The Thought of Being Free Has Entered Many Minds

Rubble Is The Ground...

2005-03-20T22:25:00.000-05:00

I've been reading Anne Lamott's newest book of essays, Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith. Though not for the faint-hearted or the conservative-hearted - let's just say that Ms. Lamott is not on the pep squad for the Bush administration - I've enjoyed the read. She's a broken women with a messy life who finds an honest hope in Jesus but perhaps not the sort of hope that many evangelicals expect from their fellow believers. I think her brokenness, her messiness, her clinging, and her perseverence should cause us to pay attention because I think we all need to be reminded to be broken, messy, clinging, and to keep at it becasue I think it's easy to forget that these things are not just ok, but good.

Anyway, I wanted to share one quote that I came across because I thought it was well put. So without further ado...

I have survived so much loss, as all of us have by our forties-my parents, dear friends, my pets. Rubble is the ground on which our deepest friendships are built. If you haven't already, you will loose someone you can't live without, and your heart will be badly broken, and you will never completely get over the loss of a deeply beloved person. But this is also good news. The person lives forever, in your broken heart that doesn't seal back up. And you come through, and you learn to dance with the banged-up heart. You dance to the absurdities of life; you dance to the minuet of old friendships. [Plan B, 147]

Some of Life's Sweetness

2005-03-14T15:00:00.000-05:00

Last night, our church moved into its new location since we had very much outgrown the building we had been using. Because my life spirals down its personal vortex, we are now renting space from the church my family attended through most of my childhood, only the church had since relocated and renamed. It was kind of strange to see the old paraphernalia from my memories in this new crisp room: the wooden cross that used to hang in the baptismal, the flags that we carried in each day during vacation bible school, the banners of a dove and a burning bush that somebody made for some reason that I can’t remember.

I wasn’t expecting to see anyone I knew since we didn’t usually cross paths with the church members at the space we had been rented, so when I met a lady outside the office, I just introduced myself by saying, “I don’t think I’ve met you before.”

“I don’t think I’ve met you either,” she responded. “I’m Faye.”

Something familiar clicked but I didn’t understand. I pointed to my chest and said softly, “I’m Jamie. I know you.”

Then she hugged me joyously and cupped my face in both her hands and smiled at me in at there-you-are-Peter sort of way. Once she found the child in the adult’s face, she exclaimed “I loved this girl!”

I’ve never been greeted like that before and I was genuinely touched. She was just there in case our childcare workers needed anything. That was actually pretty much all we said since I had to run back to the stage to finish setting up music. I was moved and I wanted to share.

I'm Sure You Must Be Weary, Dear

2005-03-09T12:12:00.000-05:00

This is a speech I received from a three-year-old last night. I usually end up spending the night when I baby-sit him, especially if his folks are coming home late, since I live pretty far away.

So where are you going to be in the morning, Jamie? Because, see, we have four beds and one of them is just for Guests and it's in Grandmamma's Room, but grandmomma's not here right now so you can have that one, ok? It's just down the hall; you just need to go straight ahead. It's ok, you won't get lost - just remember, go straight ahead.

And don't worry, Jamie, we'll have a little bit of time to play in the morning before you have to go home. It will be all right. We'll eat breakfast and we'll play, ok?

Everyday Low Prices

2005-03-06T15:38:00.000-05:00

Because of copyrights, I can't really post the image, however, you guys should check out this Sunday's Boondock comic strip. It's truly a full color affair,

So He Said To His Mother, “I Am Running Away”

2005-03-02T21:25:00.000-05:00

I met a four-year-old at the grocery story yesterday. Her mom and I were both looking at teas and the kid looked a little bored. I noticed she was wearing a pretty pink scarf so I looked up and said, “Hey! That’s a beautiful scarf you’re wearing.”

“Thank you,” she responded.

“Did someone make it for you?” I asked

“No, my mommy gave it to me!” was the answer.

“Actually,” interrupted the mother, “I did make it for her.”

“It’s really great,” I replied. Then, turning to the girl, “You must be awful special for someone to make you such a great scarf!”

“I am special!” she exclaimed with all her heart. “Mommy says I am so special all the time!”

It’s amazing what little kids can get away with. This girl was not boasting; she was relaying facts to me: (1) that she knew she was something special and (2) that she knew this because her mother made sure she was told this all the time. If a twelve-year-old had said this, we would all jump to the conclusion that he or she was conceited – at least, those of us who grew up Southern would jump to this conclusion, though I seriously doubt we Southerns are alone in this prejudice.

It’s funny though. I think if we were to let ourselves be honest, we would all agree that we want what this girl has: to know without a shadow of a doubt that we are special, valued, and needed – AND we want to know this to such a degree that we would not be afraid to proclaim it to a stranger trying to pick out the right chamomile tea. It’s not that we want to be thought of as conceited, but we do want the confidence that conceited people seem to radiate.

Why don’t we know this? I believe that most of us know very few, if any, people we would consider invaluable, and useless clones. Actually, maybe we do, unfortunately, consider many people to be just this, but I wonder if we have actually taken the time to get to know them. See, a four-year-old child asks a lot from her parent(s): they must put her to bed on time, keep her safe from accidents, clean up spills when she tries to help, clean up vomit when she is sick, wake up at the crack of dawn because she is not tired anymore, etc. Also, a parent does not keep (or should not keep) a list of gains such as “I changed your diapers for over a year, now you must do all my laundry until you are 30.” What is it that makes us tell a child they are so special over and over again?

So, a four-year-old child could know indubitably that she is special and if everyone we encounter is valuable if we take the time to look for it. I ask again, why do we have such a hard time believing this of ourselves? Why is, nestled in our deepest fears, the terror that we don’t add up to much? Is it all the mistakes we have made along the way? Is it because we were not loved properly when we were children? Have we spent too many weeks under Murphy’s Law? Is it that someone has told us we were worthless and we believed them? Why is it that we will call everything and everyone under the sun worthy, but can’t believe it of ourselves?

What A Dangerous World!

2005-02-14T22:41:00.000-05:00

Or, a story about prejudice.

I’ve been parking my car these days a couple of miles from where I work. Actually, I have no idea how far it is - I’m a terrible just at distances - but it is a 15-20 minute walk, so however far I can get in this amount of time is how many miles away I park. Anyway, all you need to know for the story I’m about to recount is that I have been walking to work through an imperfect section of town. What I mean is that I, as a women, would not be comfortable walking this street after the sun goes down. However, I don’t believe it’s unsafe, but I’m a little guarded at the same time.

So I am walking down this not completely unsafe street alone while being slightly guarded when an old sedan pulls up a block ahead of me and just sits there, right where the sidewalk gives out and you have to squeeze between the parked cars, the parking meters, and a short wall. Well, I was sure as hell not walking right beside an old, beat-up car that may or may not be waiting for me. I don’t like to misjudge things, but I have seen enough to be comfortable being afraid at times.

So, I pulled out trick number one. Since it was raining and the sidewalk was about to give out, I decided to cut through the parking lot that is on the other side of the wall. I figured, if the car’s driver had ill intentions, there would be some distance and maybe he would be discouraged from his evil plot. However, if the car’s driver was just some poor guy who had coincidentally parked his car at that time and place, then he would think I was just trying to keep my shoes dry. I was feeling pretty swell at this point.

Until the car drove up one more block and waited. Now he is parked next to a construction site where, to pass, I will have to come within four feet of his car. You have to understand that this street is totally barren for the most part excepting passing traffic - especially on a rainy day. I’ll admit that I was scared at this point, but I fortunately don’t panic in the moment which leaves me free to think. I went through all the possibilities: this guy wants to harm me in some way, this guy is lost and needs directions, etc. At the same time, I’m gathering together all my current modes of escape.

Finally, I decided that there was no way anything crazy could happen unless I passed close enough to the car to be pulled in. Since the car was in front of me, I could get a pretty good start if I crossed to the other side of the street where there are a few stores. The car would then have to turn around on a street not quite big enough for a U-turn. (Always go the opposite way if a car is harassing you!) So I reached the end of the parking lot, was walking to the street keeping an extremely close eye on the car when suddenly...

...the world’s friendliest face appeared. “Hey, Jamie! Need a ride? I tried to get your attention, but I couldn’t get the window down.” It was my friend Tim, the congenial hooligan who likes potpourri and organizational charts with the “evil” intention of driving me to my car so I would have to walk in the rain any longer.

Sometimes I get things completely wrong, though I’ll probably make the same mistake again!

First Cup of Coffee Tastes Like Washing Up

2005-02-14T12:00:00.000-05:00

I have GOT to buy new coffee. My current stock is utterly depressing. There's nothing like bitter, grainy coffee to put a frown on your day.

I also need to figure out a way to make coffee at work; it's a little tricky with no sink and no refrigerator. I can bring in a gallon jug of water since I'm a little loath to drink the water from our floor's communal bathroom. However, what would be easiest to clean: a mini-French press or a four-cup drip filter? I guess I could transport cream in those mini-Nalgene bottles (4 oz.). Sugar is not too complex considering I still have 437 packets of raw sugar. This is really all about saving money. I just don't think I can keep doing $10+ per week on caffeine, nor do I think I can cut down at this point. I'm trying to compromise.

Next on my list is to force myself to eat better. Because of bloodsugar issues I need to eat a good breakfast and a good lunch. The problem is that I eat too slowly and drive too far to eat breakfast at home and that I have eaten sandwiches for lunch for about five years now and I can't enjoy them anymore. Does anyone have any good, simple, and portable suggestions? To complicate matters, I need a significant amount of protein (equivalent of a cheese or peanut butter sandwich), plus I can't do very much wheat flour unless it's stone-ground or processed sugars.

Just Think Lovely Wonderful Thoughts

2005-02-09T13:08:00.000-05:00

Here is a my current list of my ten greatest & most consistent joys. Don't expect anything too profound, but I was feeling thankful and thought I would share.

Friends who turn their schedules upside down (or skip something they were looking forward to) in order to take me out to dinner.
Gilmore Girls.
O a t s
Three-year-olds who have worked the word "Actually" into their daily vocabulary
One-year-olds who fill my arms with various baby dolls and then force me to rock them all at once.
J.K. Rowling's wealth of knowledge and vast imagination.
Jasper Fford's wealth of knowledge and vast imagination.
The iPod.
Goldfish Crackers.
Overalls.

I feel like I should add David Beckham's right foot (and perhaps his left), but - alas - I have run out of room.

Public Service Announcement

2005-02-08T14:01:00.000-05:00

"We've all come here tonight to tell you that hope will kill you."
I wanted to inform all of you with good streaming capacities that there is a hour long Sam Phillips concert on NPR. For those who haven't picked up on this fact, she is one of my absolute favorite songwriters and she has a way of saying something profound in obscure phrases. Basically, she's great and you should listen.

So, in Ms. Phillips honor, I am giving out related bonus questions at three points a-piece. However, the catch is that each person can only answer one question - though you can try another if you get your first guess wrong.

~~Sam Phillips once played under the name ___________.~~
~~What was the title of Ms. Phillips' very first release?~~
~~What is the title of her last?~~
Sam once compared the CCM industry to the which film?
Define "Torch Music." (Ahem. Careful using Google here!)
~~Sam's voice is featured on what well-known TV sitcom?~~

I'm Lost in the Supermarket

2005-02-04T15:46:00.000-05:00

I'm currently taking suggestions for places to pursue employment. Benefits and enough money to live on are primary as well as a reasonably low stress environment. If these places exist, let me know!

Oh! Get Me Away From Here I’m Dying!

2005-02-03T14:31:00.000-05:00

I think I need a new line of employment. I am up to a minimum of 40 oz. of coffee per day, I’m listening to electronic pop/techno music like Frou Frou at absurdly loud principles, I’m either extremely oversleeping or extremely undersleeping, dinner is the first meal of the day I really have time for, and I have no patience reserves meaning that I’m in constant fear of loosing it (further draining the reserves.) I’m even dreading my woodworking class just because it’s one more thing to do. I only took this job because I could come put in my hours and go home with no burdens and now I’ve somehow become stuck in the middle of a crisis I didn’t create and it seems like everyone wants me on their side and I don’t know who’s in charge and, really, I just don’t care anymore – yet I feel responsible to stick around until things are smoothed over. When should I say screw it all and run out the door like my life depended on it?

I think someone needs to make me a uniform for my birthday next week reading Death By Employment.

Sleep the Clock Around

2005-02-02T13:48:00.000-05:00

I went to sleep with gum in my mouth and now there's gum in my hair...

I took benadryllast night to clear up my allergies figuring this would be its only benefit since it has be virtually ineffective in making me more sleepy recently. When the alarm went off this morning, I hit snooze more than a few times like I normally do then I finally sat up feeling that my head was extremely heavy - and it was suddenly 10:48! I am not the clearest thinker in the morning and it took me a minute to figure out how and why it had gone from 7:30 to 10:48 in an eight minute snooze allotment until I realized that I must have turned off the alarm accidentally - or worse, have slept through the whole thing. I admit that I swore at this moment of clarity.

So, I called work, made coffee, lost my cell phone that I had just used to call work, searched for twenty minutes until I found it, skipped picking up my prescription, bought a hamburger at McDonald's (it's cheap), paid for parking, walked to my building, turned on my computer, and I've been organizing papers since. However, it being 1:00 now, and though I've only been here for an hour, I'm going for coffee because I am still foggy. I think I'm going to have to start shooting for nine hours of sleep a night instead of eight.

(Sorry this post is so topsy-turvy. I think I'm still running on adrenaline.)

All Depending on the Kindness of Strangers

2005-01-27T11:46:00.000-05:00

I just wanted to tell everyone that one of the things I most appreciate is when the people behind the desk are non-judgmental when you come to pay your bill late. I don't mind when they tell me there's a late fee: if I pay my bills late, it is my fault and there are usually consequences for our mishaps. However, fussing at me is probably not going to change the present - or even the future seeing as all my best intentions will fall short eventually.

However, today's interactions with the "bill collectors" were of the positive sort meaning that their value of me was not connected to the timeliness of my payments to which I am grateful.)

Rules Of The Game

2005-01-24T15:33:00.000-05:00

I'm going to try a new approach to blogging here in 2005, basically mocking my idiosyncrasies.

How to Play :

I am always making obscure cultural references, most obviously in my blog titles. So this year, I am going to award points to the first person to place a particular reference. Each person is allowed one response with one guess for each reference. Extra guesses will be ignored, but the only guess. I promise to ignore you personally.

Point Structure

Origin of a Blog Title = 5 points
Origin of a Reference within a posting = 8 points (5 for the source, 3 for the searching
Particularly Difficult References = 10 points (PDR's are up to my discretion, including whether or not I choose to reveal a post contains a PDR.)
Bonus Questions = See Market Value
No points will be deducted for incorrect responses.

[Note: Since I make the references anyway, there should really not be any change in what I post.]

Other Details

Current scores will be listed under the Blogger logo in the right-hand column. By venturing a guess, you agree to have your name and score listed, however, in order to list your score, I will need your name therefore anonymous postings will be ignored, though not the anonymous poster.

The order of responses will be verified by the date & time listed in the comment box. Understanding that there will be some of us who will want to actually respond to the post and not just play, I am going to enable Blogger's comment system for normal commenting (since it will also email alerts) and will use a new commenting system for the 2005 Idiosyncratic Cultural Reference Game beginning with this post.

This game will end Dec. 31, 2005 at 11:59:59. Token prizes will be given to the top three finalists. In the case of a tie, an emailed list of five questions will be sent to the tied contestants, each question counting for one point. The tied contestants will have twenty-four hours to respond. The score of their correct responses will be added to their final score, hopefully creating a winner.

Good luck! (Oh, and there are two interior references in this post to get you started.)

Your Town Is Made For People Passing Through

2005-01-24T13:04:00.000-05:00

My whirlwind of a weekend is over and I think I need someone to give me the you're no longer eighteen, you're not even twenty-one lecture the next time I plan a twenty-four hour trip out-of-state.

I arrived in Nashville at 10:30 a.m. on Saturday, picked up my rental car. As I was walking out to my car (in the very back corner of the rental lot), it started to snow, really snow. I thought it best to find the church; first, because I have a - reasonable - fear of getting lost and, second, because I didn't want to get snowed in too far from the wedding. The snow began to taper off when I reached the church so, seeing a Subway in the distance, I decided to grab a 2:30 lunch then I headed to Walgreen's since I thought I could probably peruse the aisles for forty-five minutes while I talked on my cell phone.

I arrived at the wedding a half hour early, in time to watch the musicians rehearse. The wedding was nice: simple and classy. The groom was wearing a thrift-store tux and the bride and her matrons (everyone in the bride's party was married) carried lanterns on chains. My favorite part, which will be appreciated by everyone who knows Katy, was the corsages. From the back row I thought they were made of something similar to holly: they were really coffee beans!

The reception was at a friend's house down the road. It was very low-key and crowded, but not claustrophobically so. I milled around for a couple of hours, saw the cutting of the cupcakes and the dance (to Moon River, the only song Audrey Hepburn actually sang in a film.) At this point, I had reached my limit of hanging out with strangers so I left to visit my friends Randall and Amy in Franklin.

I don't really know Randall & Amy that well, mainly due to the fact that I only see them every couple of years, however, they are the sort of people you feel extremely comfortable around probably because they send off a very strong we-like-you-already-so-there's-no-need-to-impress-us vibe. I left when they were starting to fade, but armed with cookies, a CD, and my illusive banjo.

Next, I made my way back to the airport but made a pit-stop at McDonald's since it was the only fast food franchise that seemed open. Not to brag, but this was actually an extremely good move on my part because there was no one at any of the ticket counters to check in with which meant no food, no coffee, no nothing. I circled the external (and closed) food areas, politely declined to join in a card came with the college guys whose flight to Pittsburgh had been canceled, and found a corner behind the bolted rocking chairs near the vending machine room by an electrical outlet where I choose to camp out for the night (and please don't tell my mother!)

So I heated up my frigid hamburger in the vending room's microwave and proceeded to watch Garden State and The Cinderella Story. Both were funny, sweet, and very accessible in extreme fatigue. When Cinderella was over, it was time to check in. (Here is where I give US Airways extremely kudos because they were so nice to me about my banjo. Both flights put it into the captain's wardrobe to keep it safe without me having to beg - even though you are only technically allowed one carry-on bag.)

I fell asleep on the first flight before we took off and woke up when they announced - very loudly - that we could now take off our seatbelts and move about the cabin. Then I feel asleep again. Then there was the four hour layover in Charlotte caused by a delay in D.C. Then I arrived at RDU, was picked up by a friend, napped in their guest room, got jumped on by a three-year-old (once I was awake), drove home, fell asleep at nine, woke up at ten (a.m.), and now I am writing this though feeling quite out of it due to the lack & abundance of sleep.

This is your captain speaking. On behalf of myself and all my other manifestations, I would like to thank you for perusing the Thought of Being Free. We hope you have enjoyed your read. We are 58 words to the end, however, we would ask that you please remain seated until the post has come to a full and complete stop. We know you have a choice in blogs. The next time your leisure requires an on-line read, we hope that you will choose TBF.

[Five points to the first person who correctly pegs the title reference.]

Because Tim Is So Cool

2005-01-21T13:31:00.000-05:00

68% scored higher (more nerdy), and
32% scored lower (less nerdy).
What does this mean?

Your nerdiness is:
Not nerdy, but definitely not hip.

Hey!

2005-01-20T22:05:00.000-05:00

My niece can (finally) say my name! Of course, it sounds a little like "Lillian," but, hey, my standards are low for one-year-old pronunciation!

Resolutions

2005-01-20T21:58:00.000-05:00

Is it too late to post my New Year's Resolutions? I hope not because here they are.

I will not catch any more colds. (I've already had five, perhaps six, this year and my lungs are still recovering from number four.)
I will learn to play more of the Get Up Kid's repertoire so that I have something to sing when I want to play loud, fast music. Plus this means my brother and I will be able to serenade my niece properly.
I will read the major works of Dickens since I am determined to love him. David Copperfield is one of the five books to completely smitten me and I feel like my appreciation will increase the more I become accustomed to Dickens' style of writing.

So who's voting for my success?

Intellectuals

2005-01-20T21:32:00.000-05:00

I can across the best quote I have ever found defining the infamous "intellectual" in an essay about George Eliot and I just had to share.

An intellectual is a person who feels as much at home with ideas as with tangible things. This is why so few people are intellectuals. They discuss ideas as most of us discuss people. What we do as gossip, they do at an intellectual level, thinking about things that you can't see or touch – beauty, justice, and truth. An intellectual finds these as real as most of us find things that are concrete.

I also was taught, via this essay, that Silas Marner is "not the work to give a teenager to spark appreciation of the Victorian novel." It's a good thing that I was never told this because I have loved this novel since I first read it at age 15 – though I am now musing over the irony that a moral novel written by a "fallen" evangelical would have been the only novel assigned during my tenth grade year, the year I took correspondence classes from an extremely right-wing, conservative christian high school in Pensacola, Florida. It's a good thing they didn't buy into biographical literary criticism!

When I've Got Nothing To Say

2005-01-05T15:02:00.000-05:00

Actually, it's not that I don't have anything to say, but that my thoughts have lately been in unpostable arenas. Vague, yes, but I do want to apologize for the lack of writing. I'll keep my ears and eyes open for good posting material this week.

Random Thoughts

2005-01-04T13:27:00.000-05:00

The Smashing Pumpkins can be really great when you have a headache. I write songs that I don't really understand myself - could those poets I've never understood have written under the same pretense? Frozen food is a good thing to have on hand. A person on the street prophesying who spits towards people as they pass is most likely not a prophet.

Argh.

2004-12-09T01:13:00.000-05:00

I started writing a song earlier this evening hoping the words were not crap, but liking the melody very much. I looked over it before bed and realized that the words were actually all right, but that I had forgotten the melody. I used to be so anal about recording little snippets of anything I wrote so that nothing would be lost, but I began to realize that I never forgot the tune. I guess that I tend to write melodies against the chords so the chords contain a shadow of what i supposed to be singing. Unfortunately, I wrote this tune wandering around the house and put chords to it later so the guitar bit only adds depth to the melody, but it does not harmonize with it in any way. The only tune I can come up with is the last three notes Glasgow Love Theme from Love Actually which, beyond not being helpful at all, is just confusing me all the more. I am so frustrated!

Wow.

2004-11-30T23:20:00.000-05:00

If you happen to search for "Samantha: An American Girl movie" (in quotes, as such), you will be given two links: TheWB.com and The Thought of Being Free.

I don’t know how I feel about this. However, the words are right there on my site in that very order, so what can I say? It’s still just rather strange, I must say.

Announcements

2004-11-25T00:03:00.000-05:00

Apologies for the length of the earlier post. Perhaps I should blog more regularly.

Also, I have added links to other bloggers (as well as a few non-blog-related links) to the sidebar. Note that the blogs are ones I actually & those that are regularly updated.

Reflections on Samantha, Maria Full of Grace & Paul Miller

2004-11-24T20:10:00.000-05:00

I usually watch Gilmore Girls on Tuesday nights, but it was canceled last night in order to show Samantha: An American Girl Movie. Since I was cleaning my room (unfortunately, it’s a serious disaster area in progress), I thought I would leave it on to create some background noise thinking, at the very worst, it might be cute – and, besides, we don’t have cable and the W.B. is the clearest channel my television receives. I was actually pleasantly surprised, it was quite good. (Of course, it’s important to note that the target audience is probably 9-12 year olds, so please don’t draw comparisons to Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind or The Maltese Falcon.) However, I was honestly stunned by the depth of the piece. The story takes place in the early 1900’s, I believe. A girl named Samantha (who is around eleven) befriends a servant girl next door named Nelly who is her age. Through this friendship, Samantha has to come face to face with the issue of class in her society and, as she begins to see her privileged status more clearly, her heart is torn and inflamed by the injustice that “progress” has created and she sets out to remedy what she can. (Not bad stuff for a kid’s movie, eh?) I was also impressed that the story was also entertaining on top of the depth. I’ll leave it here because I don’t want to spoil anything in case anyone comes across it. It will be shown again on Thanksgiving night, so if you find yourself dusting and are in need of some background noise...

Continuing down the social-justice-in-film rabbit trail, I went to see Maria Full of Grace this weekend with my brother. I had heard a review months ago, but had forgotten all about it, however, the film happened to be playing at my brother’s university - so we went. The film is from Colombia and follows a seventeen year old girl named Maria as she begins life as a drug mule. The filmmakers did an incredible job of fleshing out her story. Why is she discontent with her lot? Is it reasonable for her to be so discontent? What are her options in life? Was her decision to enter the drug trade valid or invalid? Was the end result worth it? Are there others like Maria? And so the questions continue. It has been a long time since I have seen a film that seemed to give me a new angle of sight - as well as a deeply grieving heart. When the credits started to roll, it was as if time began to pulse again – it seemed incomprehensible that the film could actually be over. Hadn’t we just begun? (Note: The film runs for 101 minutes.) Let me just say that I highly, highly recommend this film.

On top of watching films and cleaning, I’ve also been rereading Paul Miller’s Love Walked Among Us on the bus to work. In it he talks about the compassion and love of Jesus and tries to impress upon the reader to learn to really see people and how to truly love them. It’s a hard read because he doesn’t leave any room for “Oh, that’s too bad” or “It’s not my problem.” Let me just insert a few quotes...

If we help someone and don’t take the time to look at the person and feel what he or she is feeling, our love is cold. And if we look and feel, but don’t do what we can to help, our love is cheap. Love does both.

We instinctively know that love leads to commitment, so we look away when we see a beggar. We might have to pay if we look to closely and care too deeply. Loving means loosing control of our schedule, our money, and our time. When we love, we cease to become the master and become the servant.

As I digest Miller's book, I realize that I am the antithesis to it all. I watch the above movies and care very deeply, but I don’t usually search an outlet for my compassion. I watch, reflect, and then continue to enjoy my life of advantage.

This has all set me to thinking what really moves me and what scares me. First of all, orphans move me very deeply, especially older orphans – so deeply, in fact, that it sometimes stresses me out that I am currently in no position to adopt a child, because I think I might seriously consider it if I was able, crazy as this sounds. However I am not financial stable enough to be even self-supporting – nor do I crave to be a single mother. Pity the man who marries me – especially if we can meet our needs – because one day this idea will obsess me!

Street people also move me – and they scare me. I can buy someone lunch, no problem. I can talk to someone, no problem. I can look someone in the eye everything I pass, hard but possible. However, I always feel that I am dealing the very tip of the iceberg and feel hopeless because I know that I am incapable of really helping – at least not permanently. It’s not even that I’m scared of the actual people in their actual difficulties (drug abuse, mental illness, etc.) – Jesus would have fed/talked/listened to anyone who was in need regardless of their societal appropriateness. It’s just that this is all I can do. Not only am I lacking in wisdom to be of real service, but also, at this point in time at least, I feel alone in this endevor because I don’t really know anyone else trying to shoulder their grief and their grief is overwhelming at times. However, perhaps this is not too much to ask of me, even if I must do so alone.

Finally, immigrants move me greatly. I get infuriated when Americans see Hispanics (as well as other immigrants) as a cause of societal ill. These individuals don’t see anything beyond jobs & law and completely miss the riches that other nationalities can bring to this nation of immigrants. I also have a great compassion for people who cannot communicate because they are still struggling in English. I still remember how it feels to spend months unable to communicate except in basic language and how small and alone that can make you feel. I could tutor English, learn Spanish, hang out with my mother’s friends from Iran, but I do none of the above. Time is an issue, but, working backwards through the list, even a very small effort is possible and could be of real service.

This world is a dim, dreary place sometimes. I’m extremely glad that these films end hopefully, each in its own way. It is good to be reminded of the darkness, but to be reminded that all is not hopeless and it is worthwhile to act. Remember Ms Which? “Wee wwill cconnttinnue tto ffightt!” This is not a bad thing to remember. I am also extremely glad to know that Jesus spent most of his ministry with the lowest of society. It is extremely hard for me when Christians look at me like I’m nuts when I begin to mourn the lot of Colombian coffee growers (and they look at me as if I’m even more nuts for suggesting they should pay a measly four cents extra per espresso shot that would go directly to the coffee growers.) I usually leave feeling labeled as a bloody liberal, an anti-capitalist, or at best “not one of us.” Sometimes I can’t decide whether I should rage or just give up. Did I say that this world is a dim and dreary place sometimes? Because it is, but this shouldn’t be an excuse for me to give up or to only rage without doing something to encourage change. I am only one person (and a very small person, at that.) I will not change the world, but I can act where I find myself even if my actions seem minute, go unnoticed, or mean that I will be pitied by those who should call me sister. These are not in my control, but what I do is.

Sketch of a Memory

2004-11-21T23:10:00.000-05:00

I visited my brother this weekend. He, strangely, now lives in Greenville, NC where we used to live when I was very small (4 years to 9 years). We were driving to a Chinese restaurant when we past the Greenville Art Museum which is actually an old, restored house. Even though I was the one behind the steering wheel, my mind was tracing all the angles and curves of the house with the familiarity of a long back road you must drive everyday. Then I remembered sitting in the lawn with a funny pencil made only of wood and strange paper covered in black wax that revealed vivid neon orange, yellow, or pink when you used the special pencil on it. Then I remembered trying to control a child’s chubby fingers while sketching the building – all the while a little mildly stressed because I knew I couldn’t correct any mistakes I might back. I was also hard to draw outside in a breeze. I think my mother came to pick me up before I was done that day

All I said to my brother and his friend was, “Hey! I used to take art class there when I was little!” They didn’t respond. I guess it’s just the Greenville Art Museum to them. To me it’s a big strange house (that has unfortunately shrunk a bit in its old age as well as taking on a more presentable appearance) that is like a maze and that smells musty with clay, ink, and canvas.

Those Republican Kids

2004-11-15T13:31:00.000-05:00

I find it terribly hard not to eavesdrop on the bus, especially when folks are talking loudly about something reasonably interesting.

Today's overheard conversation was between two Kerry supporters who worked on his campaign here in NC. First, they talked about how disappointed they still are and how unbelievable the outcome was. Then they moved on to talk about the Republican reactions, concluding that Republicans may seem nice, but they really find pleasure in the misery of others.

One gave the anecdote of two Republican students he teaches who came into class the day after the election and gave each other high-fives in front of the miserable hoard (i.e., the other students.) The teacher said this kind of shocked him because these two students are usually extremely conscious of what sort of impact their actions have on other - then he concluded that this just proved the theory that Republicans find pleasure in the misery of other.

Now, I have seen some uncalled-for reactions from Republicans (in the how-do-ya-like-them-apples variety) but, for the most part, I find it hard to believe that Democrats would have been more sober if they were the ones celebrating victory. I thought about breaking in, but, seeing as I was already two and a half hours late for work, I thought that the day was already off to a crazy enough start without picking a possible argument with two mourning Democrats.

And, as a side note, I just want to say how utterly disappointed I am that Colin Powell has resigned from his post. I'm a little nervous about a new cabinet being created where everyone is very alike in how they approach foreign policy.

Finding Neverland

2004-11-12T13:35:00.000-05:00

I'm actually pretty disappointed that this will not start showing in NC until the 24th although today is the official release day - albeit a limited release. It's really unfortunate that Barrie's story is remember by the public through Disney's lens. It's actually a really great story and lends itself well to being read out loud.

However, I must admit that I'm a little nervous. Last year's Peter Pan, long promised to be the most faithful rendition yet, was a total let down. The first 30 minutes were great. They even added in a new character, Aunt Millicent, to bring in some of the narration found in the first few chapters. My brother and I whispered to each other that this was quite clever and our expectations soared (which is quite a feat since we had been waiting for the film for almost a year.) Unfortunately it was downhill from there. Tiger Lily was rescued from the Black Castle and Tinkerbell joined forces with Captain Hook to revenge herself on Peter. How we groaned. The rest of the theatre was lucky we didn't start yelling curses on the screen.

I'm hoping, seeing as this film is not the story of Peter Pan, that they might get it right. Hook was a good endeavor!

Quote of the Day

2004-11-09T10:05:00.000-05:00

I write the way I do because (not though) I am a Catholic. This is a fact and nothing covers it like the bald statement. However, I am a Catholic particularity possessed of the modern consciousness, that thing Jung describes as unhistorical, solitary, and guilty. To possess this within the Church is to bear a burden, the necessary burden for the conscious Catholic. It's to feel the contemporary situation at the ultimate level. I think the Church is the only thing that is going to make the terrible world we are coming to endurable; the only thing that makes the Church endurable is that it is somehow the body of Christ and that on this we are fed. It seems to be a fact that you have to suffer as much from the Church as for it but if you believe in the divinity of Christ you have to cherish the world at the same time that you struggle to endure it. This may explain the lack of bitterness in the stories.

- Flannery O'Connor

Serenaded By Strangers

2004-11-08T18:32:00.000-05:00

It’s a good thing that I’ve been listening to country music lately or I would have missed that Brad Paisley has written a song for me - albeit, we’ve never met. However, if you read the lyrics, you will most likely agree.

Little Moments

Well I'll never forget the first time that I heard
That pretty mouth say that dirty word
And I can't even remember now what she backed my truck into
But she covered her mouth and her face got red
And she just looked so darn cute
That I couldn't even act like I was mad
Yeah I live for little moments like that

Well that's just like last year on my birthday
She lost all track of time and burnt the cake
And every smoke detector in the house was goin' off
And she was just about the cry until I took her in my arms
And I tried not to let her see me laugh
Yeah I live for little moments like that
I know she's not perfect but she tries so hard for me
And I thank God that she isn't 'cause how boring would that be
It's the little imperfections it's the sudden change in plans
When she misreads the directions and we're lost but holdin' hands
Yeah I live for little moments like that
And about the time she falls asleep so does my right arm
And I want so bad to move it 'cause it's tinglin' and it's numb
But she looks so much like an angel that I don't wanna wake her up
Yeah I live for little moments
When she steals my heart again and doesn't even know it
Yeah I live for little moments like that

Yeah, no Righteous Brothers outside my window, please.

It's So Sad to See Your Story End

2004-11-03T13:59:00.000-05:00

Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville-- mighty Kerry has struck out.

[ Link ]

Honk if You're a Sport*

2004-11-02T23:35:00.000-05:00

If I've learned anything in the past few days, it's that I was not really born to be a Southerner, a Conservative, or a "good" Evangelical.

* Sport [spôrt] n. 7. Biology, An organism that shows a marked change from the normal type or parent stock, typically as a result of mutation.

Vote! The World Is Listening...

2004-11-02T09:49:00.000-05:00

One more nice thing about living in the middle of nowhere is that, when you go to vote, you are practically guaranteed an empty parking space - plus you will be on your merry way within 10 minutes (even if you take the time to ponder over the ballot.)

However, you may come close to running over a chicken on your way to work. They can blend in with the leaves this time of year.

Another Life Lesson

2004-10-29T14:02:00.000-04:00

It is so worth the extra $2 to buy brand name cough syrup – so, so, worth it. I cannot attempt to describe how foul the generic is.

Proud To Be An American?

2004-10-28T10:55:00.000-04:00

I’ve been slightly taken aback by much of the anti-populist critique or John Kerry. Some say he cannot represent America because he has a large vocabulary, windsurfs, speaks another language (that isn’t Spanish), has a “foreign” wife, and is rich. Is it truly elitist to love language, other cultures, and enjoying sports you can afford? It seems to me that real elitism is like the parable of the Pharisee and the tax-collector where the Pharisee prays “Lord, thank that I am not like ________.” Besides, I have a non-populist vocabulary, enjoy reading Charles Dickens and speak French. If the key to being American is being homogeneous, then where does this leave me?

[I feel as though I should note that this is not an attack on all Republicans, considering I come from a Republican family (for the most part) and don’t find myself looked down upon for my interests (excepting the French), however, I do see to come across this manner of thinking several times a day and I’m tired of hearing it.]

Thoughts on SA

2004-10-27T23:10:00.000-04:00

This is long, but, since I haven’t posted in such a long time, I hope everyone will have the time to read. (Kidding, only kidding.)

First of all, I must say that I was very glad to have the chance to be part of my cousin’s wedding. I grew up with her and she is my oldest friend. If I had been unable to make it, it would have been a lifelong regret. However, I don’t think I have ever lived in such constant stress – at least not from something I had no part in creating. (I actually had two big stress knots at the base of my neck for a week after I returned.)

There was a report on NPR a few days ago about a South African television program called “Great South Africans” that was recently canceled. Basically, the public was asked to vote for their hero and then the program would produce a short biography on each. The problem arose from the fact that many of the top scoring figures where leaders of apartheid. (For more see this Sun Time’s article and this American-living-in-SA blog entry.)

Unfortunately this was not really a shock considering some of the conversations I found myself in. There is a lack of justice for everyone and it seemed that every people group distrusts all of the others. Obviously, most of this stems from the fact that the minority ruled over the majority until very recently – I wish I could say more about this, but I was never able to escape from being white and affluent.

However, beyond the former oppression of Africans and Indians, it seems that at lot of the new policies created to share the wealth. There are laws such as, if you don’t kick someone off your land in forty-eight hours, they have a right to stay there and you loose the rights to your property. To make matters worse, people do not trust the police and are thus afraid - and it’s not just about property; one woman I spoke to told me that she hit a African woman (who was drunk) with her car and when she went to the police they only asked if her car was ok. To top it off, I know many of these affluent whites voted for African candidates because they sense the injustice to some extent, but have found that the African candidates are just as corrupt as the white ones and are now disillusioned.

I think the worse bit is the blaming. The British claim that the Dutch were the ones that screwed things up so badly and that most Africans are lazy and want free government aid. It makes you want to ask questions like: How? When? Why? Why? Why?

I’ve also never seen such poverty. Well, this isn’t exactly true since many Trinidadians are just as poor. I actually think it was the contrast of getting off a fancy airplane then seeing your first shanty town or driving in a nice car and noticing that all the people walking have brown skin and that none of them look like you.

It’s strange - I hate malls on principle, but it was in the malls that I felt the most at home. People would talk to me - no matter what their color - as if they had a right to speak to me. I liked that. It was like my life here, a hodgepodge of color and culture and views.

All of this has been negative so far, but I don’t think my experience was purely negative - heavy yes, negative no. The thing is that the people were really nice and I enjoyed being with them. I was really struck by how kind everyone was. So I thought I would end my thoughts with a few anecdotes:

First, we stayed at this really nice bed & breakfast which had only sliding-glass doors which we all kept walking into - some of us multiple times. Finally Pauline, the owner, threw her hands over her head and fetched masking tape and put huge “X’s” on all the doors at head level. (I assured her that we did have sliding-glass doors in American, only we didn’t clean them so well.)

Next, further proving that I’m a language junkie and have absolute no real accent excepting that of my own, I had a man who worked at the hiking store at the mall ask me which part of South Africa I was from, that he couldn’t place my accent. I have also picked up the habit of saying “hey” which is similar to the Canadian “eh” as in “So you want to see the elephants, hey?”

We also went to a nature reserve where we were so close to a baby zebra that I could have touched it - only it’s father (mother?) came running up to it clicking its hooves like a mustang which was more than enough encouragement for us to back off!

Our other educational endeavor was to the naturalist museum where they had lots of stuffed animals (like the Smithsonian in Washington, DC) which was not so exciting except that they had a stuffed Dodo. I don’t know where I picked this up, but I always assumed they were small birds like seagulls. Actually, seagulls aren’t so small, but, honestly, this bird was huge! Fifty pounds! Think about the prize turkey Scrooge buys for the Cratchit's! I was suddenly sad that there is no way to see one now, however, I’m holding out the hope that they will be restored to the new Earth.

Finally, we ate out at least once, though sometimes twice - a day. As in any new country in which you find yourself, all the Americans would have to read every word on the menu before we could decide what we wanted. (As a general rule, never eat at an American style restaurant if you are an American outside of American unless it is owned an operated by and American.) However, one night all of us Americans were home at the B&B for dinner so we decided to order take-out from a pizza place. After studying the menu for twenty minutes (fruit pizza, seafood pizza, biltong pizza), we all order macaroni & cheese.

O Say, Can You See?

2004-10-12T13:32:00.000-04:00

Perhaps I have read too much Anne Lamott or Harvey Conn or Gandhi, or perhaps I have listened to too much NPR while not reading enough of WORLD, or perhaps I have lived too long in places such as Carrboro and Asheville and Europe, especially in my formative years, however, it does seem as though I have somehow slid over to the extreme left, at least according to selectsmart.com's Presidential Selector. Perhaps, knowing some of my readers, I should not admit this too freely, but here are my results just the same.

Cobb, David - Green Party (71%)
Nader, Ralph - Independent (71%)
Kerry, Senator John, MA - Democrat (61%)
Brown, Walt - Socialist Party (59%)
Bush, President George W. - Republican (31%)
Badnarik, Michael - Libertarian (25%)
Peroutka, Michael - Constitution Party (16%)

Now She's Back From Outerspace

2004-09-29T14:12:00.000-04:00

I just wanted to announce that I have returned safely. I'll try to include a trip update in a few days. Right now, I'm trying to bounce back into everyday life even though I'm not quite functioning in the correct time zone. However, for the moment, I need to get moving here at work. More to follow...

Wild Blue Yonder

2004-09-17T14:50:00.000-04:00

Well, this is it folks. Tomorrow I take off for South Africa. I'm sure I'll have a couple of interesting stories to tell when I return.

A bientôt!

Ending Lines

2004-09-14T15:47:00.000-04:00

No, I'm not quitting the blogging expedition; I just wanted to share Cahill's conclusion to How the Irish Saved Civilization. I thought it was powerful and witty and it puts a voice to thoughts that have lain buried in the back of my mind.

What will be lost, and what saved, of our civilization probably lies beyond our powers to decide. No human group has ever figured out how to design its future. That future may be germinating today not in a boardroom in London or an office in Washington or a bank in Tokyo, but in some antic outpost or other...in some unheralded corner where a greathearted human being is committed to loving outcasts in an extraordinary way.

Perhaps history is always divided into Romans and Catholics—or, better, catholics. The Romans are the rich and powerful who run things their way and must always accrue more because they instinctively believe that there will never be enough to go around; the catholics, as their name implies, are universalists who instinctively believe that all humanity makes one family, that every human being is an equal child of God, and that God will provide. The twenty-first century, prophesied Malraux, will be spiritual or it will not be. If our civilization is to be saved—forget about civilization, which, as Patrick would say, may pass “in a moment like a cloud or smoke that is scattered by the wind”—if we are to be saved, it will not be by the Romans but by saints. [217-18]

Saint Patrick

2004-09-13T13:38:00.000-04:00

I've been listening to an unabridged audio recording of Thomas Cahill's How the Irish Saved Civilization. In the book, Cahill proposes the idea that class prejudice and racial prejudice may have prevented the creation of missionaries up until Patrick - mainly seeing that being Roman and being Christian were considered to be synonymous during this period.

I don't know enough history of this era to agree or disagree, but it has set my mind to wandering. I've been considering if whether those we consider to be Church Fathers grew to be considered as such because they were honestly the Greats or if there was not some forgotten prejudice to cause these to be the ones who survived. If this is so, who has been forgotten who we may desperately still need? It just seems that the church has a history of loving power and prestige whereas Christ taught that the greatest must be a servant to all. Most of the Church Fathers seem to have some scar on their record coming from the belief that they were better than some other group whether it be women, pagans, other cultures, etc. I know this doesn't mean they thus have nothing to offer, but I still find it troublesome.

Anyway, none of this has been about St. Patrick and perhaps this doesn't flow so gracefully, but still I offer the following quote from the above volume.

Patrick's emotional grasp of Christian truth nay have been greater than Augustine's. Augustine looked into his own heart and found there the inexpressible anguish of each individual, which enabled him to articulate a theory of sin that has no equal-the dark side of Christianity. Patrick prayed, made peace with God, and then looked not only into his own heart but into the hearts of others. What he saw convinced him of the bright side-that even slave traders can turn into liberators, even murderers can act as peacemakers, even barbarians can take their places among the nobility of heaven. [115]

By George, She's Got It!

2004-09-12T09:18:00.000-04:00

It's taken her fourteen months, but our little Bichon has finally figured out that, if she wants to play fetch, she must first release the ball. Before, she would bring the ball to you growling and then run away if you tried to take the toy. Then she would get miffed if you wouldn't play.

Well, I'll Be

2004-09-08T13:35:00.000-04:00

Today while driving to my first day at a new babysitting job, a shadow passed over my car and looked up to see a heron flying just above me. I don't think I've ever seen one so close - it was about as big as I am with lots of sharp angles for wings and body. My thought was - Wow, this must be what a pterodactyl looked like.

You know, maybe it wasn't a heron after all...

Ginger

2004-09-02T11:56:00.000-04:00

I saw my first Segway Scooter today being ridden by a normal American (who obviously makes more than I do.) I've never seen so many heads turn to gawk at an "average joe."

Maybe this could be a new way to pick up the ladies, only I haven't heard of a Segway built for two. I'd stick with the Vespa, guys.

There’s a Snake in my Boot!

2004-08-31T17:39:00.000-04:00

Today as I was walking across the yard, my mother ran out screaming after me. At first, I thought maybe I had accidentally created an irredeemable disaster (like burning the house down), but then she started to call “You have to help me! Snake!” Turns out there was a snake in our bathroom.

I raced into the house to find her standing near the bathroom doorway yelling “Spit! SPIT! It’s gone! We’re never going to find it! I can’t do snakes!” Meanwhile, I am looking over her shoulder and spot the snake under the shower curtain. I state this in my most calm & soothing voice - I have never seem my mother’s eyes so wide before. “Hey Mom? It’s actually right over there. See? Under the shower curtain.” My mother immediately starts shouting orders. “Use the rug to block the laundry room. It might also try to go under the sink! Quick! [Pause] I don’t know what to do! How do you catch a snake?” I start following the orders that make sense keeping my eyes on the snake who is only moving ever so slightly.

After blocking the laundry room, I go over to the snake to try to see if it’s safe to pick it up. It’s not that I either like or fear snakes; it’s just that I’m cautious until I know what sort of snake it is - the same caution I would have with a barking dog. In my head, I am rehearsing all the random knowledge I have gained over the years from children’s encyclopedias, nature camps, juvenile science magazines, and life & science museums.

Most poisonous snakes in North Carolina are so tiny that their mouths are not large enough to bite humans. This snake is somewhat large.
Most poisonous snakes have a triangular head, but this snake has a round head - however, remember there are exceptions to this rule.
Cobras don’t live in North America.
It’s obviously not a rattlesnake.
It seems to be slow moving and trying to hide. When I move items away from it, it shrinks closer to the wall as to get away from me.

Finally I decided to go for it. I turn to my mother and tell her that it’s ok that she doesn’t like snakes, but I need her to be calm and move towards the snake if it tries to go under the sink cabinet, that I will need some back up, can she do this. In all honesty, I don’t really wait for her response. I grab a hand town from the cabinet since I don’t have gloves nor am I going to leave my mother with the snake to find gloves. I grab the snake. Success! Not bad at all!

I tell my mother who is not moving, “Quick! Go open the door!” and off she runs. Then I realize that the towel idea was ok, but had one fatal flaw - that is that the snake could slide out of my grip pretty easily and I was a little afraid of squashing it. So, I catch it and it slithers out. I catch it and it slithers out. I catch it and it slithers out. All the while, I am calmly projecting “Mom? I need to come here. Mom? Mom? Can you please come here? Mom? MOM!!” And she comes running in with her eyebrows hidden in her hairline.

I switch back to using my calm, chanting, this-is-totally-normal voice. “This is not working. [Catch snake.] I think I need... [Catch snake.] I need a bucket. [Loose snake!]” My mother shrieks and runs out of the room, turns around and runs right back in. Meanwhile the snake slithers under the dog’s crate and somehow I understand that it has found what it wants and that it’s not going anywhere. “I need a bucket, Mom.” Calm, peaceful chanting again.

She brings me an empty trash can and I start to move the crate. “Mom,” I say very purposefully & soothingly, “the snake is scared and it’s hiding. I need you to move very, very slowly so we don’t scare it. It’ll be ok.” I move the crate and there is the poor snake all knotted up like a garlic knot trying to be inconspicuous. I carefully place the towel over the snake and it doesn’t move. Both the snake and I are relieved - it has darkness and I now am absolutely sure that it’s not going anywhere. I slowly and gingerly lift it, still in the towel, to a chorus of “Careful! Careful!” However, the snake and I have come to an understanding - as proof, it barely stirs. I put snake and towel into the trash can and the snake doesn’t move. It’s all good.

“What are we going to do now?!? What are we going to do?!?” So it turns out some of us are still not “all good.” I inform my mother that we are going to take the snake outside slowly so we do not startle it and this will be the end of the snake. I commanded to not to release it any closer to the house that the road (which is about as far from the house as a football pitch is long.) I walk to the ditch, turn the trash can onto its side, and inform the snake that its all right to go. It slithers off while I admire it’s black & brown diamond design and its yellow belly.

Then I go into my house and inform my mother (who is very animatedly recounting the whole incident to my father on a cell phone) that I am a true believer as is proved by my snake handling. I knew it was ok to leave for work when she found this funny.

However, I did jump ever so slightly when I picked up my backpack to find....a dog leash all curled up underneath it.

You Know You're Tired....

2004-08-31T14:46:00.000-04:00

...when you think getting stuck in an elevator might be nice.
...when you sign your name twice to an email.
...when you forget to make coffee.

Of course, these all happened on separate days.

Oh the Girls All Dance with the Boys from the City

2004-08-27T16:12:00.000-04:00

On my drive into work, there is this one field which is always covered with Brown-Eyed Susan’s. It’s actually quite stunning – think about a smaller version of the fields of sunflowers you see in the French countryside. Anyway, there are almost no Brown-Eyed Susan’s, just a plain ol’green field of weeds. However, I noticed this morning that a quarter mile away, on the same side of the road, there is a field bursting with yellow that I’ve completely been missing because I’ve been wallowing in my disappointment over the first field. Maybe there is a metaphor here.

On the same drive into town, I also drove past two turkeys greeting a peacock. Seriously. I must admit that in all my country driving I have never once seen a peacock strolling down the side of the road – Chickens? Yes. Peacocks? No. – yet there it was, as blue as smurf, with that odd feather poking off the top of its head. Simply amazing!

The Weight of Being Loved

2004-08-25T14:05:00.000-04:00

I think one of the scariest looks I have ever received is that completely open look that a child gives you when he/she totally adores you and would trust you in anything. You actually see the heart sitting right there on their shoulders and you are never more thankful to be a decent person.

I guess I see it as a call to be better than I actually am – to not overly beat myself when I make mistakes, to be gracious to everyone who comes near me, to remember that there is a loving God who controls my fate – because, to a child who adores you, you set the bar. The child will remember that you snapped at your mother on the phone or panicked when you spilt the milk or worried too much the other night or didn’t have time to play. Really, it’s not so much that I feel as if I must be perfect, because the child will never be perfect. – It’s more how I react to my imperfections.

Fortunately, when a child runs to you adoringly, they are so blinded by love that they don’t notice if you tear up or if you point to your chest whispering, “Who? Me?” They don’t see your moment by moment resolve to be found worthy. They only see that you smile when they come near and they scamper way not seeing the weight they have left in their wake.

But it’s a weight that I would never ask to be removed.

Ahh....

2004-08-24T11:43:00.000-04:00

This is to sing the praises of my new Aladdin Stanley Thermos.

My coffee, made at 7:00 a.m., is still piping hot as it approaches noon.

No Laughing Matter

2004-08-23T14:00:00.000-04:00

I received a postcard in the mail on Friday to inform me that I had been scheduled for a doctor's appointment on 9/27 at 8:00 a.m. I thought I might better reschedule seeing as I do not return from South Africa until 11:00 a.m.

So, I called the office and tried to be funny. (One should never try to amuse medical receptionists, I've learned - or, perhaps, have not learned.) "I have an appointment at eight a.m., September 27th," I said, "but I'm afraid I will be unable to make it. See, I will not return to the country for another three hours."

"Hold just a minute, ma'am," said the receptionist and keystrokes fire in the background. "I'm extremely sorry. Your doctor has no more openings on the 27th."

"Please, do not worry yourself," I retorted. "I'm sure a later date would be preferable."

"As long as you're sure. Would the 30th work?"

I Just Wanted To Announce

2004-08-23T13:46:00.000-04:00

My family has once again won the Customer of the Month award at our mechanic's. The prize is a pen apiece and a very empty bank account. ;o)

You also get a bit of special attention since you are the ones that keep them in business!

To Think That I Saw It On Rosemary Street

2004-08-23T13:28:00.000-04:00

On my daily coffee run (which soon must end due to rising caffeine taxes), I took the Rosemary route. As I was approaching Columbia St., a huge bundle of feathers began to fall from the sky. As it sailed past my shoulder, I realized that it was not, in fact, a duster but a hawk swooping to catch...well, to be honest, I didn't really see. The poor bird was so zeroed in on his prey that he went crashing into a low hanging tree branch causing him to ungracefully plummet to the asphalt of the parking lot below. But our undaunted hero pushed off as soon as his feathers brushed the white parking line and launched towards the sky, swinging a quick right onto Airport Rd. - though I must admit that he did look a little tipsy.

This is what I saw. I think that the only thing seen by all the drivers waiting at the red light was a short twenty-something laughing hysterically by the side of the road. Spontaneous laughter by strangers walking along can be discomforting to the unaware.

Deviner

2004-08-20T09:53:00.000-04:00

I bought a CD yesterday on a whim. Three clues -

It is a band
Beginning with the letter "B"
Whose influences include the Beatles, the Byrds, and the Beach Boys.

First one to guess wins! ;o)

**New Clue: The group was formed in 1981, but did not find "top ten" success until 1986.**

One More Reason to Move to Paris

2004-08-18T12:00:00.000-04:00

You would actually have a shot of catching Souad Massi in concert. I think it will be a long time before she makes it down to North Carolina.

If you have never heard of her, you should listen in. You have no excuse - there is free hour long concert on BBC Radio's website.

Take Me Ridin’ In Your Car-Car: The Saga Continues

2004-08-17T10:29:00.000-04:00

I’m a little late in posting, but I was finally allowed to pick up my car last weekend after sixteen days of auto experiments. I think my car become a kind of Weekend Edition puzzle for auto mechanics. Everyone in the shop drove my car and tried to guess what was wrong: the wiring, the struts, etc. No one guessed correctly and they gave the car back. Fortunately, the cost was free.

However when I got into my car to drive home, I immediately jumped right back out again. It smelt like something had died in there! I rolled down all the windows, put the air on full blast, then got back into the car and drove home. The next day I cleaned it out and found the end of a Subway sandwich. In my defense, I was already late for work so I didn’t have time to clean out my car before taking it to the shop. Also, who knew they were going to have my car for over two weeks? So, I took out all the trash, windexed everything plastic, vacuumed out the car in town while blaring salsa music, then febreezed everything I could reach. It’s like a brand new car (that’s missing one side mirror.)

All was good in my grimy on the outside, shiny on the inside car until I tried to parallel park this weekend and barely kept my arms in their sockets. It was like trying to park a rusty caboose. Since I was already parked and in front of the used CD store, I first had to buy a Mazzy Star CD, then I drove to the gas station to put in more power steering fluid at my father’s suggestion – a good suggestions since my reservoir was completely dry. I figured that power steering fluid is like oil in that you need at least on container to fill up the tank. I still think this was a decent theory, but it is far, far from the truth. Trying to empty the whole container will only result in having power steering fluid all over your engine.

So, needless to say, I had sufficient fluid in my car, so I drove on to church revealing in how easy it was to steer. However, the caboose returned when I started driving again three hours later. My car went back to the shop that evening.

It was returned yesterday for a large fee. A busted hose – who’d a-thunk? I’m not quite sure what to do with my car now – this seems to have taken care of all of its sympathy groans. It’s just moves quietly like the cars on TV. I have to go pay up today. Today’s mantra is “Still less expensive than buying a car. Still less expensive than buying a car.”

Shiny, New Look

2004-08-10T09:28:00.000-04:00

Here you go - it's the new me. Well, I should probably admit that I haven't quite finished yet...links will be coming soon. I am also looking for a new commenting system, ideally one that is free, that will email the comments and that will not spam me like Andy's system.

NPR Quote of the Day

2004-08-09T12:45:00.000-04:00

The First Amendment protects you from being jailed, tortured, or executed for speaking your mind. Period. It is part of the United States Constitution which sets the rules for how our government behaves. It does not protect you from the consequences of making an ass out of yourself.
It is a little bit "touching" that so many Americans equate loosing your film in Las Vegas or the distributor for your film or your cushy role as a corporate spokesman with genuine government oppression. It reflects a failure to imagine a world where these things actually happen or, more correctly, a failure to imagine the world as it actually is.

- Mark Bowden from Misunderstanding the First Amendment as heard on NPR’s Morning Edition 8/9/2004

One Misty, Moisty Morning When Cloudy Was the WeatherI Ran Right Out The Front Door As Late As I May Ever.

2004-07-30T12:51:00.000-04:00

I ran across the yard and threw open the door of the car I am borrowing since my car decided to breathe smoke through its steering wheel column on Tuesday. Throwing my backpack in (and cursing because I, of course, had left my keys in the house), I saw a tail slip between the seats. This was a job for the brother.

So I called me faithful brother – yes, still outside with my cell phone – and asked him to please bring my keys outside and to please, please, please help me find the mouse/lizard/questionable creature. He began to bang on everything in the car and I soon joined in, but nothing stirred. Finally, deciding that I could be brave - and noting to myself that there is cure for rabies if I were to be bitten by the mouse/lizard/questionable creature – I climbed into the car to go to work. (Besides, if the creature will not come out when two "giants" are climbing over everything, then it logically follows that it will naturally not come out when I’m driving. Right?)

Unfortunately, we will never know – the car refused to start. What else was there to do but to take the BatTruck? [This is when I covet a digital camera. Just imagine a photo of my brother’s truck: a black Nissan with a bat symbol on the front.]

Alas for that my proper car at the mechanic still remainth.

Why Caribou Is Nicer Than Starbucks

2004-07-27T11:22:00.000-04:00

If you were to, let's say, spill your entire unsipped cup of coffee all over the table, chairs, and floor, Caribou employees will first bring you a new cup of coffee, then come over with a mop while they ask where you are from. Then they will tell you that people spill coffee all the time and that there is no need to worry about spilt beverages. Just drink your coffee and you can even spill it again if you want to.

Of course, they still are a chain who is helping to push out all locally owned coffee shops, but, really, for a chain they aren't so bad.

I’m Pacing the Streets of my Hometown

2004-07-26T10:11:00.000-04:00

Sometimes you glance up and realize what you’ve been missing. The past two weeks have been one of these times.

I was paid a visit last weekend by an old friend from Asheville. When all of us moved on, there were two camps: the first camp I shall call “thank-goodness-we-are-leaving”, the second “I-will-return-if-it-kills-me.” Liz and I both fell into the reluctant, I-will-return-if-it-kills-me camp.

Anyway, Liz asked me if given the choice (and if money & employment were not an issue) would I move back to Asheville or stay were I am. I didn’t even need time to reflect. I don’t want to move back. I don’t know if I want to stay here for the rest of my life, but I don’t think that would be so bad either.

I think I used to believe that you were really lucky if you had one friend you could count on in your geographical area. I’ve realized that recently I’ve developed a crowd. Some of them drive me crazy at times, however, they’re all here for the long haul and this is something I do not doubt. There are so many now, that I think half could move on and I would still feel surrounded.

Liz kind of made fun of how little there is to do around here. She’s actually right on – we are about as exciting as Stars Hollow, but I really can’t say that I’m ever bored. Besides, a slow life is worth living is this is what I gain.

Breaking News

2004-07-16T10:25:00.000-04:00

As some of you know, I am flying to South Africa in September for my cousin’s wedding along with a small crowd of relatives. Everyone else is staying for two weeks, but I can only stay for one. However, it turns out that my cousin’s fiancé’s son can only stay for a week as well. I am a decently experienced world traveler, but traveling with a seven-year-old will be a whole new world. Anyone have any suggestions?

No Hablo Espagñol

2004-07-16T10:00:00.000-04:00

Last night, I ate dinner with a family who attends my church. All of a sudden, the three-year-old starts talking with her mouth full of pizza and nobody can understand a word of what she is trying to say. Her father turns to her and says with great fatherly authority that we do not talk with food in our mouths. The daughter informs the father that she was not, in fact, talking with food in her mouth. The father informs the daughter that she was, in fact, talking with food in her mouth. Then the daughter responds, “Daddy, I was NOT talking. I was speaking Spanish!”

No…Really…I’m Fine

2004-07-12T17:03:00.000-04:00

Today, driving into work, a truck going in the opposite direction scattered about eight turkey vultures who crept into the sky, methodically flapping their two feet wings when suddenly the bird and the end keeled over, dropped four feet, then caught himself and flew off to the head of the line. Then I realized the power line was swinging back and forth rather vigorously. The vulture had flown right into it!

Random Lines

2004-07-06T13:40:00.000-04:00

There is no codfish in Mudville – Mighty Portugal has struck out. However, there is a new baby girl down in Austin, TX which I must admit is more exciting than a Portuguese win.

Terribly off subject, I met a little girl at a toy store yesterday who had an airline captain’s hat on backwards with little red locks sticking out of the sides. Then she had the tiniest glittered purse hooked over her elbow. She looked at me, bent her elbows so her hands where parallel to her shoulders and stated, “Look at me! I’m all dressed up!” Then she attempted to take the store’s doll for a stroll around the mall.

Seeing as I am following no specific form here, I have been working on a budget with a good friend of mine who is a champion budgeter. Do not ask me how long we have spent on this, just understand that there have been lots of three-year-old breaks not that grown-ups are always good at sticking to the topic at hand. We should hopefully finish tonight and I will not feel so guilty about financial matters. (If I could just win the lottery, this would be a non-issue.)

São Os Campeões

2004-07-02T09:59:00.000-04:00

I want to celebrate the 4th of July this year by watching Portugal win over Greece. It’s not that I have had feelings against the Greeks; it’s just that I have had very good experiences with the Portuguese. If they win there will be chourico, caldo verde and arroz doce in my kitchen. Just you wait!

And…if they win spectacularly, maybe I will attempt to make those cod fish balls that are always at weddings…

(Hmm...now I’m starving and this granola bar is just not cutting it anymore. Alas.)

Revolutionary Spirit

2004-06-30T12:41:00.000-04:00

NPR has a report today on how Chinese Christians are finding it more and more difficult to separate their faith from political action. Because the church feels that Christians are given great responsibility of society, they are angering the Communist Party who is trying to be more tolerant of religion as long as religion stays out of politics. I was really intrigued by the reporter's explanation that many intellectual converts see Christianity as the key to both personal and national salvation and that this view does actually hold some validity seeing the role the Catholic church played in 1980’s Poland. As one lady quoted “I think that is the kind of persons Christians should be.”

I must say that I was also struck by the respect the report gave to this group of Christians, but perhaps this is understandable. They are risking everything for something most westerners would see as indelible good.

Platform 9 3/4

2004-06-30T10:02:00.000-04:00

There are some people who I have never met and will probably never meet, but who I still love as fiercely as old and tested friends. Today, I was reminded that Joanne Rowling is one of these people. I am always taken aback by how much she respects and appreciates her readers, how she's never quite recovered from the realization that the masses love her stories, and how much she tries to use her new privileged status for global good.

There is a reason that I’m on a Rowling kick today. Thanks to Richard, I stumbled across an article announcing the title of the sixth Harry Potter book. I then followed the links to Rowling's own site. It seems that there was a rumored title also floating around that people where confusing with the new, revealed title. Rowling took it upon herself to set things straight explaining:

Information you take directly from this site will be truthful and accurate. (I might occasionally joke, but as time goes on, you’ll learn to tell when I’m joking). Do not trust anybody else claiming to have found information on this site that you cannot access, however seemingly convincing the images they provide to support their story.

If you are a Harry Potter fan, you’ll love the site. Go! Visit! There are wizards you've never heard of there!

(Oh...by the way...just so you'll know...the new title is Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince.

By George, He's Got It!

2004-06-28T15:49:00.000-04:00

My (soon to be) three-year-old friend, Jacob, can now count to cinq [5] - Uh, deh, twah, cat, sank.

He also informed me that passing his lemonade to him "was very sweet, Jamie!" Then he recited a Bengali nursery rhyme.

I also learned how to smile for a Fisher-Price camera. First you squint your eyes so you can barely see, then you show all your teeth with your lips in an oval (like Wallace & Gromit which he has never seen).

"Cheese!"

Thorns & Thistles

2004-06-25T11:26:00.000-04:00

When you pick blackberries
Your body is stabbed
Your skin is scratched
Your fingers turn blue
Like a newborn bruise
Your shirt is torn
(But shirts should be old)
Your calves itch
(Jeans shouldn’t be rolled)
Flies hover
(You are covered in juice)
But soon you are filled

So walk home now
With baskets too full
Of a hundred conquests
On a summer's eve

”It’s Obvious Talking to her that her Heart Remains at Camp Bucca” [Corrected]

2004-06-22T11:25:00.000-04:00

I had a conversation recently where I was told that, when in war, it is not always possible or appropriate to treat prisoners with dignity. I’ve also seen political comics mocking this notion, especially one in World Magazine when an Iraqi detainee is lounging in a recliner with a butler waiting on him hand an foot while a US soldier is asking if the detainee might share any information now. [Note: Both the conversation and the comic’s release were after the Abu Ghraib scandal broke.]

The comic especially infuriated me since it came from a Christian publication and I cannot find any justification in scripture to dehumanize someone. Anyway, all this is to say that I cannot say how much I appreciated NPR’s report, Angel of the Desert. It is about an Army Reserve Major named Stacy Garrity who was able to live out this idea of all humans should be treated with dignity. A colleague described it as “the most charitable, Christian act I think I’ve ever witnessed in my life.” As for me, she reminds me of Gladys Aylward in the way she embodied her beliefs and the power and healing this embodiment brought. Please give it a listen. It is so good to hear something good in the news. (Also, be sure to listen to the stories in the photo section.)

I Wanna Grab a Hold of That Little Song Bird

2004-06-21T19:30:00.000-04:00

I attended a wedding at Duke Chapel this past weekend where there are no bathrooms. In my fast hunt for such a facility before the service began, I ended up at Duke Divinity School. I froze because I was overcome with desire - desire such as, "Hey...I want to go to Divinity School." I don't know what this means, though I did send an inquiry to RTS' Virtual Campus. They called a few minutes ago because the head of the program erased my email and thus my mailing address. However, all has been straightened out and we shall see where things go from here. I get on kicks sometimes. This may all prove to be nothing.

I also have everything ready to record a demo and I have some mighty, fine new material if I can say so without being too cocky. (I don't think it's too arrogant. I've been practicing the art for over a decade. Like anything, success here is achieved by sweat and tears.) The only problem is that I have no idea how to run the equipment. I need to keep reading the manual. It will click - be assured, self.

I also heard another story on NPR taken from StoryCorps. I am developing a mild obsession with this organization. I like the fact that they see everyone as having an historically important story. I know so many people with such interesting stories. I have the equipment (well, minus the microphone) - hopefully, I will find a way to collect stories as well. There's a fulfilling occupation for you!

M.I.A.

2004-06-18T11:21:00.000-04:00

Consider this an update on life, books, etc. ...

My iBook is finally ordered and has arrived. It’s good to have a computer of my own - especially now that we have the printer and internet working on it. The Mbox (a miniature recording device for music) should be here today or tomorrow. Now that I’m beginning to gain some Apple intuition, I should be about ready to learn ProTools. Fortunately, Mark Williams has offered his tutoring services.
I was labeled a “such a feminist” by my pastor's wife for my statement that women’s groups wouldn’t be needed in the PCA if we had better doctrine regarding women’s role in the church and if women were not banned from anything excepting what is prohibited in scripture. If you don’t agree, blame either my Southern Baptist upbringing or Mardi Keyes' influence.
I finished Love Walked Among Us by Donald Miller. It’s not a hard read conceptually or linguistically, but it is probably the hardest applicable read I’ve come across. Not only does he end with a long quote by Anne Lamott, he has this story about Spurgeon that I must paraphrase because my copy is already lent out: Basically, Spurgeon looses his wife in the crowd at a rally where he was to speak because he was so focused on his message. His wife, after being jostled around quite a bit, finally makes her way home where her mother tells her that she is thinking too much of herself, that her husband is a servant of God and she must understand this. When Spurgeon arrives home, he listens to her grief and then explains that she must understand that he must be, first and foremost, a servant of God. Miller then exclaims (after saying that Spurgeon was a wonderful teacher) that not only was Spurgeon not loving his wife, that he was blaming it on God!
I also finished a biography on Gladys Aylward called The Small Woman by Alan Burgess. It’s a little chatty, but it's an amazing story of a woman who is so confident in God’s calling her to go to China that she pays her own way since the mission board had labeled her “unqualified.” She runs an Inn, is coerced into being a foot inspector by the Mandarin, works for the betterment of China’s poor and oppressed, eventually becomes a naturalized Chinese citizen, and leads over a hundred children to safety during the Japanese attacks of WW2 while she is suffering from typhoid. I thought this quote summed her principles up well:
In this land of high mountains and deep valleys, where living was meager and hard, Gladys grew to maturity. All that had gone before was a preparation for this, and this only a preparation for what was to come. She understood here that any religion which attempted to act as a chastity belt, or which was thin, humorless and arid, would be rejected by these simple mountain folk as they had rejected every other form of invasion. The religion she preached was a simple one. It told of strength through humility, wisdom through love, and life everlasting through faith. [86]

Well, that is it for now. I hope you enjoy the hyperlinks.

The Longest Sabbath Ever

2004-06-07T12:09:00.000-04:00

Sunday afternoon, it was discovered that the entire family had planned to be out-of-town this coming weekend. I, being the only one without a time-sensitive obligation, was obliged to cancel to take care of the animals. The plan was to go visit old friends in Asheville and I have to say that this was the only thing I was really looking forward to this summer. I think what stung the most was the pure logic of the decision. I needed a bit of pity, not an exhortation to learn to remember things better. I think I just wanted to be seen and to have my hopes treasured.

In the midst of this, I decided I should go visit my grandmother soon, that I needed to rest and that I would able to do so if I visited her. Then I remembered that this is no longer an option and that it will never be an option until I leave this earth. I think what I miss the most is the way she would look at me and actually see me and think I was wonderful, or the way everything else was cast aside when I would walk in her door because I was the more important. This was her greatest gift – at least in my eyes. It’s strange - we lost her a year and a half ago, but sometimes it still stings with newness and the world seems to be a darker place.

I’ve also been struck by how little control I have over life - others I treasure may be taken from me; responsibility will prevent me from achieving what I dream, even the little dreams; loved ones will hurt me, though hopefully unintentionally – and there is very little I can do to prevent any of this. The scary thing is that we are commanded to love which makes us extremely vulnerable. I must learn to walk in my family’s shoes even if it doesn’t seem that they are doing the same for me. I cannot hold grudges. I must treasure and adore others while recognizing that time is fleeting and they may be lost. The problem is not only that I suck at this, but that I have no desire to do this. Honestly, I just want these things done for me while I sit back and enjoy them.

This is a dark post and I don’t really have anything optimistic prepared to end it. My apologies.

I Wish That You Could See Me Flying In My Dreams

2004-06-04T10:15:00.000-04:00

There was a great interview with Patty Griffin today on NPR’s Morning Edition. Please check it out if you have time.

I only started listening to Patty recently, but it’s hard to remember this. My friend Mark had recommended her about three years ago, but I only bought her album two months back. When I called Mark to tell him that I was blown away, he merely replied, “I thought you’d like her.”

So what is it that draws me in? I think part of it is that music, like all the arts, is a grand conversation that has been taking place across the centuries. I’ve been hearing Patty quoted by many of the songwriters I have been influenced by – only I didn’t know I was hearing her voice. There is something extremely powerful in discovering the source of something so familiar. I can even look back at my own repertoire and see that many songs I have written have been part of this post-Griffin conversation - odd because I haven't written anything since I started listening to her.

However, it must be more because her music tears me to shreds. It took me two weeks to finish “Living with Ghosts.” There was something so right that it was painful, like when you must close your eyes because a sunset is too stunning. I think this comes, in part, by her paradoxical look at reality: hope next to despair, love next to broken hearts, poverty next to success. Sometimes I get a sense of her waving her hands in the air shouting that the world is not right, but that there is a right and maybe one day we’ll find it.

I also think she has given a validity to my own songwriting that no amount of “I really like that” can give because I able to look at her outside of myself. The truth is that I write really sad music, but I feel pressure with Asher Lev to draw something pretty - only I can’t. However, maybe there is something healing in a sad tune.

I’ll leave you with a quote from Gillian Welch’s “Miner’s Refrain” –

Now there's something good in a worried song
For the trouble in your soul
'Cause a worried man who's been a long way down
Down in a deep dark hole

More Childish Quotes

2004-06-02T09:27:00.000-04:00

I spent Memorial Day with a couple of families from my church. After having been around for twenty minutes of so, a blond, three-year-old girl pointed at me and exclaimed to her mother, “That looks like Jamie from church!”

"It is, honey, it is."

The Day After Tomorrow

2004-05-29T16:55:00.000-04:00

This was surprisingly not so bad. I must say the highlight of the film for me was when all the Southern Americans (it was too late to rescue those in the north) had to flee into Mexico or risk being frozen to death in the second Ice Age. When they reached the gate, the Mexicans closed the borders, so the Americans had to break down the fences and swim across the Rio Grande. It was a Non Sequitor strip in real flesh and blood.

I also gained a whole new appreciation for Noah and the Arc while watching waters spill over New York City and destroying everything humanity had made. I thought the film raised a lot of good questions that my fellow viewers seemed to miss in their reaction against the films “liberal” agenda. Some of the themes beyond the obvious one of environmental responsibility were that the poor have something to teach the rich, we shouldn’t put our hopes in things that can be destroyed, and the proud will be humbled.

Still, it was great to see the Third World save humanity. I love to see things turned on their heads.

Week O'Discoveries

2004-05-29T16:37:00.000-04:00

I can throw an American football with finesse. I even shocked my dad.
Bruce Springstein is a good songwriter.
Patty Griffin uses a DADDAD tuning quite often.

I’ll Get You My Pretty & Your Little Dog Too

2004-05-28T10:43:00.000-04:00

IT people will be the death of me. In every other office I worked have worked in, when an IT person wanted to work on your computer

They would ask if the could use your computer.
They would wait until you finished your current task so you could come to a stopping place.
They would give you an estimate of time so you knew when to return.
The would sit down to fix & update whatever they had to fix & update.

Here it’s all different.

They ask if they can get on your computer.
You say wait two minutes and it’s all yours.
They agree.
You come to a stopping point and sign off on your computer.
They begin to sign in.
You ask for a time estimate.
They say no more than 30 minutes.
You go for a thirty-plus minute break and then walk back to the office.
They haven’t started on your computer.
You tell them it’s too late, they missed their chance, go away and come back tomorrow (when this will all be repeated.)

Is it just me or is this a little unreasonable?

Children, Obey Your Parents in Everything…

2004-05-27T10:05:00.000-04:00

…for this pleases the Lord – and it might prevent you from becoming trapped under a double bed. Please, let me elaborate.

I have a bug infestation in my room, so I took off early from work yesterday so that I could move all the furniture around to vacuum and spray the baseboards with Raid. When I tried to move the bed, it kept falling off of the stilts it sits on. We have no closets in our house, so underneath the bed is the only storage space there is. We had even glued wooden blocks to the stilts so that everything would fit – only the glue wasn’t holding things together. This was the real problem

My mother, being a good mother, came to help me put things back together again since one cannot lift a bed frame and glue stilts to wooden blocks all at the same time. Because it was 10:00 and because my bed was now in the middle of the room, I wanted to move it back to its assigned corner. A reasonable desire, I would say. My mother informed me that this was impossible. I came up with a plan: she could slide the bed and I would push the stilts from underneath. My mother said this was a terrible idea, but went along with it anyway because I was quite persuasive.

As it turns out, wet glue is quite slippery so the bed went flying off the stilts leaving me pinned underneath and my mother laughing so hard that she was unable to assist me in any possible way except to command me to get out from under the bed. (I later informed her that she was not like Jesus in that a command gave me the ability to perform the commanded action.)

To conclude, after my adrenaline came down, I remember that the other side of the bed was higher so I scooted that way to free myself. I escaped unharmed except for a small welt on my forehead and a big one on my pride. To the day I die, any idea I propose will now be answered with “Do you not remember what happened when we tried to move the bed?”

And people think ordinary life is boring.

Weekly Run-Down

2004-05-23T11:13:00.000-04:00

Mike, Kristen, and Baby Stewart are back online as of last night! (And there was great rejoicing.)
My brother-in-law's graduation shin-dig was a success and I think he really enjoyed it. All the surrounding areas received thunderstorms except our little Piedmont township. We had clear skies and 93 degree weather. I can also report that my family is still quite nutty, but they make me laugh. (And now we have a fridge full of BBQ and a freezer full of ice-cream.)

Ahem. My coffee is ready. The lazy Sunday has begun.

Blue on Red

2004-05-22T23:28:00.000-04:00

I just wanted you, dear reader, to know that I just discovered that one of my L'Abri buddies has a photo on the Massachusetts L'Abri website of a painting she completed during our term. Heather and I bonded quickly because she loved Rosie Thomas as much as I did. She was quiet and sincere and amazingly talented. I forget sometimes, but I do miss her. (Why is it so hard to remember these things?)

This is a portrait of her youngest brother. You should take a minute to check it out.

2004-05-21T18:46:00.000-04:00

Encyclopedia Brown Would Know...

For the past week, the highlight of my evening has going to check on my one precocious raspberry. Today, I was filled with expectation because it was almost ripe when I went to check on it yesterday. I walked across the yard, slipped cautiously past the cow grazing in the field, rambled past the flower beds we planted Wednesday, scrambled behind the strawberry patch. I was at the raspberry bushes! I lifted the branch and peek at the...only my raspberry was gone! I checked carefully underneath the bush, but there was no sign of glowing red. I inspected the naked stem - it was clean - so there was no way it was a bird. Someone nicked my prize raspberry! What sort of person steals a woman's raspberry - even if she is a bit quirky, eh? I've been waiting two years for this moment! Too much passion. Now, I'll never be a Jedi.

[.sretniap eht saw ti kniht I]

2004-05-21T14:56:00.000-04:00

If Only

I wanted to tell Kristen that her suggestion of Yahoo radio was a good one. I wanted to tell Kristen that it has made my long hours at work a bit more bearable. I want to tell Kristen that it's amazing to hear a radio station play Patty Griffin, Mahalia Jackson, The Go-Go's, followed by the Smiths. However, Kristen is still MIA.

Alas. I also wanted to tell Kristen that she could check out my station at anotherway_nc.

2004-05-21T12:45:00.000-04:00

Oh No!

Mike?

Kristen?

Baby Stewart?

You guys out there?

Hello?

(I do believe This Classical Life is missing today!)

2004-05-20T15:38:00.000-04:00

All Come to Look for America

I don't use the interstate regularly in my day-to-day life since it's usually quicker (and always more beautiful) to take country highways. Now that the interstate has become a novelty I am having trouble getting off at the correct exit. It's not that I phase out, but that I know if I keep driving that I will end up somewhere new, somewhere not routine. I think this is partly motivated by the fact that I have not left this area at all since Thanksgiving, excepting one day trip to Danville, VA. I need an escape plan - however, I don't think I'm going to get much further than Asheville this summer. Asheville is sort of exciting, that is in a nostalgic, already-in-my-blood sort of way.

There's always South Africa in the September. I should remember to recall this. Perhaps I will paste pictures on my dashboard to replace my sun-faded endangered species pictures. Now South Africa is definitely exciting, especially in an I-even-get-to-change-seasons sort of way. I've never been anywhere close to South Africa before. Thanks goodness people still have weddings these days - and far from where I live.

Sometimes you just need a good dose of something different. Perhaps I'll finally get to play cricket.

2004-05-20T11:08:00.000-04:00

Recommendations

First, I would like to highlight Richard of Danger Blog for posting the Nickelback link. Basically, someone took two Nickelback hits and stuck one in the right speaker and the other in the left and they line up perfectly. They are even in the same key. Fascinating. I'm truly quite mesmerized.

Next up is Katie of Hints & Guesses who emailed the following quote to me yesterday. It's a bit long, but definitely worthy of a close read. Lewis is just sometimes able to caputure the most fleeting of thoughts to give them form and breath. All of a sudden you feel as if you are dealing with something solid. Anyway, without further ado, read on:

You may have noticed that the books you really love are bound together by a secret thread. You know very well what is the common quality that makes you love them, though you cannot put it into words: but most of your friends do not see it at all, and often wonder why, liking this, you should also like that. Again, you have stood before some landscape, which seems to embody what you have been looking for all your life; and then turned to the friend at your side who appears to be seeing what you saw — but at the first words a gulf yawns between you, and you realize that this landscape means something totally different to him, that he is pursuing an alien vision and cares nothing for the ineffable suggestion by which you are transported. Even in your hobbies, has there not always been some secret attraction which the others are curiously ignorant of — something, not to be identified with, but always on the verge of breaking through, the smell of cut wood in the workshop or the clap-clap of water against the boat's side? Are not all lifelong friendships born at the moment when at last you meet another human being who has some inkling (but faint and uncertain even in the best) of that something which you were born desiring, and which, beneath the flux of other desires and in all the momentary silences between the louder passions, night and day, year by year, from childhood to old age, you are looking for, watching for, listening for? You have never had it. All the things that have ever deeply possessed your soul have been but hints of it — tantalizing glimpses, promises never quite fulfilled, echoes that died away just as they caught your ear. But if it should really become manifest — if there ever came an echo that did not die away but swelled into the sound itself — you would know it. Beyond all possibility of doubt you would say "Here at last is the thing I was made for". We cannot tell each other about it. It is the secret signature of each soul, the incommunicable and unappeasable want, the thing we desired before we met our wives or made our friends or chose our work, and which we shall still desire on our deathbeds, when the mind no longer knows wife or friend or work. While we are, this is. If we lose this, we lose all.
- C.S. Lewis

2004-05-18T10:21:00.000-04:00

Good Night Bears Sitting on Chairs

Last night, I went over to my pastor’s house for dinner. His son (who is going on three) was informed that once we finished our cake it would be bedtime. The cake was eaten while he ran about the room. Once we had all finished, he was asked, “Who do you want to put you to bed: Mommy or Daddy?”

The boy answered promptly, “Jamie!”

2004-05-16T21:14:00.000-04:00

...But Do Not Have Love...

At church, we have this recurrent theme of loving those around us and loving our community. How do we do this? We disadvantage ourselves for another's benefit.

Love seems like a simple thing - we even tend to mock people who claim that all we need is love. I'm starting to believe the Beatles were more profound than they realized - if we can define love according to Paul's famous chapter. I believe this sort of love would be world changing. However, though it is not too much to ask that I love in this manner, I know that I cannot truly do so.

It is easy to forgo buying a new CD so that I have money to buy socks for a homeless man. It is easy to leave work early so I can pick someone up from the airport. It is unimaginably difficult to truly sacrifice my own desires and longings for another's benefit and it seems like the closer the individual is to my heart, the more difficult I find this task. It even seems to become more difficult in direct proportion to the awareness I have of what keeps me from loving - mainly my selfishness and my fears.

Maybe all we can do is to resolve to love as we ought, all the while understanding that we will come up short. When we fail at the task, we attempt to rid ourselves of selfishness, fear, & pride. Then we climb back up and try again as we resolve to repeat this reattempt the next time we stumble. It's not what I desire, it smells a bit like Sisyphus, but the resolve and reattempt is all I can be sure of.

"But when the perfect comes, the partial will be done away."

2004-05-14T11:48:00.000-04:00

Can It Be?

On Sale Now!

2004-05-13T10:02:00.000-04:00

Something Borrowed, Something Blue

I received this link in my inbox this morning. Please remember that it is parody, only parody. However, it does reveal the illogic some use when debating whether women should be ordained – or, more broadly, why women should be prohibited from many roles. Again, this is only parody…

Ten Reasons According To The Natural Order Of The World, Social
Custom, And Theology Why Men Should Not Be Ordained

The male physical build indicates that men are more suited to tasks such as picking turnips or de-horning cattle. It would be "unnatural" for them to do other forms of work. How can we argue with nature?
For men who have children, their duties as ministers might detract from their responsibilities as parents. Instead of teaching their children important life skills like how to make a wiener-roasting stick, they would be off at some committee meeting or preparing a sermon. Thus these unfortunate children of ordained men would almost certainly receive less attention from their male parent.
According to the Genesis account, men were created before women, presumably as a prototype. It is thus obvious that men represent an experiment, rather than the crowning achievement of creation.
Men are overly prone to violence. They are responsible for the vast majority of crime in our country, especially violent crime. Thus they would be poor role models, as well as being dangerously unstable in positions of leadership.
In the New Testament account, the person who betrayed Jesus was a man. His lack of faith and ensuing punishment stands as a symbol of the subordinate position that all men should take. It is expected that even ordained men would be unable to withstand the natural male tendency to buckle under pressure.
Jesus didn't ordain men. He didn't ordain any women either, but two wrongs don't make a right.
Men are simply too emotional to be ordained. Their conduct at football matches, in the army, at political conventions and especially at Promise Keepers Rallies amply demonstrates this tendency.
Many men are simply too handsome to lead public worship. They could prove to be a distraction to the women in the congregation!
To be an ordained pastor is to nurture and strengthen a whole congregation. But these are not traditional male roles. Throughout the history of Christianity, women have been considered to be not only more skilled than men at nurturing, but also more fervently attracted to it. If men try to fit into this nurturing role, our young people might grow up with severe gender role confusion.
If the Church is the Bride of Christ, then it goes without saying that all ordained leaders should be female. It just makes theological sense!

2004-05-12T20:38:00.000-04:00

It's True.

And I'm stunned. Jell-O Pudding Pops have returned. Is there anything else to say?

(I've eaten three this evening.)

2004-05-12T11:02:00.000-04:00

To Complicate Matters

It is strange to me that I keep hearing that the release of the Abu Ghraib photos are complicating matters in Iraq. To me it seems clear that the complication does not arrive from the photos, but from the abuse itself. Besides, this is the role of a free press within democratic societies – this is part of the system of checks and balances.

I also hold a deep belief that evil will eventually be brought to light and shown for what it is.

2004-05-11T22:16:00.000-04:00

Do You Believe in Fairies?

Tonight is the first night that I have really noticed that the fireflies have made their summer return. The cedar trees out here attract a sort of self-illuminating bug that I had never before noticed until my family moved into the country. In the suburbs, we had lightening bugs who wore one golden bulb that they would flash lazily in dark heavy strokes, lazily like a middle aged women window shopping in August. Our country fireflies burn their lamp with such intensity that it seems to burst and fade before the first flicker appears. These quickly burning insects settle into the trees outlining the Piedmont fields as if stars had nestled into their branches and flash so rapidly and patternlessly that you begin to feel as though you are watching a storm - even if the air is still.

I am beginning to question my doubts regarding the existence of fairies.

2004-05-11T09:02:00.000-04:00

A Wrinkle in Time

Last night, I watched the Canadian TV movie, A Wrinkle in Time. I am always a little wary when books are translated to the screen, but they really did do a good job at capturing L'Engle's book. Of course, a film can never contain all the depth a novel might - still they did not alter the main flow of the plot.

I must say that this is one of my favorite stories ever - and I do not mean "book," I really do mean "story." An awkward, self-despising teenager, Meg, sets off with her brilliant five-year-old brother, Charles Wallace, and the most popular kid in her school, Calvin, to save her missing father. In their journey, they are guided by three mysterious beings who are good, faulty, and awe-inspiration, but cannot intervene in the outcome. Throughout the story, Meg must face her fear of the unknown, fear of loss, fear of others' approval, and fear of suffering - not to mention coming face-to-face with evil. What makes this story so glorious is that such a fearful, unsure heroine is able to defeat such a solid & powerful evil. He has chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty. [189]

My one complaint is, similar to Harry Potter and the Return of the King, the screenwriters did not allow evil to be truly evil, or perhaps they allowed Meg to be too powerful. In L'Engle's book, Meg is able to free Charles Wallace from the clutches of IT by calling him to herself in love. Through this process, she does realize that she could destroy IT if she could somehow bring herself to love IT, but the narrator informs us that, though this may be true, Meg is too weak to love such a thing as IT. Perhaps it was not too much to ask of her, but she could not do it. [195] However, in the film, Meg is able to destroy IT and ultimately frees the citizens of Camazotz by loving her brother - not by loving her enemy.

Even stranger, she is later informed that she will be a great help in battling the darkness on Earth, but that even she is not strong enough to defeat it. However, this just doesn't make sense since Camazotz is a dark planet (or a planet completely overtaken by darkness) where Earth is a planet that is in shadow, but is battling the darkness. However, though Meg's weakness in Earth's battle may not logically follow, I still believe that it might have been the saving grace for the movie's end. Meg is a paradox of importance yet feebleness when it comes to battling darkness. She cannot make all right, but she is left with hope - hope that, though the battle may be long and dark, that victory will be tasted and our efforts will not be wasted in the effort.

2004-05-09T00:27:00.000-04:00

Rumsfeld

Rumsfeld did apologize and I must say it’s more than I hoped for. Of course, it doesn’t fit all my ideals, but they are not often all satisfied. Though this is a very evil situation – and I do think evil is the right word – I’m left feeling a little unnerved about myself. I think I have forgotten that, as frustrated as I get with politicians, they are still people as faulty and frail as I myself am. Rumsfeld is the politician I have the most issues with currently. I don’t like the way he conducts himself and I don’t appreciate his confidence because I interpret it as arrogance. However, today I feel great compassion for him, even pity. I must say I commend his speech even if it is not perfect. It is hard enough to admit to wrong – how much more to an international audience? This took guts and I do think it was heartfelt. We may disagree on a whole plethora of principles, but today I must commend him.

2004-05-07T12:04:00.000-04:00

All Apologies

Bush did finally apologize for the abuses at Abu Ghraib prison. I am glad that he finally apologized, but I am still left wanting.

I think I want us to take responsibility for our actions as a nation. It just isn’t enough to say “I’m sorry for your loss.” However, I am glad for a strong call for justice. Actually, I think this is what bothers me: though justice may bring a certain satisfaction to the abused, it cannot cover all the wrong that has been done. The evil is out of our hands and the taint will remain. I think we have not officially recognized this yet.

Rumsfeld is expected to apologize today. I’m sure there will be more remarks later.

2004-05-06T11:00:00.000-04:00

Foreign Countries & Destitute Parts of the Church

Andy beat me to it. He is much more organized than I am (and he has his own computer) so it was bound to happen.

My hometown of Carrboro, NC has officially been deemed a "destitute part of the Church" by the Presbyterian Church in America - well, perhaps officially is unfair; indirectly would be a better word. However, I'll let Andy explain (since he did beat me to the punch.)

Follow the white rabbit.

2004-05-05T11:08:00.000-04:00

Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller

I finished this morning on the bus ride to work leaving a big empty space to reflect between Weaver Street and my stop. I must say I liked it as a whole. I would consider it to be a memoir of one man's struggle to define Christianity in terms of his experience instead of his Southern Baptist upbringing. In this, he focused on his hostility toward religious people, his difficulties in loving others, how he sometimes feels more loved by non-Christians, and his slow process of change.

I thought the writing was a bit choppy, like reading a book composed on Hotmail. However, the stories were so engrossing that I tended to forget this fact - or to even enjoy it, I must admit. Anyway, here are a few memorable quotes....

I was even more amazed when I realized that I preferred, in fact, the company of hippies to the company of Christians. It isn’t that I didn’t love my Christian friend or that they didn’t love me, it was just that there was something different about my hippie friends; something, I don’t know, more real, more true. I realize that this is a provocative statement, but I only felt like I could be myself around them and I could not be myself around my Christian friends. My Christian communities had always had little unwritten social ethics like don’t cuss and don’t support Democrats and don’t ask tough questions about the Bible.

I stayed in the woods a month. I wanted to stay longer, but I had secured a job in Colorado at a Christian camp and needed to honor that agreement. [p.210]

(On running a confession booth during a campus festival where Christians could repent of their sins to non-Christians.)

“What are you confessing?” He asked.

I shook my head and looked at the ground. “Everything,” I told him.

“Explain,” he said.

“There is a lot. I will keep it short,” I started. “Jesus said to feed the poor and to heal the sick. I have never done very much about that. Jesus said to love those who persecute me. I tend to lash out, especially if I feel threatened, you know, if my ego gets threatened. Jesus did not mix his spirituality with politics. I grew up doing that. I got in the way of the central message of Christ. I know that was wrong, and I know that a lot of people will not listen to the words of Christ because people like me, you know, carry our own agendas into the conversation rather than just relaying the message that Christ wanted to get across. There’s a lot more, you know.”

“That’s alright, man, “Jake said, very tenderly. His eyes were starting to water.

“Well,” I said, clearing my throat, “I am sorry for all that.”

“I forgive you,” Jake said. And he meant it. [p. 122]

2004-05-05T10:44:00.000-04:00

I Am Not The Only One

"Asked if it would be appropriate for him to apologize to the Iraqi people on behalf of Americans, Bush said he would await a briefing Wednesday by Rumsfeld on the investigations 'and then I'll take the appropriate response after that,' according to an account in Wednesday's Columbus Dispatch. "

"Defense Secretary Donald H. Rumsfeld did not directly apologize for the abuses in a Wednesday appearance on ABC's Good Morning America, but said, 'Any American who sees the photographs that we've seen has to be feel apologetic to the Iraqi people who have been abused and recognize that that is something that is unacceptable.' "

[ Article ]