll use actors' names when needed. Just so you know.) The turning on of the lights. The shot of the broken bulb and exposed wiring. The kids by the pool, about to jump in. And then the lights flickering elsewhere. Really well-conceived series of shots. I don't know if that little light could create enough of a current through the water to electrocute the boy (at least enough for him to drown). But I bought it completely, as I sat there.
--There were only a few clear "villains" in this movie. TBN's oil tycoon is one. I'd classify the CIA guy who called for the airstrike as another. Maybe a few more of the oil people, but they were played as buffoons, rather than evil and conniving. Sadly, the jihadist suicide bombers were not played as clear villains either, though their "teacher" certainly was menacing to me, in that overly kind, spider-to-the-fly way.
--I'll agree with one reviewer that, in retrospect, I was a little uneasy with how benign the terrorist group Hezbollah was portrayed. As one blogger put it, remember that in terms of terrorist groups, they have killed the second-highest number of American citizens (after Al-Quaida). So for the leader of this group to be the "kindly old man" that Clooney goes to see, it didn't get through during the movie, but it bugged me afterward.
--The nail-pulling scene was just tough to sit through. Poor Bob. Dude turned his back on Bob like a cold-blooded gangsta.
--On a related note, I will say that they showed two different portrayals of "true believers," though the benign jihadists were more sympathetically portrayed than Bob's turncoat contact who announced he was going to "cut his head off." It was like the film couldn't decide if they were "bad" or not.
--There's a political undercurrent in this movie that's hard to pin down. Many conservatives have reacted to it negatively, saying it's anti-business and anti-Administration. I think this is a somewhat glaring overstatement, but I understand where it's coming from. Conservatives have been conditioned over the years (by the words and actions of both sides) to be distrustful of any piece of art that is overtly political, because overwhelmingly, it is anti-conservative.
However, this film goes beyond party lines a little bit, I think. Granted, it is steeped in the mistrust of the CIA that is most often found in the Left. But there's so much more to it than that. Clear and Present Danger had nefarious CIA operatives, but no one would call that a "liberal movie." Syriana has a lot to do with how we look at other governments, and how the choices we (as a foreign power) make can affect these other governments. It asks questions about whether our foreign policy choices are based more on the interest of our economy or democracy in general.
(Side-note: I would like to point out that, in this film, Big Oil was actually "opposed" to a democratic regime, and preferred a monarchy that was well in-pocket. The thing about sovereign democracies is, not only can the people elect whom they will, but they can do business with whom they will. So, if a Western leader wanted to wage a "war for oil" [hypothetically speaking, of course], would he or she want to install a sovereign constitutional democracy or a monarchy ruled by a crony? Hmm. Food for thought, that.)
--As I said, the film doesn't portray the suicide bomber in a negative light. In fact, he is almost a sympathetic character, though this isn't explicitly stated. I disagree with and reject this thought completely. However, his storyline brings up an interesting question. He was working for an oil company when a merger resulted in massive lay-offs, him included. Left with no job and no future, he was suckered into a cloistered cult-like group of jihadists who wore white and spoke of purity and devotion. In this group, he was given a sense of meaning. He was so desparate for honor and purpose that he was willing to do anything, and he did just that. So the question that his story raises is: shouldn't we consider more carefully the repercussions of our actions? The "evil" corporate giants see financial gain in a merger that leaves thousands without work. Some of these find purpose by joining suicide bombers.
I'm not in any way assigning blame, though. Don't get too excited. Each person is responsible for their own actions. The oil company is to blame for the lay-offs. The boy himself is to blame for his terrorist actions. I'm not about to go anywhere near that other line of reasoning. What I'm simply saying is that we should look a little farther down the line from our bottom line to try to see what our choices could mean to people in other countries. There's nothing wrong with a little more consideration. That's not a Liberal value; that's a human value.
--The two brothers in the (Iranian?) royal family. From the outside, the CIA saw an older brother rightfully ascending the throne, and a younger brother attempting a military coup. From the inside, from Damon's character's perspective, we see an older brother willing to pursue the safety of status quo government, versus the younger, well-educated brother wanting to pursue actual democracy, restored infrastructure, and gender equality. Now, in the film, the younger brother is killed by a CIA airstrike, because the CIA is in bed with Big Oil, who wants to do business with the older brother. While this seems a little too pat, it brings up an interesting issue: is it possible that some of our choices about how we address regimes in the Middle East have more to do with maintaining status quo and good business, rather than the best interests of our country and theirs? (Ahem, Saudi Arabia.)
[Second-side note: Which is better for US economically? Spending incredibly large amounts of money overthrowing a despotic regime and replacing it with a democracy that could still turn against us? Or lifting sanctions against a tyrannical ruler so that we can do business with him? Hmm again.]
These and other questions make this film worth viewing. Of course, the fact that I'm raising these questions would make me a "liberal" in my parents' house, but clearly I'm still very "right of center." I refuse to demonize "Big Oil" or the government across-the-board, but I will admit that there are problems, and there are people who refuse to address these problems.
But as I said before, asking questions is not a party-issue. It's a critical-thought and being-well-informed issue. The problem lies when you force the answers to your questions to be filtered through your preconceived notions about what the truth is. When you refuse to admit that the political or media figure you've demonized may not be the boogie-man you've made him or her out to be. Or when you can't admit that the person you've admired turns out to be a bigger turd than you expected. That's where the problems start...and where communication stops. Oh well. I'll get off my soapbox now.
Final Summation: I think this is a thoroughly worthwhile film to see AND DISCUSS. While you may not agree with everything it seems to assert, there are many important questions asked in the story that should be considered. All in all, recommended. Rock on.
"In Which Johnny Apple-Pie Gets Kicked in the Balls By the Realization of His Own Mortality in the Drive-Thru Lane of the World's Oldest Dairy Queen"
...is the best made-up title ever. I'm almost certainly going to write a short story of some kind simply to justify its existence.
And no, you can't use it yourself. It's mine.
===
Several posts planned for the early part of the week (today, tomorrow). End-of-the-year silliness expected for Thursday and Friday.
I know I should run through the Slackies again this year. But I'm feeling less-inspired on that account.
Oh, what the hell. Sure. If you're up for it, so am I.
In the comments below, drop your category suggestions, as well as your nominations for the usual suspects (best movie/album/TV show/book/news event/etc./etc.).
More excitement later.
And no, you can't use it yourself. It's mine.
===
Several posts planned for the early part of the week (today, tomorrow). End-of-the-year silliness expected for Thursday and Friday.
I know I should run through the Slackies again this year. But I'm feeling less-inspired on that account.
Oh, what the hell. Sure. If you're up for it, so am I.
In the comments below, drop your category suggestions, as well as your nominations for the usual suspects (best movie/album/TV show/book/news event/etc./etc.).
More excitement later.
Thursday, December 22, 2005
"You can't stop the signal!"
HIGH HIGH movie recommendation:
Serenity.
It's science fiction. It's an adventure story. It's a western.
It's a righteously cool and well-written story, is what it is.
And it's one of the best sci-fi movies I've ever seen. Seriously.
So that's your assignment. Check out "Serenity" this weekend at your local video store/RedBox location. Worth your two hours and five bucks.
Serenity.
It's science fiction. It's an adventure story. It's a western.
It's a righteously cool and well-written story, is what it is.
And it's one of the best sci-fi movies I've ever seen. Seriously.
So that's your assignment. Check out "Serenity" this weekend at your local video store/RedBox location. Worth your two hours and five bucks.
"Christmas Day is in our grasp, as long as we have hands to clasp..." (UPDATED)
Well, I'm signing off for the weekend. Have a very merry, safe, and loving Christmas holiday.
Remember one thing above all others: God is with us. Immanuel. So, if you're feeling a little isolated, hurt, forgotten, remember that Jesus was sent into the world, so that God could have a relationship with YOU.
You are loved.
See you kids next week. We'll run through the usual end-of-the-year lists.
Peace and grace.
UPDATED: Crap, sorry, didn't mean to be offensive or non-inclusive.
Wanted to include the other major celebration.
So, Daryl, Happy Jesus-palooza.
(For you non-celebrants, that's pronounced "hey-soos-pa-looz-a". Just so you know. Still confused? Ask me sometime. It's not that interesting, really.)
Remember one thing above all others: God is with us. Immanuel. So, if you're feeling a little isolated, hurt, forgotten, remember that Jesus was sent into the world, so that God could have a relationship with YOU.
You are loved.
See you kids next week. We'll run through the usual end-of-the-year lists.
Peace and grace.
UPDATED: Crap, sorry, didn't mean to be offensive or non-inclusive.
Wanted to include the other major celebration.
So, Daryl, Happy Jesus-palooza.
(For you non-celebrants, that's pronounced "hey-soos-pa-looz-a". Just so you know. Still confused? Ask me sometime. It's not that interesting, really.)
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
That's it, time to make a decision.
I'm doing it. Thank you, those of you whom I've asked and who have advised. Thanks for your support and (hopefully) candid answers about if it's worth doing.
So there it is. Clear goal-setting, Trev. I'm doing it.
Hoo-ah.
So there it is. Clear goal-setting, Trev. I'm doing it.
Hoo-ah.
Monday, December 19, 2005
You know what I miss?
"The PBB Cool Ten (12/18-12/24)"!!!
10. Wait a minute--the Texans won?!?
9. The Aeros are tied for the second-best point total in the AHL, and are still leading the division. Boo-yah!
8. I'm looking forward to taking the "Financial Peace University" seminar next month. If you've got money woes, Dave Ramsey is a good guy to listen to.
7. Watched Kronk's New Groove. Not nearly as good as The Emperor's New Groove (one of the top five Disney films EVER), but certainly chuckle-worthy, if you like the first one.
6. I don't have to teach Sunday School for two weeks. I was embarrassed to admit it (until I found out that the other teachers felt the same way), but thank the Lord, because I need a bit of a break. Time to recharge, and prepare for a new lesson series. Ideas?
5. Reading Cash. Good stuff, thusfar.
4. I like Hugh Hewitt. Solid.
3. I'm gonna be hanging with the Couri's in less than two weeks!
2. Off work Friday--certainly looking forward to that.
1. Immanuel.
10. Wait a minute--the Texans won?!?
9. The Aeros are tied for the second-best point total in the AHL, and are still leading the division. Boo-yah!
8. I'm looking forward to taking the "Financial Peace University" seminar next month. If you've got money woes, Dave Ramsey is a good guy to listen to.
7. Watched Kronk's New Groove. Not nearly as good as The Emperor's New Groove (one of the top five Disney films EVER), but certainly chuckle-worthy, if you like the first one.
6. I don't have to teach Sunday School for two weeks. I was embarrassed to admit it (until I found out that the other teachers felt the same way), but thank the Lord, because I need a bit of a break. Time to recharge, and prepare for a new lesson series. Ideas?
5. Reading Cash. Good stuff, thusfar.
4. I like Hugh Hewitt. Solid.
3. I'm gonna be hanging with the Couri's in less than two weeks!
2. Off work Friday--certainly looking forward to that.
1. Immanuel.
"My links..."
My links, my links, my links
My links, my links, my links,
My lovely little links
Check 'em out.
My links, my links, my links,
My lovely little links
Check 'em out.
- Why would I reference that hideous song in the title? Because I have two brilliant links to offer as the antidote: breakdancing robots (video) and Santa Claus (audio). [h-t: Pop Candy.]
- I would say get me one of these as a Christmas present, but then I'd have to cop to what size.
- They aren't kidding when they said it was addicting.
- Best 2005 re-cap ever. By James Lileks, of course. (Warning: Right-leaning.) One of the items that made me laugh: "Pope John Paul II dies. To the horror of many, his successor turns out to be Catholic."
- Being a movie geek, I thought this movie-poster blog was fascinating.
- If you're new to PBB, and you enjoyed the Redux from yesterday, here are the other posts in the series: Job, Ezekiel, King Saul, and the un-Prodigal Son.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Bible Redux: The End of Waiting
So this is how it all went down.
The old man adjusted his robes and took a breath as he slowly made his way into the temple courts. Around him, people prayed, spoke softly, presented sacrifices to the priests.
It was large, this temple. Much larger than the temple of his youth. Some were still angry that such a wicked man could have been allowed by G-d to build something so lovely. Simeon felt this himself, from time to time. But when his anger or his disdain crept up, he would repeat to himself that the whole earth belongs to G-d and everything in it. One place is as good as another to pray. A temple is a temple. As long as the True G-d is worshiped there, what matter who builds it?
He walked over to his usual spot. He liked praying in the courtyard. Something about the way the sunlight hit his face made him happy. He bowed his head, and raised his open, wrinkled hands before him, and began his prayers.
All of his life, he prayed. From the time he was a boy, his faith had been strong, and he prayed fervently, as if his very breath depended on it. Even now, so very many years later, he prayed just as fervently as when he was a teenager. Some joked amongst themselves that he was actually praying for his next breath, for another day of life. If they dared ask him (which they wouldn't), he would probably have laughed and said yes. Simeon was old. How old, no one knew. But old enough to know suffering and many frustrated and disappointed years. He felt each of them every morning, when he got out of bed and his joints creaked and groaned. With each sigh, he felt the weight of a life spent waiting crush his chest.
Yet every morning, despite the pain, despite the doubt, he arose, dressed himself, and walked to the temple to pray.
What did Simeon pray for? He prayed for his children, his grandchildren, his great grandchildren. He prayed for his neighbors, his friends, his countrymen. He prayed for the priests and teachers, that G-d would continue to grant them wisdom in leadership. But most of all, most importantly of all, he prayed for the deliverance of his people. He prayed that the Promise would be fulfilled. He prayed that David's line would be restored, and that Israel could again be strong and favored.
He prayed for Messiah. The coming of Immanuel, the sign of the Promise.
He knew the writings of the prophets. They were written on his heart, from years of listening, reading, questioning. There were some parts he didn't understand. Their king would suffer? How could the Holy One allow it? Yet even in his confusion, he prayed, "Adonay, come quickly, you are my Deliverer, my Shield and Strong Tower."
Every day, Simeon prayed. And every day he waited. And every day, deliverance did not come.
How long had it been since Israel heard the words of a prophet of G-d? Generations. Even his father's father's father had not heard rumor of one of G-d's messengers. No word from the Lord. Silence in heaven.
Meanwhile, war and rebellion on earth. The Maccabees revolted, and then were defeated. And Rome, cruel Rome! It came like a wave, and it was all Zion could do to bear it. There were a few benefits to their occupiers' presence. The roads were getting better. Crime was down. But everywhere, fear filled the air. There was tension. Anxiety. All it would take would be one band of Zealots, anarchists drunk on stupid anger, to provoke Rome to action. How fearsome that would be, to feel the fury of this godless empire crush down upon them.
So every morning, the old man walked to the temple, lifted his hands in the early morning sun, and prayed. Deliver us. From enemies outside. From our wicked hearts. Deliver us from evil.
Another man's faith would have wavered, perhaps. But not Simeon's. He was filled with hope. In his dreams, and in his very bones, the truth was revealed to him: He is coming. Wait for him.
On that last day, Simeon prayed as he always did. He asked, "How long, O Lord, until we see your Kingdom come? How long until our King appears?"
Suddenly, he felt shot through with light, with heat. He gasped, startled, and opened his closed eyes. The sunlight blinded him, dazzled him, so he lowered his eyes and rubbed them with his gnarled fingers. When his vision cleared, he saw, walking across the courtyard, a girl carrying a baby and a man carrying a small cage with two birds in it.
He felt the chills rise and fall along his spine, spreading out to his fingertips and toes. And in his head, reverberating like the shout of an angel, one word:
Immanuel.
Simeon felt himself begin to weep. He nearly ran through the crowd to meet them, his body filled with energy he hadn't known in years. He nearly shoved people out of the way, so anxious was he to see this family.
When he reached them, out of breath and smiling wildly, he stopped short. The girl, still a teenager it appeared, looked a bit alarmed and held her child close. The man, a little older than she was, put his arm around her and took a bit of a step forward.
Simeon raised his hands in reassurance. His tears calmed the couple. Simeon reached out with ancient, shaking hands, asking for the child. His mother hesitated for only a second, and then passed her precious newborn son to the old man.
No words could express what Simeon felt, looking into that baby's clear eyes. The baby sucked on its fist for a little while, and then reached out and touched the old man's white beard, grasping and pulling a little of it. Simeon laughed. "What is his name?" he asked the father. The younger man cleared his throat and said, "Yeshua." Simeon nodded. "G-d saves. Of course."
He looked up to the bright, blue sky, and said aloud, even in the hearing of those around him, "Merciful Lord, you are faithful to your word. I am now ready to rest, for with my own two eyes, I have seen Your Salvation, which you have shown in the presence of all as the dawn of understanding to those outside, and a glory to Your People."
The young couple was stunned, speechless. Simeon handed the baby back to his mother, and then reached up his hand and placed it on the father's head, blessing him. He did the same to the mother, saying, "This baby you hold will be the rise and fall of many in Zion. He will be a sign spoken falsely against, so that the true hearts of men will be revealed." He paused, looked at her, and sighed. "And you, my dear, will ultimately be pierced through with grief for his sake." The woman looked into his eyes. Simeon saw in her face a mix of confusion and gratitude. He smiled and half-shrugged.
As he turned away, at that very moment, another figure familiar to the temple appeared. The old widow Anna. She began speaking to the couple and praising God because of the child. Simeon smiled as he walked away.
He didn't finish his prayers. They had been answered. He slowly made his way to his home, a room adjacent to his grandson's house. His granddaughter-in-law saw him and walked out to meet him in the yard. "Grandfather, you're home early--are you feeling ill?"
He laughed and shook his head, as he made his way to his room. "No, my child, I'm very well."
He closed the door, and slowly laid down on his bed. He silently prayed one last time, a praise to G-d for being the Faithful One of Israel. He prayed for the baby who would deliver them all, that He would be strong and wise. Simeon knew this would happen, of course, knew without a doubt, but these are the prayers that old men pray. Prayers that aren't spoken out of doubt, but out of faith and joy and thankfulness. Prayers that say to G-d, "Your Will be done. Amen. Selah."
And Simeon knew that on the other side of death, he would greet that boy again.
He was feeling very well indeed.
===
source
The old man adjusted his robes and took a breath as he slowly made his way into the temple courts. Around him, people prayed, spoke softly, presented sacrifices to the priests.
It was large, this temple. Much larger than the temple of his youth. Some were still angry that such a wicked man could have been allowed by G-d to build something so lovely. Simeon felt this himself, from time to time. But when his anger or his disdain crept up, he would repeat to himself that the whole earth belongs to G-d and everything in it. One place is as good as another to pray. A temple is a temple. As long as the True G-d is worshiped there, what matter who builds it?
He walked over to his usual spot. He liked praying in the courtyard. Something about the way the sunlight hit his face made him happy. He bowed his head, and raised his open, wrinkled hands before him, and began his prayers.
All of his life, he prayed. From the time he was a boy, his faith had been strong, and he prayed fervently, as if his very breath depended on it. Even now, so very many years later, he prayed just as fervently as when he was a teenager. Some joked amongst themselves that he was actually praying for his next breath, for another day of life. If they dared ask him (which they wouldn't), he would probably have laughed and said yes. Simeon was old. How old, no one knew. But old enough to know suffering and many frustrated and disappointed years. He felt each of them every morning, when he got out of bed and his joints creaked and groaned. With each sigh, he felt the weight of a life spent waiting crush his chest.
Yet every morning, despite the pain, despite the doubt, he arose, dressed himself, and walked to the temple to pray.
What did Simeon pray for? He prayed for his children, his grandchildren, his great grandchildren. He prayed for his neighbors, his friends, his countrymen. He prayed for the priests and teachers, that G-d would continue to grant them wisdom in leadership. But most of all, most importantly of all, he prayed for the deliverance of his people. He prayed that the Promise would be fulfilled. He prayed that David's line would be restored, and that Israel could again be strong and favored.
He prayed for Messiah. The coming of Immanuel, the sign of the Promise.
He knew the writings of the prophets. They were written on his heart, from years of listening, reading, questioning. There were some parts he didn't understand. Their king would suffer? How could the Holy One allow it? Yet even in his confusion, he prayed, "Adonay, come quickly, you are my Deliverer, my Shield and Strong Tower."
Every day, Simeon prayed. And every day he waited. And every day, deliverance did not come.
How long had it been since Israel heard the words of a prophet of G-d? Generations. Even his father's father's father had not heard rumor of one of G-d's messengers. No word from the Lord. Silence in heaven.
Meanwhile, war and rebellion on earth. The Maccabees revolted, and then were defeated. And Rome, cruel Rome! It came like a wave, and it was all Zion could do to bear it. There were a few benefits to their occupiers' presence. The roads were getting better. Crime was down. But everywhere, fear filled the air. There was tension. Anxiety. All it would take would be one band of Zealots, anarchists drunk on stupid anger, to provoke Rome to action. How fearsome that would be, to feel the fury of this godless empire crush down upon them.
So every morning, the old man walked to the temple, lifted his hands in the early morning sun, and prayed. Deliver us. From enemies outside. From our wicked hearts. Deliver us from evil.
Another man's faith would have wavered, perhaps. But not Simeon's. He was filled with hope. In his dreams, and in his very bones, the truth was revealed to him: He is coming. Wait for him.
On that last day, Simeon prayed as he always did. He asked, "How long, O Lord, until we see your Kingdom come? How long until our King appears?"
Suddenly, he felt shot through with light, with heat. He gasped, startled, and opened his closed eyes. The sunlight blinded him, dazzled him, so he lowered his eyes and rubbed them with his gnarled fingers. When his vision cleared, he saw, walking across the courtyard, a girl carrying a baby and a man carrying a small cage with two birds in it.
He felt the chills rise and fall along his spine, spreading out to his fingertips and toes. And in his head, reverberating like the shout of an angel, one word:
Immanuel.
Simeon felt himself begin to weep. He nearly ran through the crowd to meet them, his body filled with energy he hadn't known in years. He nearly shoved people out of the way, so anxious was he to see this family.
When he reached them, out of breath and smiling wildly, he stopped short. The girl, still a teenager it appeared, looked a bit alarmed and held her child close. The man, a little older than she was, put his arm around her and took a bit of a step forward.
Simeon raised his hands in reassurance. His tears calmed the couple. Simeon reached out with ancient, shaking hands, asking for the child. His mother hesitated for only a second, and then passed her precious newborn son to the old man.
No words could express what Simeon felt, looking into that baby's clear eyes. The baby sucked on its fist for a little while, and then reached out and touched the old man's white beard, grasping and pulling a little of it. Simeon laughed. "What is his name?" he asked the father. The younger man cleared his throat and said, "Yeshua." Simeon nodded. "G-d saves. Of course."
He looked up to the bright, blue sky, and said aloud, even in the hearing of those around him, "Merciful Lord, you are faithful to your word. I am now ready to rest, for with my own two eyes, I have seen Your Salvation, which you have shown in the presence of all as the dawn of understanding to those outside, and a glory to Your People."
The young couple was stunned, speechless. Simeon handed the baby back to his mother, and then reached up his hand and placed it on the father's head, blessing him. He did the same to the mother, saying, "This baby you hold will be the rise and fall of many in Zion. He will be a sign spoken falsely against, so that the true hearts of men will be revealed." He paused, looked at her, and sighed. "And you, my dear, will ultimately be pierced through with grief for his sake." The woman looked into his eyes. Simeon saw in her face a mix of confusion and gratitude. He smiled and half-shrugged.
As he turned away, at that very moment, another figure familiar to the temple appeared. The old widow Anna. She began speaking to the couple and praising God because of the child. Simeon smiled as he walked away.
He didn't finish his prayers. They had been answered. He slowly made his way to his home, a room adjacent to his grandson's house. His granddaughter-in-law saw him and walked out to meet him in the yard. "Grandfather, you're home early--are you feeling ill?"
He laughed and shook his head, as he made his way to his room. "No, my child, I'm very well."
He closed the door, and slowly laid down on his bed. He silently prayed one last time, a praise to G-d for being the Faithful One of Israel. He prayed for the baby who would deliver them all, that He would be strong and wise. Simeon knew this would happen, of course, knew without a doubt, but these are the prayers that old men pray. Prayers that aren't spoken out of doubt, but out of faith and joy and thankfulness. Prayers that say to G-d, "Your Will be done. Amen. Selah."
And Simeon knew that on the other side of death, he would greet that boy again.
He was feeling very well indeed.
===
source
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
C Is For "Cookie"
Our office often has special treats given to us, or someone in the office will bring brownies or something. We also have a birthday almost every week, it seems. So needless to say, lots of food around, especially during the holidays.
Yesterday, we were sent several boxes of really nice chocolate dipped mint chocolate cookies. Each cookie is square, about two and a half inches on each side. Serious cookie.
I had a few with lunch yesterday. Later, as it became clear I was staying very late at work, I had a couple more.
I got really hungry around eight. Since I still had to plug away at a project, I went into the breakroom, grabbed the bag of cookies, and walked the ten feet back to my office. Instead of jumping up to grab a snack each time, I just brought the snack to me. Seems reasonable.
I didn't eat a lot of them. A few more than I should have, admittedly. But there were plenty left. I tied the plastic bag into a knot on the open end, and set it on top of my printer, so that I would remember to return it when I left.
I don't remember returning it. I realized this on the way in this morning, but thought it would be no big deal to walk it back to the break room first thing.
I open my door, walk into my office, and find a little gift bag on my computer. And no bag of cookies.
The gift back contained the yearly Christmas magnet that our department director (two doors down) gives out.
So, now, I must wonder: did she see the bag of cookies and take them back? Does she think I was hoarding them?
Do I now have a reputation as the Office Cookie Monster?
I'm stuck trying to decide if I should tell her that I forgot to take them back, or it would just look too bad. Is it worth the awkwardness to avoid the confrontation?
This is not how I wanted to start my Wednesday.
Yesterday, we were sent several boxes of really nice chocolate dipped mint chocolate cookies. Each cookie is square, about two and a half inches on each side. Serious cookie.
I had a few with lunch yesterday. Later, as it became clear I was staying very late at work, I had a couple more.
I got really hungry around eight. Since I still had to plug away at a project, I went into the breakroom, grabbed the bag of cookies, and walked the ten feet back to my office. Instead of jumping up to grab a snack each time, I just brought the snack to me. Seems reasonable.
I didn't eat a lot of them. A few more than I should have, admittedly. But there were plenty left. I tied the plastic bag into a knot on the open end, and set it on top of my printer, so that I would remember to return it when I left.
I don't remember returning it. I realized this on the way in this morning, but thought it would be no big deal to walk it back to the break room first thing.
I open my door, walk into my office, and find a little gift bag on my computer. And no bag of cookies.
The gift back contained the yearly Christmas magnet that our department director (two doors down) gives out.
So, now, I must wonder: did she see the bag of cookies and take them back? Does she think I was hoarding them?
Do I now have a reputation as the Office Cookie Monster?
I'm stuck trying to decide if I should tell her that I forgot to take them back, or it would just look too bad. Is it worth the awkwardness to avoid the confrontation?
This is not how I wanted to start my Wednesday.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Thoughts While Eating an Asian-themed Lunch in a Plastic Container That I Bought Out of the Back of a Jeep for Two Dollars
You know, sometimes you have to push aside all the concerns about salt or grease, or the number of unnatural chemicals you are likely ingesting, or the countless hordes of germs that may or may not lurk in your bowl.
You just focus on the two-dollar price tag, close your eyes, take a bite, and think:
"Mmmmm, chickeny."
You just focus on the two-dollar price tag, close your eyes, take a bite, and think:
"Mmmmm, chickeny."
Monday, December 12, 2005
Real-time CD Reviews: Bo Bice, "The Real Thing"
I'm feeling daring this evening. So how about a review of the latest CD by an American Idol contestant?
You know, I've always thought that Bice had a great vocal talent. The growly twang of southern rock. Some would call this a liability, but I think this is Bice's strength. He definitely can make it work. Like the whole long-hair-and-beard thing. Okay, bad analogy.
(I'm starting this during the second track of the album. The first cut was the title track, and it was predictable for a rock ballad.)
"You're Everything." It's not bad, necessarily. It's energetic. But it just sounds so average. Routine. Unoriginal. What does the AOL page say? "...paired the singer with the songwriting talents of Jon Bon Jovi and Nickelback's Chad Kroeger." Well, that certainly explains it.
"U Make Me Better." And illiterate, apparently. Instead of commenting on the song itself, which is not that awful, I feel the need to declare a moratorium on all songs that have single-letters-representing-words in the titles. (I'm looking at you, Miss Clarkson.) "Let me take you home tonight!" he sings. Okay, now, wait a sec--is that "you" or "U"? Is it code? I'm so confused. Nevermind, this song bathes in mediocrity.
"Nothing Without You." Not "U"? MAKE UP YOUR MIND, MAN!!! Anyway. Have I mentioned that this album was written by Bon Jovi and that guy from Nickelback? Because IT SOUNDS LIKE IT. And that's not necessarily a complement. I don't know. If you like the formulaic radio-rock songs with the power-chord heavy "loud ballad" sound that suddenly drop to the quiet, almost-a cappella bridge before screaming the last line and ripping the chorus reprise, then I guess this song/album is your bag.
"My World." My God. Even the song titles are uninspired. "Love is all around you, the universe is full, but in my world, there is only you." ACH! MY EARS! THE BLOOD! OH, MOTHER, THE BLOOD! "He's your everything." But then again, three songs ago, "you" were everything. So I guess, everyone's everything. Sweeet.
"Remember Me." The verse starts off kinda interesting sonically. I like the melody and the way he plays with it. ...Then BAM with the rote chorus. The downward stair-stepping chord pattern (you musical types will have to forgive me for not knowing the proper terminology). And then the "Whooooooaaaaaa" over about four measures (I know that term, music nerds! HA!). "Remember me, how I made you laugh, till I made you cry, about everything, so never forgeeeeettttt!!!" I swear, with all the uses of the word "everything" in this album, you could make it a drinking game, except that everyone would be plastered by...
"Hold On To Me." The referee holds up his arm and blows the whistle. "Bice, two minutes, for Nickelback-ing." ("Nickelback-ing": Unnecessary repetition; overuse of 'whoa'; combining keyboards/organ with over-wrought, cliched lyrics; producing radio-friendly, shallow, knock-off "rock.")
"Lie...It's Alright." Someone buy this man a dictionary, PLEASE? Two words, Bo--"all" and "right." And what's with the background vocals run through the bullhorn in certain parts? Did J.D. Fortune offer to sing back-up? Ugh. If the last song was put in the penalty box for Nickelback-ing, this one should take a seat also, for "Crushing." ("Crushing": Emulating later Bon Jovi songs through the use of faux-rock-riffs during the verses before deflating into an uninspired, power ballad chorus with lots of held-out notes.) The only thing that kept the two-minute penalty from being a five-minute major for Crushing was the lack of the "mowowow" guitar solo during the bridge.
[Full Disclosure: Had to listen to that track twice to make sure the Crushing penalty was properly assessed.]
(C'mon, Bo, gimme something positive to say. I still believe in you.)
"It's My Life." *SNORT* Heh. Nice. Subtle, Jon. "It's my life, my time to find the answers..." Mm-hmm. Standard "take time to smell the roses" ballad with painfully earnest lyrics. "Sometimes I miss my family, I wonder what they're doing right now." Hmm. Hopefully listening to Sufjan Stevens and not swearing they don't know you. Kidding aside, this track wasn't as bad as the others. Weak praise, that.
"Willing to Try." Uh oh, beware the single piano. If he says "I'll be there for you," I swear I'll die. Ah, here comes the familiarly loud tones of the rock accompaniment. ("Here I go" count: 4, currently.) "I'm not gonna change who I am, but I ain't gonna give up the fight..." Ouch. Take that, haters. (Cliche check: "when it's all said and done," "come of age," "we only get one life," "if you believe in me") Oooh, BACK to the single piano for four measures of the chorus reprise, and then he SHOCKS us with the slam-bang rock-out of the last two choruses.
"Valley of Angels." What is this? This doesn't sound at all like a Bon Jovi/Nickelback title. And the song itself? Piano only for the first verse and chorus, choral "ooh"-ing behind the chorus and background repetition and response during the second verse. The lyrics aren't brilliant, but they're not noxious. There is a small guitar solo for a bridge. But this song actually is halfway decent. The reason? Instead of beating it to death as a power ballad, they "took it to church" a bit, gave it some sway. Well done, Bo. Despite evil outside influences, this song didn't suck. Hoo-rah.
Final Judgement: Too much Bon Jovi/Kroeger-inspired lameness corrupts another young singer. Bo is a great vocalist, who needs to either figure out how to write his own music (and)/or find a better collaborator. Out of five stars, I give this a solid two--one because I like Bo's voice and the other because of the last track. I think I'm being generous... You know what? I am. Half-star deduction for the appalling song-titles. So there you are, kids. 1.5/5
You know, I've always thought that Bice had a great vocal talent. The growly twang of southern rock. Some would call this a liability, but I think this is Bice's strength. He definitely can make it work. Like the whole long-hair-and-beard thing. Okay, bad analogy.
(I'm starting this during the second track of the album. The first cut was the title track, and it was predictable for a rock ballad.)
"You're Everything." It's not bad, necessarily. It's energetic. But it just sounds so average. Routine. Unoriginal. What does the AOL page say? "...paired the singer with the songwriting talents of Jon Bon Jovi and Nickelback's Chad Kroeger." Well, that certainly explains it.
"U Make Me Better." And illiterate, apparently. Instead of commenting on the song itself, which is not that awful, I feel the need to declare a moratorium on all songs that have single-letters-representing-words in the titles. (I'm looking at you, Miss Clarkson.) "Let me take you home tonight!" he sings. Okay, now, wait a sec--is that "you" or "U"? Is it code? I'm so confused. Nevermind, this song bathes in mediocrity.
"Nothing Without You." Not "U"? MAKE UP YOUR MIND, MAN!!! Anyway. Have I mentioned that this album was written by Bon Jovi and that guy from Nickelback? Because IT SOUNDS LIKE IT. And that's not necessarily a complement. I don't know. If you like the formulaic radio-rock songs with the power-chord heavy "loud ballad" sound that suddenly drop to the quiet, almost-a cappella bridge before screaming the last line and ripping the chorus reprise, then I guess this song/album is your bag.
"My World." My God. Even the song titles are uninspired. "Love is all around you, the universe is full, but in my world, there is only you." ACH! MY EARS! THE BLOOD! OH, MOTHER, THE BLOOD! "He's your everything." But then again, three songs ago, "you" were everything. So I guess, everyone's everything. Sweeet.
"Remember Me." The verse starts off kinda interesting sonically. I like the melody and the way he plays with it. ...Then BAM with the rote chorus. The downward stair-stepping chord pattern (you musical types will have to forgive me for not knowing the proper terminology). And then the "Whooooooaaaaaa" over about four measures (I know that term, music nerds! HA!). "Remember me, how I made you laugh, till I made you cry, about everything, so never forgeeeeettttt!!!" I swear, with all the uses of the word "everything" in this album, you could make it a drinking game, except that everyone would be plastered by...
"Hold On To Me." The referee holds up his arm and blows the whistle. "Bice, two minutes, for Nickelback-ing." ("Nickelback-ing": Unnecessary repetition; overuse of 'whoa'; combining keyboards/organ with over-wrought, cliched lyrics; producing radio-friendly, shallow, knock-off "rock.")
"Lie...It's Alright." Someone buy this man a dictionary, PLEASE? Two words, Bo--"all" and "right." And what's with the background vocals run through the bullhorn in certain parts? Did J.D. Fortune offer to sing back-up? Ugh. If the last song was put in the penalty box for Nickelback-ing, this one should take a seat also, for "Crushing." ("Crushing": Emulating later Bon Jovi songs through the use of faux-rock-riffs during the verses before deflating into an uninspired, power ballad chorus with lots of held-out notes.) The only thing that kept the two-minute penalty from being a five-minute major for Crushing was the lack of the "mowowow" guitar solo during the bridge.
[Full Disclosure: Had to listen to that track twice to make sure the Crushing penalty was properly assessed.]
(C'mon, Bo, gimme something positive to say. I still believe in you.)
"It's My Life." *SNORT* Heh. Nice. Subtle, Jon. "It's my life, my time to find the answers..." Mm-hmm. Standard "take time to smell the roses" ballad with painfully earnest lyrics. "Sometimes I miss my family, I wonder what they're doing right now." Hmm. Hopefully listening to Sufjan Stevens and not swearing they don't know you. Kidding aside, this track wasn't as bad as the others. Weak praise, that.
"Willing to Try." Uh oh, beware the single piano. If he says "I'll be there for you," I swear I'll die. Ah, here comes the familiarly loud tones of the rock accompaniment. ("Here I go" count: 4, currently.) "I'm not gonna change who I am, but I ain't gonna give up the fight..." Ouch. Take that, haters. (Cliche check: "when it's all said and done," "come of age," "we only get one life," "if you believe in me") Oooh, BACK to the single piano for four measures of the chorus reprise, and then he SHOCKS us with the slam-bang rock-out of the last two choruses.
"Valley of Angels." What is this? This doesn't sound at all like a Bon Jovi/Nickelback title. And the song itself? Piano only for the first verse and chorus, choral "ooh"-ing behind the chorus and background repetition and response during the second verse. The lyrics aren't brilliant, but they're not noxious. There is a small guitar solo for a bridge. But this song actually is halfway decent. The reason? Instead of beating it to death as a power ballad, they "took it to church" a bit, gave it some sway. Well done, Bo. Despite evil outside influences, this song didn't suck. Hoo-rah.
Final Judgement: Too much Bon Jovi/Kroeger-inspired lameness corrupts another young singer. Bo is a great vocalist, who needs to either figure out how to write his own music (and)/or find a better collaborator. Out of five stars, I give this a solid two--one because I like Bo's voice and the other because of the last track. I think I'm being generous... You know what? I am. Half-star deduction for the appalling song-titles. So there you are, kids. 1.5/5
Time to get out of the desert and into the sun.
I don't know why, but today I feel like I'm shaking off dust. Like I've been asleep. Like I've been buried.
I'm now feeling the urge to pick up a notebook and go for a walk. Not literally, but mentally.
I don't want to overstate, but I think this is a good thing.
Saw the Narnia film this weekend. It was everything I expected it to be (i.e., pretty great), so I certainly recommend that.
I'm hungry. Time for lunch.
As for what's next... I don't know. But I'm curious. Curious is good.
I'm now feeling the urge to pick up a notebook and go for a walk. Not literally, but mentally.
I don't want to overstate, but I think this is a good thing.
Saw the Narnia film this weekend. It was everything I expected it to be (i.e., pretty great), so I certainly recommend that.
I'm hungry. Time for lunch.
As for what's next... I don't know. But I'm curious. Curious is good.
Thursday, December 08, 2005
filler: song lyric post
I'm thinking of posting something a little later about the dating scene.
In the meantime, here's the lyrics to one of the most beautiful songs I've heard in a very long time.
===
i was on your porch, the smoke sank into my skin
so i came inside to be with you
and we talked all night, about everything we could imagine
cause come the morning i'll be gone
and as our eyes start to close
i turn to you and i let you know that i love you
well my dad was sick and my mom she cared for him
her love it nursed him back to life
and me i ran, i couldnt even look at him
for fear i'd have to say goodbye
and as i start to leave
he grabs me by the shoulder and he tells me
what's left to lose, you've done enough
and if you fail well then you fail but not to us
'cause these last three years, i know they've been hard
but now its time to get out of the desert and into the sun
even if it's alone
so now here i sit, in a hotel off of sunset
my thoughts bounce off of sam's guitar
and that's the way it's been, ever since we were kids
but now, now weve got something to prove
and i, i can see their eyes
but tell me something, can they see mine
cause what's left to lose, i've done enough
and if i fail well then i fail but i gave it a shot
and these last three years, i know they've been hard
but now it's time to get out of the desert and into the sun
even if it's alone
i was on your porch last nite, the smoke it sank into my skin
("On Your Porch" by The Format)
In the meantime, here's the lyrics to one of the most beautiful songs I've heard in a very long time.
===
i was on your porch, the smoke sank into my skin
so i came inside to be with you
and we talked all night, about everything we could imagine
cause come the morning i'll be gone
and as our eyes start to close
i turn to you and i let you know that i love you
well my dad was sick and my mom she cared for him
her love it nursed him back to life
and me i ran, i couldnt even look at him
for fear i'd have to say goodbye
and as i start to leave
he grabs me by the shoulder and he tells me
what's left to lose, you've done enough
and if you fail well then you fail but not to us
'cause these last three years, i know they've been hard
but now its time to get out of the desert and into the sun
even if it's alone
so now here i sit, in a hotel off of sunset
my thoughts bounce off of sam's guitar
and that's the way it's been, ever since we were kids
but now, now weve got something to prove
and i, i can see their eyes
but tell me something, can they see mine
cause what's left to lose, i've done enough
and if i fail well then i fail but i gave it a shot
and these last three years, i know they've been hard
but now it's time to get out of the desert and into the sun
even if it's alone
i was on your porch last nite, the smoke it sank into my skin
("On Your Porch" by The Format)
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Tinkering... (Updated)
I'm gonna try out a new blog template design. It may be up in a few days. Thought I'd give you a heads-up.
Just so you don't, you know, freak out or anything.
UPDATE: Okay, so I just decided to trot it out here and take it for a spin, instead of waiting. I have to say--I like it quite a bit. Thoughts?
Just so you don't, you know, freak out or anything.
UPDATE: Okay, so I just decided to trot it out here and take it for a spin, instead of waiting. I have to say--I like it quite a bit. Thoughts?
Hehehe...
This may be a bit pointed--but it's still pretty dead-on and good for a chuckle.
You Might Be Emerging If...
Almost half of it applied to me--does that make me half-emergent?
(hat-tip: Team Redd)
You Might Be Emerging If...
Almost half of it applied to me--does that make me half-emergent?
(hat-tip: Team Redd)
Monday, December 05, 2005
And in the end, the blog you take is equal to the blog you make.
[opening music: "Let's Get This Party Started" by TobyMac]
This music doesn't feel right. Hang on.
[new opening music: "Everybody's Gotta Learn Sometimes" by Beck]
there you go.
the work week is not starting off well. ugh to the work situation. too many emails. too many phone calls. too many doctors and nurses with necks outstretched and maws gaping, demanding my assistance like so many bald baby birds. here you go, doc; lemme vomit that rewrite right up for ya.
I really want to take a vacation right now. From myself as much as anything else. I'm tired of wrestling with my own inadequacies.
(No need to take away the forks and knives, Will. You're getting awful jumpy, dude.)
I'm just tired. I'm tired of needing to be made new. I'm frustrated.
And I hate being so wasteful. Ach, money issues. To paraphrase Ulysses Everett McGill: damn, i'm in a tight spot.
Pressing on. That's what I'm doing. Pressing on.
On a good note, I had an apple and a banana in my lunch today. And I ate them both. So that's good. I'm trying to be better about the nutritional things.
Baby sister's birthday party was yesterday. It was fun. The party place had giant inflatable games--great slides and a moonwalk and a giant inflatable "volcano" fifteen feet high for the kids (and their parents) to climb. My mom told me to go ahead and play with everyone else. I wouldn't. I was afraid of doing damage. Broken chairs and squeaky floors, I can deal with. Being mistaken for a professional sumo wrestler, I can survive. (No really, it happened.) But popping a fifteen-foot-tall inflatable game would be more than my ego could withstand.
This coming weekend is sister's actual birthday, dad's birthday, the opening of CON:TLTWATW, and other fun things. Should be interesting.
I'm in a funk for some reason. Ugh. Gotta get out of this mess.
(btw, sarah, yes, I am glad you comment. if nothing else, you keep me on my toes. and i need that.)
[closing music: "colorful" by the verve pipe]
This music doesn't feel right. Hang on.
[new opening music: "Everybody's Gotta Learn Sometimes" by Beck]
there you go.
the work week is not starting off well. ugh to the work situation. too many emails. too many phone calls. too many doctors and nurses with necks outstretched and maws gaping, demanding my assistance like so many bald baby birds. here you go, doc; lemme vomit that rewrite right up for ya.
I really want to take a vacation right now. From myself as much as anything else. I'm tired of wrestling with my own inadequacies.
(No need to take away the forks and knives, Will. You're getting awful jumpy, dude.)
I'm just tired. I'm tired of needing to be made new. I'm frustrated.
And I hate being so wasteful. Ach, money issues. To paraphrase Ulysses Everett McGill: damn, i'm in a tight spot.
Pressing on. That's what I'm doing. Pressing on.
On a good note, I had an apple and a banana in my lunch today. And I ate them both. So that's good. I'm trying to be better about the nutritional things.
Baby sister's birthday party was yesterday. It was fun. The party place had giant inflatable games--great slides and a moonwalk and a giant inflatable "volcano" fifteen feet high for the kids (and their parents) to climb. My mom told me to go ahead and play with everyone else. I wouldn't. I was afraid of doing damage. Broken chairs and squeaky floors, I can deal with. Being mistaken for a professional sumo wrestler, I can survive. (No really, it happened.) But popping a fifteen-foot-tall inflatable game would be more than my ego could withstand.
This coming weekend is sister's actual birthday, dad's birthday, the opening of CON:TLTWATW, and other fun things. Should be interesting.
I'm in a funk for some reason. Ugh. Gotta get out of this mess.
(btw, sarah, yes, I am glad you comment. if nothing else, you keep me on my toes. and i need that.)
[closing music: "colorful" by the verve pipe]
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Two serious things to chew on...
1) Today is World Aids Day. Do something (besides feel bad).
Start here, if you don't know what else to do.
===
2) I found this recently. Funny how something written more than thirty years ago seems so relevant.
Some song lyrics to chew on, by Larry Norman:
"The Great American Novel"
I was born and raised an orphan
In a land that once was free
In a land that poured its love out on the moon
And I grew up in the shadows
Of your silos filled with grain
But you never helped to fill my empty spoon
And when I was ten you murdered law
With courtroom politics
And you learned to make a lie sound just like truth
But I know you better now
And I don't fall for all your tricks
And you've lost the one advantage of my youth
You kill a black man at midnight
Just for talking to your daughter
Then you make his wife your mistress
And you leave her without water
And the sheet you wear upon your face
Is the sheet your children sleep on
At every meal you say a prayer
You don't believe but still you keep on
And your money says “In God We Trust”
But it’s against the law to pray in school
You say we beat the Russians to the moon
And I say you starved your children to do it
You are far across the ocean
But the war is not your own
And while you're winning theirs
You’re gonna lose the one at home
Do you really think the only way
To bring about the peace
Is to sacrifice your children
And kill all your enemies
The politicians all make speeches
While the news men all take note
And they exaggerate the issues
As they shove them down our throats
Is it really up to them
Whether this country sinks or floats
Well I wonder who would lead us
If none of us would vote
Well my phone is tapped and my lips are chapped
From whispering through the fence
You know every move I make
Or is that just coincidence
Well you try to make my way of life
A little less like jail
If I promise to make tapes and slides
And send them through the mail
And your money says “In God We Trust”
But it’s against the law to pray in school
You say we beat the Russians to the moon
And I say you starved your children to do it
You say all men are equal, all men are brothers
Then why are the rich more equal than others
Don’t ask me for the answer, I’ve only got one
That a man leaves his darkness when he follows the Son.
(hat-tip: Neil Craigan.)
Start here, if you don't know what else to do.
===
2) I found this recently. Funny how something written more than thirty years ago seems so relevant.
Some song lyrics to chew on, by Larry Norman:
"The Great American Novel"
I was born and raised an orphan
In a land that once was free
In a land that poured its love out on the moon
And I grew up in the shadows
Of your silos filled with grain
But you never helped to fill my empty spoon
And when I was ten you murdered law
With courtroom politics
And you learned to make a lie sound just like truth
But I know you better now
And I don't fall for all your tricks
And you've lost the one advantage of my youth
You kill a black man at midnight
Just for talking to your daughter
Then you make his wife your mistress
And you leave her without water
And the sheet you wear upon your face
Is the sheet your children sleep on
At every meal you say a prayer
You don't believe but still you keep on
And your money says “In God We Trust”
But it’s against the law to pray in school
You say we beat the Russians to the moon
And I say you starved your children to do it
You are far across the ocean
But the war is not your own
And while you're winning theirs
You’re gonna lose the one at home
Do you really think the only way
To bring about the peace
Is to sacrifice your children
And kill all your enemies
The politicians all make speeches
While the news men all take note
And they exaggerate the issues
As they shove them down our throats
Is it really up to them
Whether this country sinks or floats
Well I wonder who would lead us
If none of us would vote
Well my phone is tapped and my lips are chapped
From whispering through the fence
You know every move I make
Or is that just coincidence
Well you try to make my way of life
A little less like jail
If I promise to make tapes and slides
And send them through the mail
And your money says “In God We Trust”
But it’s against the law to pray in school
You say we beat the Russians to the moon
And I say you starved your children to do it
You say all men are equal, all men are brothers
Then why are the rich more equal than others
Don’t ask me for the answer, I’ve only got one
That a man leaves his darkness when he follows the Son.
(hat-tip: Neil Craigan.)
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
"Honesty is such a lonely word..."
(ten points to who can identify the title)
[file under: doubt, introspection]
There's a flame-war in its last legs between two Christian bloggers. I won't go into too much detail or take sides, but I want to address one of the issues brought up. One of the bloggers is a pastor by profession who writes really intensely personal, confessional blog posts full of doubt and fear and sound and fury. The argument between this person, his opponent, and their various supporters became about whether a person's online persona should match their in-person persona. For instance, the pastor said that he certainly doesn't say from the pulpit the things he writes online. The other cried hypocrisy.
This brings up a serious question that deserves some consideration. If I write things online that I wouldn't want my Sunday School class to read, isn't it hypocritical in some way? Should I be writing things for public consumption that I feel the need to hide from those closest to me?
The knee-jerk reaction I have is, "What am I gonna do, sanitize my writing so that it's so phony that no one has any use for it?" Of course I'm not gonna do that. But that's not really the issue. The question isn't, should I change my writing; the question is, should I change myself?
I have tried to be as honest as possible with you all in this forum. I have shared my fears, my frustrations, my concerns, even my stream-of-consciousness thoughts on my "crazy, pent-up days." If I have ever edited myself, it has only been because what I was saying shamed me too much when I saw it in print, or I realized it would be of more harm than benefit to you for reading it. I have done my best not to harm with my words.
The real issue, I'm starting to see, is not necessarily that I'm a "different" person online than i am in real life. It's that the real person I am, in both settings, is a person I'm not really proud of. A person full of selfishness, laziness, apathy, pride, blame, anger, and immaturity.
I know that some of you will quickly respond that I'm a decent guy, a nice guy, I'm doing my best, nobody's perfect, and so on. And I want you to know that I really appreciate your encouragement. It really means a lot to me.
But being a good enough guy isn't good enough anymore. I'm tired of being just okay. I can't shake the feeling that I've been called to something more, something higher, and at this point in my life, I'm treading water, wasting time.
I've become dissatisfied with settling. I think this is supposed to be encouraging, like I'm on the brink of some kind of personal change or growth or something. But all it is so far, is discouraging and scary.
I'm gonna continue to be as real as possible with you all, in this context. I will try harder to let my speech be "full of grace, seasoned with salt," but I'll still be honest.
Just forgive me if I grimace a bit as I share all of this honesty.
Blogging isn't just a letter; it's a mirror. Once the words are there before me, in black and white, it's hard to hide from what they show. My hope is that I won't be the man who sees his image and forgets. I want to be able to use this experience to see where I'm at, and what I need to pay attention to in my own heart. Maybe then, I'll grow into the person I want to be. Maybe then, I'll get to where I'm going, or at least get moving that way.
[file under: doubt, introspection]
There's a flame-war in its last legs between two Christian bloggers. I won't go into too much detail or take sides, but I want to address one of the issues brought up. One of the bloggers is a pastor by profession who writes really intensely personal, confessional blog posts full of doubt and fear and sound and fury. The argument between this person, his opponent, and their various supporters became about whether a person's online persona should match their in-person persona. For instance, the pastor said that he certainly doesn't say from the pulpit the things he writes online. The other cried hypocrisy.
This brings up a serious question that deserves some consideration. If I write things online that I wouldn't want my Sunday School class to read, isn't it hypocritical in some way? Should I be writing things for public consumption that I feel the need to hide from those closest to me?
The knee-jerk reaction I have is, "What am I gonna do, sanitize my writing so that it's so phony that no one has any use for it?" Of course I'm not gonna do that. But that's not really the issue. The question isn't, should I change my writing; the question is, should I change myself?
I have tried to be as honest as possible with you all in this forum. I have shared my fears, my frustrations, my concerns, even my stream-of-consciousness thoughts on my "crazy, pent-up days." If I have ever edited myself, it has only been because what I was saying shamed me too much when I saw it in print, or I realized it would be of more harm than benefit to you for reading it. I have done my best not to harm with my words.
The real issue, I'm starting to see, is not necessarily that I'm a "different" person online than i am in real life. It's that the real person I am, in both settings, is a person I'm not really proud of. A person full of selfishness, laziness, apathy, pride, blame, anger, and immaturity.
I know that some of you will quickly respond that I'm a decent guy, a nice guy, I'm doing my best, nobody's perfect, and so on. And I want you to know that I really appreciate your encouragement. It really means a lot to me.
But being a good enough guy isn't good enough anymore. I'm tired of being just okay. I can't shake the feeling that I've been called to something more, something higher, and at this point in my life, I'm treading water, wasting time.
I've become dissatisfied with settling. I think this is supposed to be encouraging, like I'm on the brink of some kind of personal change or growth or something. But all it is so far, is discouraging and scary.
I'm gonna continue to be as real as possible with you all, in this context. I will try harder to let my speech be "full of grace, seasoned with salt," but I'll still be honest.
Just forgive me if I grimace a bit as I share all of this honesty.
Blogging isn't just a letter; it's a mirror. Once the words are there before me, in black and white, it's hard to hide from what they show. My hope is that I won't be the man who sees his image and forgets. I want to be able to use this experience to see where I'm at, and what I need to pay attention to in my own heart. Maybe then, I'll grow into the person I want to be. Maybe then, I'll get to where I'm going, or at least get moving that way.
Something Cool
I Samuel 22:1-2:
On the run, hunted, harried, David finds a cave. His family hears of this and meets him there.
Then, the Word says that all who were "in distress or in debt or discontented" gathered there.
This really spoke to me the other day.
For those who are called to lead God's people in some fashion, that calling of leadership doesn't stop when we are going through hard times. Even in our grimmest hour, we are still called to lead, and we can give guidance and encouragement to others.
I don't know about you, but I find this encouraging. As a Sunday School teacher, I sometimes feel like a big hypocrite, and the Enemy starts whispering in my ear that I have no right to lead people. I'm troubled and hounded and harried by what's going on in my life, and I think, "How can I be a leader when my life seems so messed up and jumbled right now?"
But through these two verses--which could easily be seen by someone else as "filler"--God lifted me up a little bit. It was as if He said, "Look Dave, even my best guys have rough weeks and months. Times and seasons where it feels like they are failures, or a step away from everything crashing in on them. Even in those times, I call them to lead, and empower them to lead."
So here's something cool for you, especially those of you who are "leaders" in some way (even if it's just as the person your friends go to for counsel): Don't let your circumstances make you doubt your calling. Trust in the One who called you. He'll give you the endurance to persevere.
1 David left Gath and escaped to the cave of Adullam. When his brothers and his father's household heard about it, they went down to him there. 2 All those who were in distress or in debt or discontented gathered around him, and he became their leader. About four hundred men were with him.Lemme set the scene. Saul, the king of Israel, has been unjustly turned against David, who was anointed to be the next king. He has tried to kill David a few times, though David did nothing to deserve it, and is currently hunting him throughout the countryside. David has been on the run, and even fled to an enemy country to escape Saul for a while.
On the run, hunted, harried, David finds a cave. His family hears of this and meets him there.
Then, the Word says that all who were "in distress or in debt or discontented" gathered there.
This really spoke to me the other day.
For those who are called to lead God's people in some fashion, that calling of leadership doesn't stop when we are going through hard times. Even in our grimmest hour, we are still called to lead, and we can give guidance and encouragement to others.
I don't know about you, but I find this encouraging. As a Sunday School teacher, I sometimes feel like a big hypocrite, and the Enemy starts whispering in my ear that I have no right to lead people. I'm troubled and hounded and harried by what's going on in my life, and I think, "How can I be a leader when my life seems so messed up and jumbled right now?"
But through these two verses--which could easily be seen by someone else as "filler"--God lifted me up a little bit. It was as if He said, "Look Dave, even my best guys have rough weeks and months. Times and seasons where it feels like they are failures, or a step away from everything crashing in on them. Even in those times, I call them to lead, and empower them to lead."
So here's something cool for you, especially those of you who are "leaders" in some way (even if it's just as the person your friends go to for counsel): Don't let your circumstances make you doubt your calling. Trust in the One who called you. He'll give you the endurance to persevere.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Outrage (edited)
This story makes me so ******* furious that I could spit blood. I'm physically ill right now.
You know what REALLY sent me over the edge?
I am so... My hands are shaking. Really trembling. I'm so upset.
It's MURDER, Amanda. God has no place in that.
Of course, he probably has no place in profanity-laced blogposts either. So what do i know.
I just... I know I'm gonna regret this, but sometimes I look at our culture and I think, "How can we consider ourselves enlightened? How can we consider ourselves God-fearing in ANY WAY, when this holocaust happens in the name of Convenience, and the newspapers report it as if it were somehow HEROIC? How are we any different than the barbarians and pagans of the past?"
Jerry Falwell may be a crazy bastard, but he's got one thing right: we are heading in the wrong direction.
Welcome to Nineveh, folks. Welcome to Babylon. Enjoy the ride.
You know what REALLY sent me over the edge?
"I've been praying a lot and that's been a real source of strength for me. I really believe God has a plan for us all. I have a choice, and that's part of my plan."
I am so... My hands are shaking. Really trembling. I'm so upset.
It's MURDER, Amanda. God has no place in that.
Of course, he probably has no place in profanity-laced blogposts either. So what do i know.
I just... I know I'm gonna regret this, but sometimes I look at our culture and I think, "How can we consider ourselves enlightened? How can we consider ourselves God-fearing in ANY WAY, when this holocaust happens in the name of Convenience, and the newspapers report it as if it were somehow HEROIC? How are we any different than the barbarians and pagans of the past?"
Jerry Falwell may be a crazy bastard, but he's got one thing right: we are heading in the wrong direction.
Welcome to Nineveh, folks. Welcome to Babylon. Enjoy the ride.
A Christian Literary Family Guide to Finding God in the Spiritual Side of the Christian Message of the Philosophy of PBB... for Unbelievers
This may just be me being a lit snob (or church snob--it kind of blends in this case).
I've found, in recent weeks, a veritable outbreak of books that claim to peel back the layers of mystery surrounding the Chronicles of Narnia, and reveal the super double-plus secret (gasp!) Christian messages contained therein.
Literally dozens of books seem to have been written on the subject. I noticed the same thing occuring (though not in this magnitude) when The Lord of the Rings was filmed. Back then, I could understand it. LOTR is primarily a fantasy epic, and while I'd argue that spiritual themes are certainly present in the books, they aren't that obvious sometimes.
On the other hand.
Let's just pull something out of the air, shall we? How about: Aslan the God-like Lion dies in place of Edmund, and then comes back to life and defeats the Enemy.
Hmm. I wonder who THAT's about. (And don't say The Fisher King.)
Yet here we are, in a deluge of books about the "hidden, secret themes" in Lewis' painfully obvious allegorical works. (And if you want to pull quotes that say he didn't really mean them to be, fine, but I cry BS anyway.)
Maybe it's just me. Maybe it's a situation like one of those Stare-o-gram pictures, in which there is a hidden picture amongst the lines and squiggles. Once you see it, you can't un-see it. Or to cop another, greater Man's line: If you have ears to hear, you're gonna hear it.
So, sure, for those who aren't steeped in Christian tradition, such a guidebook might be helpful. But do you know what would be more helpful? Here, I'll whisper it in your ear. What would be most helpful and effective in explaining the Gospel message in CON to unbelievers is...
[Christians.]
Not books. Not advertising campaigns.
When I see these books in the Christian bookstores (and almost nowhere else), I have to admit, all I can think is, "Great, another book that does the thinking for us--way to go, church!" Because I believe that, if you have ears to hear, you're gonna hear it. And if your ears are not attuned to hearing the truth of God outside of your cathedral walls, you don't need to read a book about a book. You need to read the book itself. And maybe the Other Book along side it. You need to sit next to a lake at dawn, and see the mist rise on the water. You need to listen to "The Joshua Tree." You need to read "Les Miserables." You need to train yourself to listen for truth on cicada wings. Because He reveals himself to us in the sunset and in the sunburnt troubador. In the pulpit and the pen of the honest author.
Enough blather.
If you read these types of books, the "finding the hidden meaning of" books books, don't take this as a slight. I'm really not making fun of you, I promise. I'm just saying, you know, you may not need that at all. Stretch yourself a bit more, and you'll get there on your own. You've got a Good Teacher and Counselor to walk the path with you.
I've found, in recent weeks, a veritable outbreak of books that claim to peel back the layers of mystery surrounding the Chronicles of Narnia, and reveal the super double-plus secret (gasp!) Christian messages contained therein.
Literally dozens of books seem to have been written on the subject. I noticed the same thing occuring (though not in this magnitude) when The Lord of the Rings was filmed. Back then, I could understand it. LOTR is primarily a fantasy epic, and while I'd argue that spiritual themes are certainly present in the books, they aren't that obvious sometimes.
On the other hand.
Let's just pull something out of the air, shall we? How about: Aslan the God-like Lion dies in place of Edmund, and then comes back to life and defeats the Enemy.
Hmm. I wonder who THAT's about. (And don't say The Fisher King.)
Yet here we are, in a deluge of books about the "hidden, secret themes" in Lewis' painfully obvious allegorical works. (And if you want to pull quotes that say he didn't really mean them to be, fine, but I cry BS anyway.)
Maybe it's just me. Maybe it's a situation like one of those Stare-o-gram pictures, in which there is a hidden picture amongst the lines and squiggles. Once you see it, you can't un-see it. Or to cop another, greater Man's line: If you have ears to hear, you're gonna hear it.
So, sure, for those who aren't steeped in Christian tradition, such a guidebook might be helpful. But do you know what would be more helpful? Here, I'll whisper it in your ear. What would be most helpful and effective in explaining the Gospel message in CON to unbelievers is...
[Christians.]
Not books. Not advertising campaigns.
When I see these books in the Christian bookstores (and almost nowhere else), I have to admit, all I can think is, "Great, another book that does the thinking for us--way to go, church!" Because I believe that, if you have ears to hear, you're gonna hear it. And if your ears are not attuned to hearing the truth of God outside of your cathedral walls, you don't need to read a book about a book. You need to read the book itself. And maybe the Other Book along side it. You need to sit next to a lake at dawn, and see the mist rise on the water. You need to listen to "The Joshua Tree." You need to read "Les Miserables." You need to train yourself to listen for truth on cicada wings. Because He reveals himself to us in the sunset and in the sunburnt troubador. In the pulpit and the pen of the honest author.
Enough blather.
If you read these types of books, the "finding the hidden meaning of" books books, don't take this as a slight. I'm really not making fun of you, I promise. I'm just saying, you know, you may not need that at all. Stretch yourself a bit more, and you'll get there on your own. You've got a Good Teacher and Counselor to walk the path with you.
Cleansing the palate
God is good. He provides something beautiful to dispel the gloom and unpleasantness of earlier. (See earlier.)
Thanks to the effervescent Amanda, here's a link to Quintus, who has .zip files of Sufjan Stevens' three Christmas EPs. Highly highly recommended. I'm listening to his version of "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing" and it's just lovely. Makes me happy. Makes me calm. All will be well, and all things will be well, and all manner of things will be well.
I needed this. Thank you, Manders. Very much, thank you.
Thanks to the effervescent Amanda, here's a link to Quintus, who has .zip files of Sufjan Stevens' three Christmas EPs. Highly highly recommended. I'm listening to his version of "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing" and it's just lovely. Makes me happy. Makes me calm. All will be well, and all things will be well, and all manner of things will be well.
I needed this. Thank you, Manders. Very much, thank you.
Monday, November 28, 2005
Writerly Thoughts
Usually, I find myself moving in and out of times of inspiration. I'm moving into one right now. This usually means that no matter what I'm doing, I'd rather be writing, yet when I sit down to write, I can't put anything coherent together.
Yet, I find myself throughout the day muttering poetic or flowery phrases under my breath. It's like Writer Tourettes. In the middle of very grounded, reasonable emailing to work colleagues, my mind is filled with elusive, fluttering words and descriptions of moonlight or cold or whatever. I can't even grasp them long enough to jot them down. As quickly as I see them, they disappear.
There are even snatches of melody and song lyrics. Of course, I'm not musical, so I can't even remember the tunes.
This kind of overactive "lit" gland is frustrating. And terribly exciting.
You scribblers out there: this ever happen to you?
[by the way, i may be moving back into "Taylor House." renovations may be needed, of course. i'm considering switching to first-person, just to shake things up creatively. so that's exciting.]
Yet, I find myself throughout the day muttering poetic or flowery phrases under my breath. It's like Writer Tourettes. In the middle of very grounded, reasonable emailing to work colleagues, my mind is filled with elusive, fluttering words and descriptions of moonlight or cold or whatever. I can't even grasp them long enough to jot them down. As quickly as I see them, they disappear.
There are even snatches of melody and song lyrics. Of course, I'm not musical, so I can't even remember the tunes.
This kind of overactive "lit" gland is frustrating. And terribly exciting.
You scribblers out there: this ever happen to you?
[by the way, i may be moving back into "Taylor House." renovations may be needed, of course. i'm considering switching to first-person, just to shake things up creatively. so that's exciting.]
Where to begin?
[opening music: "Come on! Feel the Illinoise!" by Sufjan Stevens]
There's so much I feel like I want to say. Not much of it will be of any substance, I'm sure, but I'm here to amuse, more than enlighten. If I can hit the latter, I'm pleased.
So expect some scattershot thoughts for the first several days, until I can recapture the circadian rhythm of blogging again.
To begin: some quick notes.
===
(This could be a post of its own. Ah well.)
I'm now about 65% decided NOT to switch to Typepad. Nothing against the service, which (though unfamiliar) is certainly dandy in its own right. It just came down to a very simple question posed to me by a level-headed young Kansan--"Why?"
Um. I don't know. "A perfect reason to do anything!"
Actually, I do know. It all started with my friend Trevor and his building (and later neglect) of his own domain. He actually made tee-shirts with the site addy on them. Snazzy in a homemade retro way. I thought, "That's cool, I'd like to do that." The seed of the idea was planted. I would develop "slg-dot-com" into a brand. I'd use Cafepress or something similar to create items with witty, snarky phrases. I would become a known "somebody" in the blogging world (maybe not a Dooce, but someone known widely by their moniker). I would hawk SLG gear. It would be wicked rad to be "that guy."
As this mad plan grew, I realized that it would require a few key things. I'd actually have to create and develop this site, which meant I'd have to pay for it. Worse yet, I'd have to change my blogstyle to fit the name; because the true SLG days are kind of behind me. While still rather geeky, I'm not as lit-geeky as I once was. I certainly don't lit-blog as much as such a name would require. And while still slackery to the max, I'm not as blatantly slackery as I once was. Simply put, when put side by side, I'm more TeacherDave than SLG these days.
The next question is, "What do I want to use the blog for?" Well, basically what I'm doing now. If I get a digital camera in the future, I'll start posting pictures (though not necessarily of me, so don't ask), but I can do that on Blogger for free anyway.
So, the last question is, "Is there a clear reason why switching to Typepad is worth the cost and the trouble of transferring data?" (Rick, you may be able to answer this, having just made the switch.) Because right now, for my intents and purposes, Blogger is still fine. A little wonky from time to time, but the bugs have been worked out, in my mind.
If you have a driving passion for me to be Typepad bound, drop a comment. I have until a week from Friday to delete the free trial account at TP.
===
It kind of freaks me out that the song "John Wayne Gacy, Jr." is so melodic and beautiful, while being so lyrically chilling.
(Needless to say, I picked up this album this weekend. Um, yes. Once again, Marty's pick is a good one. Current fave tracks: Chicago, and Man of Metropolis.)
===
Things like this make me thankful for the internet. Read the whole site. Holy cow.
(And if you don't get the joke, I weep for you. Go here.)
===
I'm wicked ill. Okay, maybe not "wicked" ill anymore, but still rather under the weather. Had to go to the freakin expensive off-hours clinic on Friday. Yet I'm well enough to work. I thought I could come in, cough badly, and be sent home. Unfortunately, my boss has a similar infirmity, so he's less than sympathetic.
What infirmity? I'll link it to spare the squeamish. Nothing serious or troubling. Let's just say massive antibiotics, decongestants, and other meds are involved. I'll be ship-shape in a week or so.
===
This holiday weekend involved shopping of all sorts, too much money being spent, and more fiscal irresponsibility on the part of yours truly. On the upside, I picked up a few CDs, a book, a PS2 game, and three bargain-rack movies. And all I have left to buy is my baby sister's Christmas present (I'm thinking this) and my dad's birthday present (this, if I can find it on sale). So that's good.
===
Watched two worthwhile (for different reasons) films this weekend. The first is "Walk the Line." I'll give my thoughts on that one their own post later.
The other is "The Warriors." No, really.
I can't pinpoint exactly why I enjoyed this campy, violent film as much as I did. Maybe because it was so dated, so archaic, and so knowingly fanciful. Maybe I just enjoyed the idea of a street gang in matching baseball uniforms with evil clown facepaint, weilding baseball bats. Maybe it was Cyrus's street preacher delivery of the line, "Can you dig it?!?" which made it more of a command or a cheer than a question. Or the other famous line from the film, "Warriors... come out and play-yay!" which became more strained and corny and creepy every time the guy repeated it. Maybe it was the almost-invisible cameos of Lynn Thigpen as the radio DJ who acted as a Greek chorus in the film, describing the events that transpire and hinting at what's to come.
Honestly, I did pick up shades of Homer in this film, which I didn't expect at all. Or at least of Greek legend.
If you are so inclined, go ahead and check out the original (there's an upcoming remake which looks like it will destroy and cheapen the cool aspects of the original story, in an attempt to make it more realistic--something the original film rejects from the word go).
Two things: heed the rating. (I didn't see the director's cut, so I can't vouch for that one.) And take it for what it is. You may enjoy it as much as I did.
===
I guess I'm expected to work. More later.
[closing music: "They are Night Zombies! They are Neighbors! They have come back from the Dead! Ahhhh!" by Sufjan Stevens]
There's so much I feel like I want to say. Not much of it will be of any substance, I'm sure, but I'm here to amuse, more than enlighten. If I can hit the latter, I'm pleased.
So expect some scattershot thoughts for the first several days, until I can recapture the circadian rhythm of blogging again.
To begin: some quick notes.
===
(This could be a post of its own. Ah well.)
I'm now about 65% decided NOT to switch to Typepad. Nothing against the service, which (though unfamiliar) is certainly dandy in its own right. It just came down to a very simple question posed to me by a level-headed young Kansan--"Why?"
Um. I don't know. "A perfect reason to do anything!"
Actually, I do know. It all started with my friend Trevor and his building (and later neglect) of his own domain. He actually made tee-shirts with the site addy on them. Snazzy in a homemade retro way. I thought, "That's cool, I'd like to do that." The seed of the idea was planted. I would develop "slg-dot-com" into a brand. I'd use Cafepress or something similar to create items with witty, snarky phrases. I would become a known "somebody" in the blogging world (maybe not a Dooce, but someone known widely by their moniker). I would hawk SLG gear. It would be wicked rad to be "that guy."
As this mad plan grew, I realized that it would require a few key things. I'd actually have to create and develop this site, which meant I'd have to pay for it. Worse yet, I'd have to change my blogstyle to fit the name; because the true SLG days are kind of behind me. While still rather geeky, I'm not as lit-geeky as I once was. I certainly don't lit-blog as much as such a name would require. And while still slackery to the max, I'm not as blatantly slackery as I once was. Simply put, when put side by side, I'm more TeacherDave than SLG these days.
The next question is, "What do I want to use the blog for?" Well, basically what I'm doing now. If I get a digital camera in the future, I'll start posting pictures (though not necessarily of me, so don't ask), but I can do that on Blogger for free anyway.
So, the last question is, "Is there a clear reason why switching to Typepad is worth the cost and the trouble of transferring data?" (Rick, you may be able to answer this, having just made the switch.) Because right now, for my intents and purposes, Blogger is still fine. A little wonky from time to time, but the bugs have been worked out, in my mind.
If you have a driving passion for me to be Typepad bound, drop a comment. I have until a week from Friday to delete the free trial account at TP.
===
It kind of freaks me out that the song "John Wayne Gacy, Jr." is so melodic and beautiful, while being so lyrically chilling.
(Needless to say, I picked up this album this weekend. Um, yes. Once again, Marty's pick is a good one. Current fave tracks: Chicago, and Man of Metropolis.)
===
Things like this make me thankful for the internet. Read the whole site. Holy cow.
(And if you don't get the joke, I weep for you. Go here.)
===
I'm wicked ill. Okay, maybe not "wicked" ill anymore, but still rather under the weather. Had to go to the freakin expensive off-hours clinic on Friday. Yet I'm well enough to work. I thought I could come in, cough badly, and be sent home. Unfortunately, my boss has a similar infirmity, so he's less than sympathetic.
What infirmity? I'll link it to spare the squeamish. Nothing serious or troubling. Let's just say massive antibiotics, decongestants, and other meds are involved. I'll be ship-shape in a week or so.
===
This holiday weekend involved shopping of all sorts, too much money being spent, and more fiscal irresponsibility on the part of yours truly. On the upside, I picked up a few CDs, a book, a PS2 game, and three bargain-rack movies. And all I have left to buy is my baby sister's Christmas present (I'm thinking this) and my dad's birthday present (this, if I can find it on sale). So that's good.
===
Watched two worthwhile (for different reasons) films this weekend. The first is "Walk the Line." I'll give my thoughts on that one their own post later.
The other is "The Warriors." No, really.
I can't pinpoint exactly why I enjoyed this campy, violent film as much as I did. Maybe because it was so dated, so archaic, and so knowingly fanciful. Maybe I just enjoyed the idea of a street gang in matching baseball uniforms with evil clown facepaint, weilding baseball bats. Maybe it was Cyrus's street preacher delivery of the line, "Can you dig it?!?" which made it more of a command or a cheer than a question. Or the other famous line from the film, "Warriors... come out and play-yay!" which became more strained and corny and creepy every time the guy repeated it. Maybe it was the almost-invisible cameos of Lynn Thigpen as the radio DJ who acted as a Greek chorus in the film, describing the events that transpire and hinting at what's to come.
Honestly, I did pick up shades of Homer in this film, which I didn't expect at all. Or at least of Greek legend.
If you are so inclined, go ahead and check out the original (there's an upcoming remake which looks like it will destroy and cheapen the cool aspects of the original story, in an attempt to make it more realistic--something the original film rejects from the word go).
Two things: heed the rating. (I didn't see the director's cut, so I can't vouch for that one.) And take it for what it is. You may enjoy it as much as I did.
===
I guess I'm expected to work. More later.
[closing music: "They are Night Zombies! They are Neighbors! They have come back from the Dead! Ahhhh!" by Sufjan Stevens]
I'll catch you up during lunch
I have two things to finish before lunch. During lunch, we'll get all caught up. Or at least, we'll start getting all caught up.
Hope your Thanksgiving was good.
--d.
Hope your Thanksgiving was good.
--d.
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Happy Day Before Thanksgiving!
Just wanted to say hi and happy holiday.
Be thankful. Tell the people you love that you appreciate them.
Have a great weekend.
PBB Reader Comment Poll:
What is your favorite non-turkey Thanksgiving food?
Mine is my mom's cheesed onions. So bad for you, yet so, so good.
Be thankful. Tell the people you love that you appreciate them.
Have a great weekend.
PBB Reader Comment Poll:
What is your favorite non-turkey Thanksgiving food?
Mine is my mom's cheesed onions. So bad for you, yet so, so good.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
A Special Message from Bob Dylan and Johnny Cash
"It ain't me, babe,
No no no,
It ain't me, babe,
It ain't me you're looking for, babe."
No no no,
It ain't me, babe,
It ain't me you're looking for, babe."
Song of the Day
(I may have used this one before, but it gave me a boost this morning.)
I was a teen flat-liner on the joy screen
Dead in the water of life as we knew
you offered me drink,
I wanted more than a sip
But I couldn't let go of the straws
I was clinging to
Giving it over, giving it over
I was flat on my back, I'd slid 'til it hurt
Giving it over, giving it over
You put my head in the clouds
and my feet in good dirt
My head in the clouds
and my feet in good...
Dirt Devils were crowding my head
With lies they spread
They'd convinced me of
what fools know isn't true
Quick as an Outkast rhyme
you took me back in time
Back to the first love I ever knew
Giving it over, giving it over
Got my broken heart healed
and removed from its cast
Giving it over, giving it over
Yeah, I'm giving myself to
a true love at last
Giving myself to a true love at last
You don't know where
the wind's gonna blow
And since you can't take it with you
better give it away before you go
Yeah, I'm giving it over
Greed is the word, it's a verb
Wants to bind us all
Bind us together like a platinum truss
Giving it over, giving it over
I'm putting my heart into treasures that don't rust
I'm giving it all over to a face I can trust
You don't know where
the wind's gonna blow
And since you can't take it with you
Better give it away before you go
Yeah, I'm giving it over
--"Giving It Over," Newsboys
I was a teen flat-liner on the joy screen
Dead in the water of life as we knew
you offered me drink,
I wanted more than a sip
But I couldn't let go of the straws
I was clinging to
Giving it over, giving it over
I was flat on my back, I'd slid 'til it hurt
Giving it over, giving it over
You put my head in the clouds
and my feet in good dirt
My head in the clouds
and my feet in good...
Dirt Devils were crowding my head
With lies they spread
They'd convinced me of
what fools know isn't true
Quick as an Outkast rhyme
you took me back in time
Back to the first love I ever knew
Giving it over, giving it over
Got my broken heart healed
and removed from its cast
Giving it over, giving it over
Yeah, I'm giving myself to
a true love at last
Giving myself to a true love at last
You don't know where
the wind's gonna blow
And since you can't take it with you
better give it away before you go
Yeah, I'm giving it over
Greed is the word, it's a verb
Wants to bind us all
Bind us together like a platinum truss
Giving it over, giving it over
I'm putting my heart into treasures that don't rust
I'm giving it all over to a face I can trust
You don't know where
the wind's gonna blow
And since you can't take it with you
Better give it away before you go
Yeah, I'm giving it over
--"Giving It Over," Newsboys
Heh, heh, sorry about that...
Sometimes it's better not to hit "post."
I'm in a better state of mind today. Sorry to those who I alarmed by yesterday's post. My first impulse is to write that off to over-reaction, but honestly that's how I felt. However, like so many of my strong emotional impulses, it waxed and then waned. No problem.
The word for yesterday was "pent up." In many ways. But I'm okay now.
We get caught up in the emotions, we pop off, and we move on, yes?
Yes. We move on.
I'm in a better state of mind today. Sorry to those who I alarmed by yesterday's post. My first impulse is to write that off to over-reaction, but honestly that's how I felt. However, like so many of my strong emotional impulses, it waxed and then waned. No problem.
The word for yesterday was "pent up." In many ways. But I'm okay now.
We get caught up in the emotions, we pop off, and we move on, yes?
Yes. We move on.
Monday, November 21, 2005
The tension, it's killing me...
So much to do, so many things piling up to do, and all I can think about is what I want to attempt once i'm gone today.
I can hear the pounding of my boss's rubber stamp through the cubicle walls. He's being productive. I'm not.
I'm getting that fenced-in feeling again. It's creeping in at the edges of my thoughts.
In my head, I'm starting to pace. Drag my palm along the wall. Tap my fingers.
Accompanying that fenced-in feeling is the sudden impulse to break something, to smash something. Nothing too destructive, nothing too violent. Just the animal impulse to lash out.
I'm really okay. Really. I'm okay. Really.
[is this discipline? is this what it feels like?]
I'm craving an escape. Even if mental. Even if momentary.
And somehow, I feel guilty for that.
Too much to do. Got to get it all done. Got to keep those plates spinning.
Too much. Much too much.
I can hear the pounding of my boss's rubber stamp through the cubicle walls. He's being productive. I'm not.
I'm getting that fenced-in feeling again. It's creeping in at the edges of my thoughts.
In my head, I'm starting to pace. Drag my palm along the wall. Tap my fingers.
Accompanying that fenced-in feeling is the sudden impulse to break something, to smash something. Nothing too destructive, nothing too violent. Just the animal impulse to lash out.
I'm really okay. Really. I'm okay. Really.
[is this discipline? is this what it feels like?]
I'm craving an escape. Even if mental. Even if momentary.
And somehow, I feel guilty for that.
Too much to do. Got to get it all done. Got to keep those plates spinning.
Too much. Much too much.
Friday, November 18, 2005
*tapping fingers and yawning*
I feel like I owe it to you guys to write something today. But for the life of me, I have no idea what to say. There's no burning issue to get off my chest. No heavy emotions. No sudden developments on the romantic front (don't hold your breath, heh). Everything's just kinda mellow. So how about a post of whatever pops into my head? That'll work, right?
===
I had Thai food for the first time today. We always go out for lunch on Friday, and today the boss insisted on a little Thai place in the Village. It was funny, because one of the girls suggested a buffet, and the boss gave this five-minute speech on how buffets were bad, only to find out that the Thai place he had his heart set on was a buffet.
Honest reaction: meh. Certainly not worth the ten bucks (buffet and water, plus tip). I prefer my good ol' Americanized Chinese buffet much better. I did learn two things about my food preferences today: peanut sauce and curry are both on the "gross, no thanks" list.
===
After Thai, we walked a block and a half to TCBY for some fro-yo. Stopped in a few shops. Everything was overpriced but cool. One shop had some really great handmade decorative items, that ranged between "cheesy child's-art-project" and "really cool craftsmanship."
Got yogurt. Then went to Barnes and Noble for a few minutes. The boss wanted a Frapp. (I've got a cool boss.) I bought a writing magazine. I could use some inspiration.
===
I'm also reading Bird By Bird again. It's now in the "1" slot. The way I work the juggling of books in progress, is really a matter of priority. I have the book I carry in my messenger bag, that I read on the train to and from work, and at lunch. This is the "1" slot. Then the book I read at night for an hour or so, every other night. This is usually the book I'm using for SunSco, or a dating book I'm too ashamed to read in public. This is the "2" slot. If there's another book that I started and stopped because I wanted to read something else, it falls into the back-up position. That's the "3" slot. It's not necessary, and doesn't have to be filled.
I usually don't do more than three. Much past that, I just put it back on the shelf and pick it up later.
So, currently: 1) Bird by Bird; 2) the Paul book; 3) nothing yet. Maybe I'll pull out that Dylan Thomas anthology and kick it around a bit.
Upcoming reads: Pride and Prejudice; a C.S. Lewis collection that includes "Pilgrim's Regress" and "God in the Dock"; and a collection of Dickens' Christmas stories, including "Christmas Carol."
===
For those in the know, I had a three-pronged goal of personal discipline and growth that I started on the first of this month. First, health--eating good food and exercising. Second, money--properly spending and budgeting, and paying off debts. Third, writing--getting something down every day.
The other night, I left work late and didn't want to go home. I felt like being around people. So I jumped on the northbound train, instead of the southbound, and went to Chipotle for dinner. Then, after eating most of my overfull burrito, I walked nextdoor to Starbucks and got a Frapp (whatever the "medium" size is), and read my book (Karamazov--I finished it yesterday!). I got back on the train and made my way home, where I sat and watched TV for an hour or two.
It occured to me, before bed, that I had successfully NOT done any of the things I had purposed to do. I had spent money unnecessarily, on food that was bad for me; I didn't exercise that night; and I went to bed, not having written a word.
It was the trifecta of laziness. Way to go, me.
===
I know you don't care, but I have to say, Smallville is rocking my face again. Last night's episode was awesome. Unfortunately, the next one isn't until December 8, when it will be a holiday-themed "what if Lex was good" episode. After that, the new episodes won't begin again until mid-January. I'm really looking forward to the show's 100th episode (airing sometime in February), in which at least one major character is rumored to die. My bets? Clark's dad is a goner. Lex's dad may also bite the big one. An outside bet is Chloe dying, but I really hope it's not true. Not only because she's still integral to the plot, but also because I think she's pretty hot. A very smart, sassy, "Girl Friday" character. Don't want to lose that.
===
I want to go see a movie this weekend, if I can afford it. Either Harry Potter (like everyone else) or Walk The Line, which should be awesome. If I can't afford it, I'll either spring for the dollar movie, or I'll use my "free ticket" pass at AMC and see "Elizabethtown" again.
*checking movie times*
Strike that, E-town is no longer at any AMC theaters. Shoot. Guess there's always video.
===
I'm hesitant about making the switch to Typepad. It's stupid, but I am. First, paying for it is kinda wonky. I'm used to free blogging. That's not the real issue, though.
I'm used to Blogger. You're used to me being here.
I'm not the type of person who deals well with change. Especially when something is so comfortable.
I know, I know. It's just a website. I'll have a new one. You'll all come visit. But it won't be the same. I feel like I've invested something into this stupid collection of zeros and ones. Moving on to something else just feels...wrong somehow. Even if it is just to another page.
Plus, I just got a compliment on my current site design/headings from a fellow blogger and Crows fan. Made me happy. That gives me pause.
This is all sound and fury of course. I'll go ahead and make the switch, I think. I can do more with Typepad anyway. It just takes me getting comfortable with it.
===
I want to be in love.
I know, I know, I KNOW. I swore off that pursuit. I decided that I was done making myself crazy over it. And I am.
But I still want to be in love. I miss that feeling.
That's all.
===
I'm trying to get my money situation straightened out again. I'm waiting on a reimbursement check from work for business trip expenses. It's taking forever, which is putting me in a tight spot. Oh well. What else is new, right?
===
Class is going well. We're finishing Colossians this week.
===
I can't think of anything else. Have a good weekend.
===
I had Thai food for the first time today. We always go out for lunch on Friday, and today the boss insisted on a little Thai place in the Village. It was funny, because one of the girls suggested a buffet, and the boss gave this five-minute speech on how buffets were bad, only to find out that the Thai place he had his heart set on was a buffet.
Honest reaction: meh. Certainly not worth the ten bucks (buffet and water, plus tip). I prefer my good ol' Americanized Chinese buffet much better. I did learn two things about my food preferences today: peanut sauce and curry are both on the "gross, no thanks" list.
===
After Thai, we walked a block and a half to TCBY for some fro-yo. Stopped in a few shops. Everything was overpriced but cool. One shop had some really great handmade decorative items, that ranged between "cheesy child's-art-project" and "really cool craftsmanship."
Got yogurt. Then went to Barnes and Noble for a few minutes. The boss wanted a Frapp. (I've got a cool boss.) I bought a writing magazine. I could use some inspiration.
===
I'm also reading Bird By Bird again. It's now in the "1" slot. The way I work the juggling of books in progress, is really a matter of priority. I have the book I carry in my messenger bag, that I read on the train to and from work, and at lunch. This is the "1" slot. Then the book I read at night for an hour or so, every other night. This is usually the book I'm using for SunSco, or a dating book I'm too ashamed to read in public. This is the "2" slot. If there's another book that I started and stopped because I wanted to read something else, it falls into the back-up position. That's the "3" slot. It's not necessary, and doesn't have to be filled.
I usually don't do more than three. Much past that, I just put it back on the shelf and pick it up later.
So, currently: 1) Bird by Bird; 2) the Paul book; 3) nothing yet. Maybe I'll pull out that Dylan Thomas anthology and kick it around a bit.
Upcoming reads: Pride and Prejudice; a C.S. Lewis collection that includes "Pilgrim's Regress" and "God in the Dock"; and a collection of Dickens' Christmas stories, including "Christmas Carol."
===
For those in the know, I had a three-pronged goal of personal discipline and growth that I started on the first of this month. First, health--eating good food and exercising. Second, money--properly spending and budgeting, and paying off debts. Third, writing--getting something down every day.
The other night, I left work late and didn't want to go home. I felt like being around people. So I jumped on the northbound train, instead of the southbound, and went to Chipotle for dinner. Then, after eating most of my overfull burrito, I walked nextdoor to Starbucks and got a Frapp (whatever the "medium" size is), and read my book (Karamazov--I finished it yesterday!). I got back on the train and made my way home, where I sat and watched TV for an hour or two.
It occured to me, before bed, that I had successfully NOT done any of the things I had purposed to do. I had spent money unnecessarily, on food that was bad for me; I didn't exercise that night; and I went to bed, not having written a word.
It was the trifecta of laziness. Way to go, me.
===
I know you don't care, but I have to say, Smallville is rocking my face again. Last night's episode was awesome. Unfortunately, the next one isn't until December 8, when it will be a holiday-themed "what if Lex was good" episode. After that, the new episodes won't begin again until mid-January. I'm really looking forward to the show's 100th episode (airing sometime in February), in which at least one major character is rumored to die. My bets? Clark's dad is a goner. Lex's dad may also bite the big one. An outside bet is Chloe dying, but I really hope it's not true. Not only because she's still integral to the plot, but also because I think she's pretty hot. A very smart, sassy, "Girl Friday" character. Don't want to lose that.
===
I want to go see a movie this weekend, if I can afford it. Either Harry Potter (like everyone else) or Walk The Line, which should be awesome. If I can't afford it, I'll either spring for the dollar movie, or I'll use my "free ticket" pass at AMC and see "Elizabethtown" again.
*checking movie times*
Strike that, E-town is no longer at any AMC theaters. Shoot. Guess there's always video.
===
I'm hesitant about making the switch to Typepad. It's stupid, but I am. First, paying for it is kinda wonky. I'm used to free blogging. That's not the real issue, though.
I'm used to Blogger. You're used to me being here.
I'm not the type of person who deals well with change. Especially when something is so comfortable.
I know, I know. It's just a website. I'll have a new one. You'll all come visit. But it won't be the same. I feel like I've invested something into this stupid collection of zeros and ones. Moving on to something else just feels...wrong somehow. Even if it is just to another page.
Plus, I just got a compliment on my current site design/headings from a fellow blogger and Crows fan. Made me happy. That gives me pause.
This is all sound and fury of course. I'll go ahead and make the switch, I think. I can do more with Typepad anyway. It just takes me getting comfortable with it.
===
I want to be in love.
I know, I know, I KNOW. I swore off that pursuit. I decided that I was done making myself crazy over it. And I am.
But I still want to be in love. I miss that feeling.
That's all.
===
I'm trying to get my money situation straightened out again. I'm waiting on a reimbursement check from work for business trip expenses. It's taking forever, which is putting me in a tight spot. Oh well. What else is new, right?
===
Class is going well. We're finishing Colossians this week.
===
I can't think of anything else. Have a good weekend.
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
Lyric Post
Haven't done one of these in a while. But this line popped into my head, so I wanted to share.
that holds the tears of yesterday.
I've climbed the mountains of regret,
when you're numb you cannot feel the pain.
Then I heard her name across a crowded room,
does anybody know how it feels
to be swimming in a reservoir of soul?
Don't tell me it's for the best.
It only makes me feel worse.
A messiah of circumstance,
in love with being loved.
Then I came across a photograph,
does anybody know how it feels
to be swimming in a reservoir of soul?
I'm lonely, but I'm not alone.
Take me home, I want to go home.
"Reservoir of Soul," Dime Store Prophets
that holds the tears of yesterday.
I've climbed the mountains of regret,
when you're numb you cannot feel the pain.
Then I heard her name across a crowded room,
does anybody know how it feels
to be swimming in a reservoir of soul?
Don't tell me it's for the best.
It only makes me feel worse.
A messiah of circumstance,
in love with being loved.
Then I came across a photograph,
does anybody know how it feels
to be swimming in a reservoir of soul?
I'm lonely, but I'm not alone.
Take me home, I want to go home.
"Reservoir of Soul," Dime Store Prophets
Link-Drop Wednesday
A day earlier than normal. Why? I dunno. Felt like it.
- Fans of DCTalk's 'nuttiest' member, Kevin Max, will enjoy this interview from May, as well as this very positive review of his newest album, "The Imposter," released last month. (If you missed his last album, "Stereotype Be," you should track it down--it was cool. I expect big things from the new one.)
- I was really sad to hear the WWE Superstar Eddie Guerrero died. (Stop smirking, I'm being totally serious.) And while it would be easy (and mean) to immediately assume the cause was drugs, the real cause, according to recent reports, was heart failure. Eddie had been clean for four years. He was a showman, an athelete, and a great performer.
- If you haven't heard of Nooma, you're missing out on what appears to be the new, big thing in church media ministry. (Normally, I'd be saying this sarcastically.) Usually, I'd be the one ripping on the "new big thing," but not so in this case. Nooma is a series of short films by Rob Bell, which touch on some big religious ideas, often coming at them from a different perspective. Really informative, really heartfelt. Very high production values--the films are deftly shot and edited. Highly recommended. On the website, you can watch clips of all of the films, as well as the entirety of the first one (called "Rain"). For the first time in a long time, something popular in Christian culture is actually worth checking out, too.
- Internet Monk has been on a roll lately. Here's a post on the recent interest in C.S. Lewis' sex life, as well as some thoughts on The Prayer of Jabez and the "Look at Me!" offering (wear steel-toed boots for that one).
Trying something new...
I'm still not convinced that this is necessary or worthwhile, but I'm trying out a new blog host.
Since you are pretty much the reason I blog, I wanted to give you the opportunity to voice your opinion of the possible new home for my daily bloggerations.
Like I said, this is just a test right now. So don't get all pissy about your site not being listed yet--I didn't want to drop the full blogroll on it until I knew that it would be my real future site.
So, like I said, check it out, and lemme know if it's worth making the switch (to the tune of $50 for one year on the new service).
If you prefer the current design, motif, or theme, let me know that too.
Once again, don't get too excited, and don't switch your links yet. We'll just see how it goes.
Since you are pretty much the reason I blog, I wanted to give you the opportunity to voice your opinion of the possible new home for my daily bloggerations.
Like I said, this is just a test right now. So don't get all pissy about your site not being listed yet--I didn't want to drop the full blogroll on it until I knew that it would be my real future site.
So, like I said, check it out, and lemme know if it's worth making the switch (to the tune of $50 for one year on the new service).
If you prefer the current design, motif, or theme, let me know that too.
Once again, don't get too excited, and don't switch your links yet. We'll just see how it goes.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Another OBU alum... well, not technically, "alum"...
Add to the list of famous ex-Bison in the entertainment world (that includes Jim J. Bullock and Grammy-Award-winner Dave Hodges) a new entry--Mr. Waylon Payne.
Who's Waylon Payne? A country musician primarily, but you'll see him as Jerry Lee Lewis in the upcoming Johnny Cash biopic, "Walk the Line."
Here's an interview where I found out about his academic past.
Seems like OBU throws out the most interesting people.
Who's Waylon Payne? A country musician primarily, but you'll see him as Jerry Lee Lewis in the upcoming Johnny Cash biopic, "Walk the Line."
Here's an interview where I found out about his academic past.
Seems like OBU throws out the most interesting people.
"Lord, Save Us from the Deeds of the Well-Intentioned."
I was watching the news this morning, as I became later and later for work. I usually watch the local news in the mornings these days. I used to watch "Good Morning, America" regularly, but I would get caught up in the segments and would lose track of time. The local news is more repetitive, so it's easier to lose interest and get back to my morning routine (usually).
Today, they were giving away a $25,000 renovation prize to the person with the "Ugliest Kitchen in Houston." The winner was a small Hispanic woman in her fifties. Whenever the correspondent would ask the woman and her grown daughter how it felt to win and how long it had been since they renovated, the daughter always answered for them. It could be that the woman didn't speak English as well. But her eyes spoke volumes.
Imagine it: you're on television for the first time ever, you've won a fabulous prize, and you stand there, as people keep talking about what an ugly and outdated and grimy kitchen you have in your home.
This is a kitchen that has been filled with home-cooked meals for family and friends for decades. And it's being discussed, in front of the woman who more-or-less lived in it for all those years, as an eyesore.
As I sat and watched her silently endure this embarrassment for the sake of new countertops, I grew ashamed and a little angry for her.
Now, of course, you might be saying, "What's the big deal? She's getting a new kitchen, so she should be grateful." And I'm sure she's very grateful.
But how much of our charity, how much of our "good works," come at the expense of shaming those we are helping? How much of our giving to those who have less or who have older things not only ends up in their receiving gifts, but embarrassment to wrap them with?
It's not enough to give things. It's not enough to give money. We have to wrap our small kindnesses with humility and honor, so that the people we bless don't feel ashamed.
The post title is a favorite saying of mine. These days, it seems all the more appropriate, as the deeds of the good-hearted and well-intentioned can sometimes be as destructive or disheartening as the works of wicked men.
Today, they were giving away a $25,000 renovation prize to the person with the "Ugliest Kitchen in Houston." The winner was a small Hispanic woman in her fifties. Whenever the correspondent would ask the woman and her grown daughter how it felt to win and how long it had been since they renovated, the daughter always answered for them. It could be that the woman didn't speak English as well. But her eyes spoke volumes.
Imagine it: you're on television for the first time ever, you've won a fabulous prize, and you stand there, as people keep talking about what an ugly and outdated and grimy kitchen you have in your home.
This is a kitchen that has been filled with home-cooked meals for family and friends for decades. And it's being discussed, in front of the woman who more-or-less lived in it for all those years, as an eyesore.
As I sat and watched her silently endure this embarrassment for the sake of new countertops, I grew ashamed and a little angry for her.
Now, of course, you might be saying, "What's the big deal? She's getting a new kitchen, so she should be grateful." And I'm sure she's very grateful.
But how much of our charity, how much of our "good works," come at the expense of shaming those we are helping? How much of our giving to those who have less or who have older things not only ends up in their receiving gifts, but embarrassment to wrap them with?
It's not enough to give things. It's not enough to give money. We have to wrap our small kindnesses with humility and honor, so that the people we bless don't feel ashamed.
The post title is a favorite saying of mine. These days, it seems all the more appropriate, as the deeds of the good-hearted and well-intentioned can sometimes be as destructive or disheartening as the works of wicked men.
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