In light of the fact that my entry into the Presidential Race is getting closer everyday, I thought I'd shed light on one of the most embarassing skeletons in my closet in the interest of Full Disclosure, so that when the Republican Dirty Tricks campaign begins against me in earnest, this will be old news to my supporters.
At one time, I considered myself something of a rock star.
No, its true.
As a writer, I sometimes call upon myself heretofore hidden talents that I've suddenly discovered I had and wish to share with the world. For instance, while writing my book, I discovered my heretofore hidden talent of Genetic Research Genius! Though, I admit, this talent was distracting to my ultimate goal of Entertainment Mogul and so I did not inform the CDC of my latent ability. In the case of the aforementioned skeleton, however, I discovered my hidden talent as a rock star/lyrical genius.
I have these characters, see, called Marvin and Ze Pink Paper Kups. They are the ultimate quintessential rock group with a silly name - masters of the rock universe. However, for the benefit of the imaginationless, I had to provide further evidence of their awesomeness for my readers, so I wrote a few of their songs... an entire album worth's actually. But as anyone knows whose ever written a song, you can't just write the incredibly awesome lyrics - a tune is also required. And so, I created an entire album's worth of awesome music for my characters who were masters of the rock universe. And, on occassion, I actually found myself humming along to these wonderful creations of mine.
Which brings me to the skeleton.
At one point, til too young to be able to blame alcohol for my temporary flight of fancy, I decided to actually create this album - physically - on a blank audio tape. I sat down in my basement with the microphone, the lyrics, and my incredible rock star voice, and I sang every single song on the album. In my head, I heard the screaming crowds and the swooning women and saw the Hell's Angels bodyguards throwing stage divers off the stage as fireworks exploded all around me and electric guitars blared. On the tape, however, is a low quality audio recording of me singing really bad lyrics with no backing music whatsoever.
And so, I decided to give the tape to a friend of mine to tell me what he thought. This guy was the nirvana of cool who actually had his own musical band at the time and would eventually go on to work on several Oscar nominated films, though not in the music field. I can't say whether my tape "cured" him of his rock star dreams, but they probably showed him the possibilities. Anyway, when I handed the tape to him and explained what it was, I remember the pitiful gaze he gave me - picture Simon about to lecture William Hung before his "Comeback" tour and you've got the approximate idea.
That look burst my bubble better than any actual comment could ever do. With one look, not having heard a single note of my rock star delusion, I knew what the world was going to think of my album. It suddenly became clear to me how insane my idea had been and how delusional I had been.
Um... unfortunately... I cannot confirm destruction of this tape, and thus its possible that somewhere out there this particular skeleton might exist. Let us hope for all of our sakes that my friend climbed to the top of Mt. Doom and chucked this evil tape into the fiery magma inside. Otherwise, hearing this audio deconstruction might just convince the world that it is one of the signs of the apocalypse to come.
Now, I am fully disclosed.
P.S. I still hum the tunes from time to time, however. I still think some of them are pretty catchy. ;)
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
My Unofficial Girl Scout Cookie Badge
I was never a scout... at least, not officially. As a dutiful older brother, I helped my sister sell girl scout cookies (and eat them) when she was younger. As a dutiful older "Uncle", I help certain denizens of The Beach sell girl scout cookies (and eat them) here at work and elsewhere. All told, without any actual figures in front of me (like the U.S. Intelligence Community), I calculate that I've probably sold close to 20,000,000 boxes of girl scout cookies in my life time. And I've never once earned a Girl Scout Cookie Badge. I'm not lobbying for this honor... I'm just saying... I'm not sure what the cutoff is for earning your badge, but I think I've probably earned my badge by now.
I was watching Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, which, quite frankly, needs a title change since most people don't even remember the rather creepy Extreme Makeover upon which the title is based. Anyway, there was a scene in this week's episode where one of the designers turned up at a local school to help out a bunch of kids who were volunteering to clean up the school. My initial thought was, "What a bunch of nerds and extra-credit seekers! In the old days, the trouble-makers would have been forced to come in on their weekend and clean up the yard and the grafitti and their parents would have gladly seen that their youngsters complied with the "forced" labor because a) it would have gotten the trouble makers out of the house for a Saturday morning and afternoon, and b) a little hard work gives character. But now..."
I'm not quite sure when volunteerism was needed to get things like this done. I don't ever remember "volunteering" for anything when I was in grade school or Jr. High. I remember a vice-principal getting a bunch of us sixth graders to clean up the yard one class period in exchange for those "good citizenship" awards that usually came with free Giants Tickets, but we did that for obvious reasons (and we also got out of class for an hour ;) Then again, as bad as people complained back then about school budgets, there was usually money around to keep schools clean.
Nowadays, volunteerism is a requirement - which is a way, I think, to teach children the concept of an oxymoron. Most high school students must do a certain number of volunteer hours before they can graduate. I'm not sure if this is a teaching thing or simply a means to instill morality in our youth. The fact of the matter is that most kids end up doing the volunteer thing on their own - and I would venture to say that most youths are better at volunteering their time than most adults. This can only be good for our world, either way, but I find it oddly unpleasant to suggest that people MUST volunteer to help others less fortunate than themselves.
As adults we should set clear examples for our children that volunteerism isn't anything showy or flashy or something to be praised, but that it should be like cleaning your room, or washing the dishes, or doing our homework - something that needs to be done, no questions asked, and no rewards given.
Okay, maybe one award... something small, almost insignificant... a token really, a reminder of a job well done for, oh, say, twenty years of service and 2,000,000 boxes of cookies sold... something like a badge! ;)
I was watching Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, which, quite frankly, needs a title change since most people don't even remember the rather creepy Extreme Makeover upon which the title is based. Anyway, there was a scene in this week's episode where one of the designers turned up at a local school to help out a bunch of kids who were volunteering to clean up the school. My initial thought was, "What a bunch of nerds and extra-credit seekers! In the old days, the trouble-makers would have been forced to come in on their weekend and clean up the yard and the grafitti and their parents would have gladly seen that their youngsters complied with the "forced" labor because a) it would have gotten the trouble makers out of the house for a Saturday morning and afternoon, and b) a little hard work gives character. But now..."
I'm not quite sure when volunteerism was needed to get things like this done. I don't ever remember "volunteering" for anything when I was in grade school or Jr. High. I remember a vice-principal getting a bunch of us sixth graders to clean up the yard one class period in exchange for those "good citizenship" awards that usually came with free Giants Tickets, but we did that for obvious reasons (and we also got out of class for an hour ;) Then again, as bad as people complained back then about school budgets, there was usually money around to keep schools clean.
Nowadays, volunteerism is a requirement - which is a way, I think, to teach children the concept of an oxymoron. Most high school students must do a certain number of volunteer hours before they can graduate. I'm not sure if this is a teaching thing or simply a means to instill morality in our youth. The fact of the matter is that most kids end up doing the volunteer thing on their own - and I would venture to say that most youths are better at volunteering their time than most adults. This can only be good for our world, either way, but I find it oddly unpleasant to suggest that people MUST volunteer to help others less fortunate than themselves.
As adults we should set clear examples for our children that volunteerism isn't anything showy or flashy or something to be praised, but that it should be like cleaning your room, or washing the dishes, or doing our homework - something that needs to be done, no questions asked, and no rewards given.
Okay, maybe one award... something small, almost insignificant... a token really, a reminder of a job well done for, oh, say, twenty years of service and 2,000,000 boxes of cookies sold... something like a badge! ;)
Friday, January 25, 2008
Average Day
I realize in some of the blogs I write that I might create some sense of who I am in the subjects that I choose to write about. But I don't really blog about myself all that much. I tend to blog about things I've done or things I'm thinking or experiencing, but not really about me. So, it occurred to me that it might help people understand my blog if they understood a little bit more about me.
What follows, then, is a description of the average day in the life of me - in so much as any day can be average. What I will describe will be a typical work day, since I almost never blog on weekends.
I wake up at 7:00am. My radio alarm clock is set to KNBR68 - the local sports station. I'm not actually a big fan of the KNBR morning show, but I'm certain that they'll always wake me up. I usually lie in bed long enough to get the sports scores from the night before at the top of the hour sports update, then I sit up in bed and turn on my TV (a habit I formed in the days following 9-11) and watch about ten minutes of news. I use this time to focus my brain on the crawling news stories across the bottom of the screen. Since I have to focus my eyes as well as my attention, I find this a good excercise for the first thing in the morning.
After that I shower, shave, and get dressed, then stop and read the comics on my way out to the Ford Explorer. My commute into work is about 15 to 30 minutes depending on the traffic, but more typically on the 15 to 20 minute scale. My work is out by the airport and the hardest part is crossing the freeway to get to it. Once I'm across the freeway, it goes quickly.
I arrive at work and head up to my big spacious office where I turn on my computer and then go check the fax machine for overseas faxes. I grab a cuppa and then check e-mails, blogs, and other assorted news updates (Aintitcoolnews and a few Disney news feeds). By that point, I'm firmly ready to get to work.
I work in the morning until 10:30am and then I head out for a quick 15 minute break. If the sun is out, I take a 15 minute walk. If its raining or cold, I go out to my car, turn on the stereo, and read or write for 15 minutes. I like to read all sorts of books (also a good time to do homework) but I also write notes for my book, or whatever project happens to be in my mind at the time.
After my break, I come back and check my e-mails again and then work until lunch time. At lunch, I'm actually pretty flexible. It depends on the day. Sometimes I eat fast food, sometimes I walk, sometimes I write or read, or some combination of everything. During school, I often find my lunch hour devoted to running into school to pick up film equipment.
After lunch, I again check my e-mails before getting back to work. My work is mostly feast or famine. There are times, like the last couple of weeks, where I barely have a second to come up for air. I generate a lot of reports while I check stock levels, help the birthing process of new products, or oversee the testing of all our products for safety issues. I'm always at the beck and call of my two bosses (the President and Vice President) who drop new projects in my lap every single day. I work diligently on every project until they are done. But, honestly, after staring at spreadsheets for most of a day, I need a mental break every once in a while and I'll go walk around the building and catch up with my co-workers about once a day.
I take a second break around 3:30pm, and, again, walk or read depending on the weather. And then I work until closing at 5:00pm (or later, depending on the amount of work I'm doing).
Now, my real day begins. For the most part, what I consider a normal evening probably doesn't sound much different than what you consider a normal evening. I go home, change clothes, have dinner, and then watch TV or work on my various projects (write, website, film, etc...). The fact that I rarely ever get to do a "normal" evening should have no bearing on what I consider normal.
Lately, I've been filling my evenings with activities just about every night. In addition to class once a week, I also have the occasional basketball game, Church Choir rehearsal, and Youth Group to take up my time. And believe it or not, this is better than it was in the past. During the final stretch of my novel, I was writing about three to four hours a night. I'd get up from my computer screen stiff from the lack of movement.
In general, that's what I do most of the day. One creative idea chases another and often interupts more productive "work related" thoughts. If I'm not contemplating my novel or working on a new game for Youth Group or envisioning the next great filmic masterpiece, then I'm probably sussing out the problem in an incredibly complex spreadsheet formula. Indeed, I think one of the reasons I enjoy my job as much as I do is that in turning my hands and body over to the mindless drudgery of spreadsheets, I can leave my brain free to contemplate more important matters - like the dangers of immigration or how one might go about shutting down the internet. Some of these thoughts get hunted down and form the basis of many of my blog posts, so, in a sense, my blog posts are a snapshot of my brain at any given moment of the day. And as such, you can see that my concerns and thoughts are all over the board and invariably have nothing to do with spreadsheets.
My ego is hurt by the lack of star acclaim here at ICON. Its like a bad cliche of a Hollywood Agent whispering in my ear, "Will, you are the greatest writer of a generation. People should be adoring you. Why the heck are you stuck writing for this podunk little blog?" But the real me wants none of that. Fame is elusive mostly because I don't crave it. I'd much rather craft a great story and get little attention than craft a small story and get great attention. But when it comes to blogging, I use this blog to merely clear out the cockles of my brain, to empty it of passing thoughts and fleeting fancies and righteous indignation - all the useless things that come to my head during the day.
So that's my average day. And these are my average thoughts. I hope you have an above average weekend.
What follows, then, is a description of the average day in the life of me - in so much as any day can be average. What I will describe will be a typical work day, since I almost never blog on weekends.
I wake up at 7:00am. My radio alarm clock is set to KNBR68 - the local sports station. I'm not actually a big fan of the KNBR morning show, but I'm certain that they'll always wake me up. I usually lie in bed long enough to get the sports scores from the night before at the top of the hour sports update, then I sit up in bed and turn on my TV (a habit I formed in the days following 9-11) and watch about ten minutes of news. I use this time to focus my brain on the crawling news stories across the bottom of the screen. Since I have to focus my eyes as well as my attention, I find this a good excercise for the first thing in the morning.
After that I shower, shave, and get dressed, then stop and read the comics on my way out to the Ford Explorer. My commute into work is about 15 to 30 minutes depending on the traffic, but more typically on the 15 to 20 minute scale. My work is out by the airport and the hardest part is crossing the freeway to get to it. Once I'm across the freeway, it goes quickly.
I arrive at work and head up to my big spacious office where I turn on my computer and then go check the fax machine for overseas faxes. I grab a cuppa and then check e-mails, blogs, and other assorted news updates (Aintitcoolnews and a few Disney news feeds). By that point, I'm firmly ready to get to work.
I work in the morning until 10:30am and then I head out for a quick 15 minute break. If the sun is out, I take a 15 minute walk. If its raining or cold, I go out to my car, turn on the stereo, and read or write for 15 minutes. I like to read all sorts of books (also a good time to do homework) but I also write notes for my book, or whatever project happens to be in my mind at the time.
After my break, I come back and check my e-mails again and then work until lunch time. At lunch, I'm actually pretty flexible. It depends on the day. Sometimes I eat fast food, sometimes I walk, sometimes I write or read, or some combination of everything. During school, I often find my lunch hour devoted to running into school to pick up film equipment.
After lunch, I again check my e-mails before getting back to work. My work is mostly feast or famine. There are times, like the last couple of weeks, where I barely have a second to come up for air. I generate a lot of reports while I check stock levels, help the birthing process of new products, or oversee the testing of all our products for safety issues. I'm always at the beck and call of my two bosses (the President and Vice President) who drop new projects in my lap every single day. I work diligently on every project until they are done. But, honestly, after staring at spreadsheets for most of a day, I need a mental break every once in a while and I'll go walk around the building and catch up with my co-workers about once a day.
I take a second break around 3:30pm, and, again, walk or read depending on the weather. And then I work until closing at 5:00pm (or later, depending on the amount of work I'm doing).
Now, my real day begins. For the most part, what I consider a normal evening probably doesn't sound much different than what you consider a normal evening. I go home, change clothes, have dinner, and then watch TV or work on my various projects (write, website, film, etc...). The fact that I rarely ever get to do a "normal" evening should have no bearing on what I consider normal.
Lately, I've been filling my evenings with activities just about every night. In addition to class once a week, I also have the occasional basketball game, Church Choir rehearsal, and Youth Group to take up my time. And believe it or not, this is better than it was in the past. During the final stretch of my novel, I was writing about three to four hours a night. I'd get up from my computer screen stiff from the lack of movement.
In general, that's what I do most of the day. One creative idea chases another and often interupts more productive "work related" thoughts. If I'm not contemplating my novel or working on a new game for Youth Group or envisioning the next great filmic masterpiece, then I'm probably sussing out the problem in an incredibly complex spreadsheet formula. Indeed, I think one of the reasons I enjoy my job as much as I do is that in turning my hands and body over to the mindless drudgery of spreadsheets, I can leave my brain free to contemplate more important matters - like the dangers of immigration or how one might go about shutting down the internet. Some of these thoughts get hunted down and form the basis of many of my blog posts, so, in a sense, my blog posts are a snapshot of my brain at any given moment of the day. And as such, you can see that my concerns and thoughts are all over the board and invariably have nothing to do with spreadsheets.
My ego is hurt by the lack of star acclaim here at ICON. Its like a bad cliche of a Hollywood Agent whispering in my ear, "Will, you are the greatest writer of a generation. People should be adoring you. Why the heck are you stuck writing for this podunk little blog?" But the real me wants none of that. Fame is elusive mostly because I don't crave it. I'd much rather craft a great story and get little attention than craft a small story and get great attention. But when it comes to blogging, I use this blog to merely clear out the cockles of my brain, to empty it of passing thoughts and fleeting fancies and righteous indignation - all the useless things that come to my head during the day.
So that's my average day. And these are my average thoughts. I hope you have an above average weekend.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Back in the saddle again...
Its been quiet here at ICON for the past couple of days because I've been engaged in Annual Sales Meetings and a new class and a Youth Group realignment and all sorts of other things. Despite my best efforts, I seem to be getting drawn right back into the sordid and busy world I just left. I was actually enjoying my semi-retirement. I was reading books, watching movies, catching up with people. But that's all fading back into obscurity again and I'm being drawn back into the rat race.
Every time I try to get out, they keep pulling me back in.
*sigh*
Oh well, I'll try to get back here with insightful commentary of the sort found regularly at The Beach, Hinterland, and Bittersweet. But first, I have to have some insights.
Back to the slog I go...
Every time I try to get out, they keep pulling me back in.
*sigh*
Oh well, I'll try to get back here with insightful commentary of the sort found regularly at The Beach, Hinterland, and Bittersweet. But first, I have to have some insights.
Back to the slog I go...
Monday, January 21, 2008
Clarity of Coincidences
As a prologue to this topic, here is what I think on issues of immigration - nothing. Honestly, the issue has never been very interesting to me. I am, like most Americans, completely unaffected by the issues. I don't see my tax dollars disappearing except once on April 15th, and if I ever had any control over those tax dollars, I would certainly stop funding wars that we have no business being involved in. I know my lettuce arrives. I know buildings get built. I know my theaters continued to be cleaned when I was the manager and I tried to talk to the janitors in English and Spanish but they seemed very insular (as well they might be if they were afraid of being deported every second). I once taught immigrant children to read as part of a mission trip and found the children to be... well, children. Children are children. Adults are adults. And we're all on this crazy merry go round called life. If I have any opinion on immigration, I think it would be that its terrible that people feel they have to come all this way just to provide food and clothes for their families, cause I know damn well I wouldn't want to do the kinds of jobs they're doing in order to get that food and those clothes.
So, to summarize, I have no opinion and I really don't think about immigration at all.
On Friday, then, I plopped in a DVD of Children of Men - a dystopian Sci-Fi thriller about a man who has to smuggle a pregnant woman out of England. In this dystopian future, however, aside from the lack of children, the biggest issue of the day seems to be immigration, or more pointedly, immigrants. As in, England doesn't want any. They round up any immigrants and ship them out of England (or force them into refugee camps). Suddenly, immigration appears on my radar. But in a mass entertainment format, I generally ignore it.
Still...
On Saturday, I am reading Leviticus and I come across a biblical passage, Leviticus 19:34... "34 The alien living with you must be treated as one of your native-born. Love him as yourself, for you were aliens in Egypt. I am the LORD your God." Now, at this point, I'm not making any connections. I'm just thinking to myself, yet another thing the Republicans seem to be forgetting. Here it is in black and white. Treat the aliens as native borns. I wonder how come I don't remember this passage.
On Sunday, my pastor is delivering his sermon on MLK and on the struggles of our denomination vis a vis Gay Rights. Last week, the San Francisco Presbytery narrowly agreed to move forward with the process of ordaining an openly lesbian pastor. This does not guarantee ordination, it simply guarantees that the process will continue (ultimately the decision will be reviewed by the national church). Within hours of the decision, however, our former pastor called to let us know that two churches in his presbytery were already resigning from the national church. All this is preamble to say that, suddenly, the sermon turned away from the issue of civil rights and church politics.
It seems that the Presbyterian Church's highest elected leader didn't seem phazed at all about the issue of lesbian pastors in her church. What she shared with our presbytery was a concern that in 40 years, the one issue people will look back on to see where we stood in our leadership was on the issue of immigration. She pointed out the irony that this nation fought a bloody civil war to keep a foreign population as a permanent work force, and now, more than a 100 years later, we're equally adamnant that we keep a foreign population from ever becoming a permanent work force. The sermon went on to remind us of what Leviticus says about the aliens living with you.
Okay, admittedly, I sat up and took notice. I'm kind of dense from time to time, but as a writer, I'm paid to take notice of things that continually get repeated - seemingly out of context of the rest of the story. Immigration means little or nothing to me, yet here, out of the clear blue, its mentioned to me three different times in one weekend. Clearly God has something He'd like for me to notice or think or feel, or something. The problem is, I'm just not getting it. I'm just too dense to figure it out. As Albert Brooks might say, "I'm just a little brain."
So, I'm not writing this to elicit responses on either side of the immigration issue, though I know some of you have strong opinions which you are free to repeat here, but merely because God has this tendency to tell us things that we aren't always ready to hear. I just wanted to say that I heard them, but I have no idea what they mean. I'm hoping that some sort of clarity of coincidences becomese evident in the near future.
So, to summarize, I have no opinion and I really don't think about immigration at all.
On Friday, then, I plopped in a DVD of Children of Men - a dystopian Sci-Fi thriller about a man who has to smuggle a pregnant woman out of England. In this dystopian future, however, aside from the lack of children, the biggest issue of the day seems to be immigration, or more pointedly, immigrants. As in, England doesn't want any. They round up any immigrants and ship them out of England (or force them into refugee camps). Suddenly, immigration appears on my radar. But in a mass entertainment format, I generally ignore it.
Still...
On Saturday, I am reading Leviticus and I come across a biblical passage, Leviticus 19:34... "34 The alien living with you must be treated as one of your native-born. Love him as yourself, for you were aliens in Egypt. I am the LORD your God." Now, at this point, I'm not making any connections. I'm just thinking to myself, yet another thing the Republicans seem to be forgetting. Here it is in black and white. Treat the aliens as native borns. I wonder how come I don't remember this passage.
On Sunday, my pastor is delivering his sermon on MLK and on the struggles of our denomination vis a vis Gay Rights. Last week, the San Francisco Presbytery narrowly agreed to move forward with the process of ordaining an openly lesbian pastor. This does not guarantee ordination, it simply guarantees that the process will continue (ultimately the decision will be reviewed by the national church). Within hours of the decision, however, our former pastor called to let us know that two churches in his presbytery were already resigning from the national church. All this is preamble to say that, suddenly, the sermon turned away from the issue of civil rights and church politics.
It seems that the Presbyterian Church's highest elected leader didn't seem phazed at all about the issue of lesbian pastors in her church. What she shared with our presbytery was a concern that in 40 years, the one issue people will look back on to see where we stood in our leadership was on the issue of immigration. She pointed out the irony that this nation fought a bloody civil war to keep a foreign population as a permanent work force, and now, more than a 100 years later, we're equally adamnant that we keep a foreign population from ever becoming a permanent work force. The sermon went on to remind us of what Leviticus says about the aliens living with you.
Okay, admittedly, I sat up and took notice. I'm kind of dense from time to time, but as a writer, I'm paid to take notice of things that continually get repeated - seemingly out of context of the rest of the story. Immigration means little or nothing to me, yet here, out of the clear blue, its mentioned to me three different times in one weekend. Clearly God has something He'd like for me to notice or think or feel, or something. The problem is, I'm just not getting it. I'm just too dense to figure it out. As Albert Brooks might say, "I'm just a little brain."
So, I'm not writing this to elicit responses on either side of the immigration issue, though I know some of you have strong opinions which you are free to repeat here, but merely because God has this tendency to tell us things that we aren't always ready to hear. I just wanted to say that I heard them, but I have no idea what they mean. I'm hoping that some sort of clarity of coincidences becomese evident in the near future.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
A Not So Ringing Endorsement
This morning I informed my Dad that I was planning to change one scene at the end of my book. I was about to explain why I was changing the scene and that the main reason had something to do with some changes I was making in the second book, when my Dad gave me that look of confusion and said, "Are we talking about the same book?"
"What?"
"I don't remember that scene."
"It was at the end of the book. You know... the climax?"
"Are you sure it was in there?"
I went and looked at my copy of the book, and it was there. Then I went and looked at his copy of the book, and it was there as well.
He looked at the pages and said, "Oh yes, now I remember. I thought the ending was appropriate."
Okay, on one hand I'm inclined to write off the entire review of my ending as something pre-Alzheimeresque. On the other hand, perhaps my ending is so bad that its quickly forgotten. Can you see what being a writer does to you? Its not that I've become paranoid, its that I've become prone to paranoia. I can't simply take the approach that one person didn't remember the ending, but that it's probably the person's fault. I have to take the approach that someone didn't remember the ending, therefore my book is a complete and utter failure and I have to rethink this entire writing thing (or fix the book, yet again).
Is it any wonder that so many writers end up in mental institutions? I swear I'm going to quote Billy Joel on the inside cover of my book whenever its published.
"Son, I believe this is killing me."
Piano Man
Billy Joel
"What?"
"I don't remember that scene."
"It was at the end of the book. You know... the climax?"
"Are you sure it was in there?"
I went and looked at my copy of the book, and it was there. Then I went and looked at his copy of the book, and it was there as well.
He looked at the pages and said, "Oh yes, now I remember. I thought the ending was appropriate."
Okay, on one hand I'm inclined to write off the entire review of my ending as something pre-Alzheimeresque. On the other hand, perhaps my ending is so bad that its quickly forgotten. Can you see what being a writer does to you? Its not that I've become paranoid, its that I've become prone to paranoia. I can't simply take the approach that one person didn't remember the ending, but that it's probably the person's fault. I have to take the approach that someone didn't remember the ending, therefore my book is a complete and utter failure and I have to rethink this entire writing thing (or fix the book, yet again).
Is it any wonder that so many writers end up in mental institutions? I swear I'm going to quote Billy Joel on the inside cover of my book whenever its published.
"Son, I believe this is killing me."
Piano Man
Billy Joel
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
1983 - The Last Part
I was reminiscing the last couple of days about the Youth Work Camp to Alamosa in 1983 because I've known for a few months now that God was leading me into new pastures (so to speak). I decided at the start of this Youth year that it was going to be my last as a Youth Leader. I think there is an inherent risk of burnout in this type of work and I wanted to go out on my own terms before I resented the kids and the church and while I could still look everyone in the eye as a friend and fellow Christian. But over the last couple of weeks, one thing has been nagging me - one last bit of unfinished business. I realized that there was one thing that could make me stay on as a youth leader for one more year - a youth work camp. And as I realized that, I also realized that this was something God wanted me to do. So, when I see the youth next (they're on a ski trip this weekend), I am going to propose the project to them with a time frame at least a year out (Next spring or summer) so that they have time to raise the necessary funds for such a trip. One way or the other, I'm still going to find new pastures, but I might be leaving on God's time and not my own.
The reason I'm thinking I need this much time is that I want to raise the funds the same way we did back in 1983 when, ironically, we had a much richer church. There are plenty of individuals who could donate the money for us to make the trip (and indeed we already have quite a coffer of funds for a mission trip dating back since before I arrived) but part of the experience of 1983 that sticks out in my mind was the fact that we earned the trip and that in the earning of the trip, we bonded as a group.
There were many fund raisers over the year from September until July when we left. Out biggest fund raisers were the Ice Cream Social (the first time we'd had one - it is still going strong) and the sale of Trip Stock. These stock certificates were the equivalent of one mile of the journey, and we sold hundreds and hundreds of shares to our congregation. But ice cream and stock aside, for the most part, we raised the funds with the sweat of our brow and the muscles in our backs.
We did lawn maintenance (mowing lawns, watering gardens, and weeding). We built a new retaining wall in a backyard (digging a ditch first and then hammering in a frame and pouring cement). We completely leveled an overgrown jungle (yard) and hauled tons of trees, plants, weeds, and other assorted garden garbage out to a giant dumpster. We tore down a garden shed/garage (now, that was FUN!) and hauled the remains to the trash. We did so many different fund raisers that by the time we arrived in Alamosa, we were an experienced work crew. If anything, the work we did in Alamosa was almost anti-climactic (though we did get to do roofing, which was cool when you're a teen).
To be honest, we never worked that hard again on any of the subsequent fund-raising efforts for any of the work camps. But that one year had a great impact on us, on our youth group, and on our church. To this day, I still hear from adults at the church asking me if we're going to be doing any "fund-raising" anytime soon because they have a yard that needs cleaning. They remember it as a good investment, but also as a community event that brought the whole church a little bit closer.
And that's what I want to bring to Lakeside once again before I "retire" and move on to whatever God has in store for me next. Of course, ultimately, its up to the youth. I'm not about to clear a yard myself. But I have a sneaky suspicion that He will have some input into their decision. We shall soon know.
The reason I'm thinking I need this much time is that I want to raise the funds the same way we did back in 1983 when, ironically, we had a much richer church. There are plenty of individuals who could donate the money for us to make the trip (and indeed we already have quite a coffer of funds for a mission trip dating back since before I arrived) but part of the experience of 1983 that sticks out in my mind was the fact that we earned the trip and that in the earning of the trip, we bonded as a group.
There were many fund raisers over the year from September until July when we left. Out biggest fund raisers were the Ice Cream Social (the first time we'd had one - it is still going strong) and the sale of Trip Stock. These stock certificates were the equivalent of one mile of the journey, and we sold hundreds and hundreds of shares to our congregation. But ice cream and stock aside, for the most part, we raised the funds with the sweat of our brow and the muscles in our backs.
We did lawn maintenance (mowing lawns, watering gardens, and weeding). We built a new retaining wall in a backyard (digging a ditch first and then hammering in a frame and pouring cement). We completely leveled an overgrown jungle (yard) and hauled tons of trees, plants, weeds, and other assorted garden garbage out to a giant dumpster. We tore down a garden shed/garage (now, that was FUN!) and hauled the remains to the trash. We did so many different fund raisers that by the time we arrived in Alamosa, we were an experienced work crew. If anything, the work we did in Alamosa was almost anti-climactic (though we did get to do roofing, which was cool when you're a teen).
To be honest, we never worked that hard again on any of the subsequent fund-raising efforts for any of the work camps. But that one year had a great impact on us, on our youth group, and on our church. To this day, I still hear from adults at the church asking me if we're going to be doing any "fund-raising" anytime soon because they have a yard that needs cleaning. They remember it as a good investment, but also as a community event that brought the whole church a little bit closer.
And that's what I want to bring to Lakeside once again before I "retire" and move on to whatever God has in store for me next. Of course, ultimately, its up to the youth. I'm not about to clear a yard myself. But I have a sneaky suspicion that He will have some input into their decision. We shall soon know.
Monday, January 14, 2008
1983 - Part One
It was actually the fall of 1982. We'd succesfully held a fund raiser for an African missionary by renting out a roller skating rink and collecting normal admission funds (selling hot dogs and drinks, etc...). As a youth group, we were excited by the prospect of the roller skating. The fund raising part of it was of some mild interest. We weren't very politically active at the time.
As I recall, the first I heard of the idea, was the following week. School had just started back into session and we were just getting our first youth group meetings underway. The money from the fund raiser was being counted and tallied in the upstairs kitchen of our church. Pastor Dave and Mark were there and Pastor Dave mentioned that he was thinking of taking us all on a work camp the following summer. At the time, I think the term work camp was in vogue as opposed to the term Mission Trip which I hear today. Mark looked up at Pastor Dave and said, "What's a work camp?" and Pastor Dave described it in very general terms. Mark was transfixed. "And we could go anywhere?" "Well, we'd have to raise the money." "But we could go anywhere?" "Well, they only have work camps in certain places. Did you want to see the catalog?"
Pastor Dave brought out the catalog. A flimsy paper thing that looked kind of like one of those local Used Car Trader things, only with pictures of local communities nationwide that needed God sent cheap labor. We thumbed through the catalog and immediately started naming off exotic sounding locations, Leadville, Indian Springs, Alamosa... and like that, we were hooked.
For the short term, after that, it was all we could talk about. The teens were just hooked on the idea of raising all this money and going some place, and working, and coming back. We didn't really care what we did when we got there, we just wanted to go. The romantic notion of the work camp was just too much for our imagination.
After about a month, we had narrowed the list to three locations - one about three hours from San Francisco, one in Nevada, and one all the way out in Colorado - Alamosa. From the moment the list was set, the youth decided to go to Colorado. Cost projections were steep. The amount of time it would take to get there and back was huge. But the glory of the adventure was what spurred us onward.
We had a big meeting with our parents and other concerned church members. During the meeting, the idea was presented. The locations were each explained. The costs involved were noted. And the concerns were each addressed. As I recall, everytime some adult tried to suggest something like, "Well, if they went to the one in California, what would be the time to travel?" Mark would sort of politely bat them down by reminding everyone that we were going to Alamosa. When finally the adults became exasperated and pointed out how much money it would cost and how many fund raisers the kids were going to have to do in order to achieve such a lofty goal, Mark said, "Don't worry. We're going to raise the money, no matter what it takes."
Though the other two possibilities remained on the board for another couple of months, from the moment the list was set, there was no doubt in our mind that this was the Alamosa Work Camp.
To be continued...
And now a few potshots at (or additions to) my faulty memory...
As I recall, the first I heard of the idea, was the following week. School had just started back into session and we were just getting our first youth group meetings underway. The money from the fund raiser was being counted and tallied in the upstairs kitchen of our church. Pastor Dave and Mark were there and Pastor Dave mentioned that he was thinking of taking us all on a work camp the following summer. At the time, I think the term work camp was in vogue as opposed to the term Mission Trip which I hear today. Mark looked up at Pastor Dave and said, "What's a work camp?" and Pastor Dave described it in very general terms. Mark was transfixed. "And we could go anywhere?" "Well, we'd have to raise the money." "But we could go anywhere?" "Well, they only have work camps in certain places. Did you want to see the catalog?"
Pastor Dave brought out the catalog. A flimsy paper thing that looked kind of like one of those local Used Car Trader things, only with pictures of local communities nationwide that needed God sent cheap labor. We thumbed through the catalog and immediately started naming off exotic sounding locations, Leadville, Indian Springs, Alamosa... and like that, we were hooked.
For the short term, after that, it was all we could talk about. The teens were just hooked on the idea of raising all this money and going some place, and working, and coming back. We didn't really care what we did when we got there, we just wanted to go. The romantic notion of the work camp was just too much for our imagination.
After about a month, we had narrowed the list to three locations - one about three hours from San Francisco, one in Nevada, and one all the way out in Colorado - Alamosa. From the moment the list was set, the youth decided to go to Colorado. Cost projections were steep. The amount of time it would take to get there and back was huge. But the glory of the adventure was what spurred us onward.
We had a big meeting with our parents and other concerned church members. During the meeting, the idea was presented. The locations were each explained. The costs involved were noted. And the concerns were each addressed. As I recall, everytime some adult tried to suggest something like, "Well, if they went to the one in California, what would be the time to travel?" Mark would sort of politely bat them down by reminding everyone that we were going to Alamosa. When finally the adults became exasperated and pointed out how much money it would cost and how many fund raisers the kids were going to have to do in order to achieve such a lofty goal, Mark said, "Don't worry. We're going to raise the money, no matter what it takes."
Though the other two possibilities remained on the board for another couple of months, from the moment the list was set, there was no doubt in our mind that this was the Alamosa Work Camp.
To be continued...
And now a few potshots at (or additions to) my faulty memory...
Friday, January 11, 2008
Optimistically Half Empty!
I can't remember how to spell optimistic (or is it optomistic, or optamistic?) Spelling rules, like grammar, might be some of the first things to be jettisoned somehow I feel this sentence needs to end with a run-on.
It occurred, which is another word I can never remember, to me to the other day that the first thing God seems to be doing to me in preparation for whatever might be next in my journies fantasticue is to empty me of all the accumulated stuff that I've built up inside me like barnacles on the bottom of an ocean going tug. Stupid things like spelling and worrying about other drivers and politics and tons and tons of things that weigh down on my face and drag my smile upside down are clogging my channels of well-being like that 200lb per square inch butter filled pastry that the french pastry chefs tried to use to kill Homer Simpson when he was a food critic. When I listen to my C.S. Lewis CD's and the professor talks about finding joy, I wonder what this joy thing might be, and whether I might have once glimpsed it at the end of a long dark tunnel.
So, I've been fighting the temptation to fill myself up on things that do not nourish. I've been looking for a water so pure that it doesn't just quench my thirst, but keeps me from ever being thirsty again. In the meantime, I have been emptying myself. Thus far, God has made it pretty easy.
First, He threw a nasty cold at me. Colds always have the same effect on me - they take away my appetite. I've actually come to find them as blessings in disguise in the last couple of years. So, I've been scraping by with next to nothing for the first week of 2008 so far.
Then, He took away all of my money. Well, more accurately, the Christmas chickens came home to roost in my pocketbook. My budget for January shrank to a decidedly scary $5.08. With no relief in sight, I've decided to stop spending money on frivilous things like food. Ironically, the last money I spent was on Atonement. Hmmm... After Atonement, I'm ready to begin sacrificing.
Okay, I've been too long in Leviticus.
Anyway, so far in 2008 I've been very good at emptying myself. Next, I think I'll empty my closets of useless clothes. The mothballs are overworked and there are actual people out there that might find my used clothing more useful than my hangers find them.
So, food, money, clothes, spelling... I'm pretty sure that's it for now. But then, I am only half empty. I plan to be 100% empty before too long and then look out!
P.S. One of the strange things about emptying oneself is that there is a constant pity party going on in my head (its one of the first things I've been trying to extract, but this party has claws!) It is utterly ridiculous considering the accomplishments I've just finished in the last month or so, but the party is blaring in the background nonetheless. I'm trying to ignore it, but at times, the disco ball spinning and the beat of the techno music is tempting and I find myself on the edge of the pity party, looking in, and wondering what it might be like to join. Its been a long time since I let out a good rousing, Woe is me! Either that, or I'm going to call the cops and tell them that this party has been going on too long and they need to come break it up. But I hate to be a party pooper.
It occurred, which is another word I can never remember, to me to the other day that the first thing God seems to be doing to me in preparation for whatever might be next in my journies fantasticue is to empty me of all the accumulated stuff that I've built up inside me like barnacles on the bottom of an ocean going tug. Stupid things like spelling and worrying about other drivers and politics and tons and tons of things that weigh down on my face and drag my smile upside down are clogging my channels of well-being like that 200lb per square inch butter filled pastry that the french pastry chefs tried to use to kill Homer Simpson when he was a food critic. When I listen to my C.S. Lewis CD's and the professor talks about finding joy, I wonder what this joy thing might be, and whether I might have once glimpsed it at the end of a long dark tunnel.
So, I've been fighting the temptation to fill myself up on things that do not nourish. I've been looking for a water so pure that it doesn't just quench my thirst, but keeps me from ever being thirsty again. In the meantime, I have been emptying myself. Thus far, God has made it pretty easy.
First, He threw a nasty cold at me. Colds always have the same effect on me - they take away my appetite. I've actually come to find them as blessings in disguise in the last couple of years. So, I've been scraping by with next to nothing for the first week of 2008 so far.
Then, He took away all of my money. Well, more accurately, the Christmas chickens came home to roost in my pocketbook. My budget for January shrank to a decidedly scary $5.08. With no relief in sight, I've decided to stop spending money on frivilous things like food. Ironically, the last money I spent was on Atonement. Hmmm... After Atonement, I'm ready to begin sacrificing.
Okay, I've been too long in Leviticus.
Anyway, so far in 2008 I've been very good at emptying myself. Next, I think I'll empty my closets of useless clothes. The mothballs are overworked and there are actual people out there that might find my used clothing more useful than my hangers find them.
So, food, money, clothes, spelling... I'm pretty sure that's it for now. But then, I am only half empty. I plan to be 100% empty before too long and then look out!
P.S. One of the strange things about emptying oneself is that there is a constant pity party going on in my head (its one of the first things I've been trying to extract, but this party has claws!) It is utterly ridiculous considering the accomplishments I've just finished in the last month or so, but the party is blaring in the background nonetheless. I'm trying to ignore it, but at times, the disco ball spinning and the beat of the techno music is tempting and I find myself on the edge of the pity party, looking in, and wondering what it might be like to join. Its been a long time since I let out a good rousing, Woe is me! Either that, or I'm going to call the cops and tell them that this party has been going on too long and they need to come break it up. But I hate to be a party pooper.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
ATONEMENT - Movie Review
If you get everything else right, but the story, does it make a good movie? That's the question I was left with after watching sure to be nominated Oscar contender Atonement last night.
The film's plot is basically a British melodrama, most of which you can easily gather from the film's movie trailer. Young Robbie, the gardener, is in love with Cecelia, the lovely young daughter of an aristocratic British family. Cecelia's sister, Briony, is a precocious wanna be writer, who also has a crush on Robbie. One day Briony sees something in the garden between Robbie and her sister that she misinterprets. A series of further misinterpretations follows leading to Briony accusing Robbie of a heinous crime. Robbie is sent to prison, but given an opportunity to clear his name by joining the Army and fighting in France (prior to Dunkirk). He and Cecelia spend the rest of the movie pining for one another while Briony grows up and comes to understand the mistake that she's made. I imagine the book is quite good and I wouldn't mind reading it someday, even knowing what happens.
The film is beautifully made which is both its blessing and its curse. There is some of the most exquisite cinematography in this film that I've seen in a long time, almost David Leanesque (Laurence of Arabia, Bridge on The River Kwai). One shot in particular should earn the film a Best Picture nomination - a nearly fourteen minute long single shot showing three soldiers walking along the beachfront in Dunkirk, filmed with a steadicam. Its a marvel of artistry and direction. Of course, this incredible scene left me thinking one deadly thing about the film, "That was nice, but it really didn't need to be there." The movie is a beautiful thing, but it is also incredibly narcissistic. It knows its beautiful and it can't help admiring itself whenever it gets a chance. Still, for pure artistry, I have not seen a better movie this year.
The biggest problem with the film, however, is probably its script adaption. There are scenes in this film and characters that seem to come out of nowhere, that make no sense whatsoever, and that are not well executed as a result. I'm certain that these scenes are probably in the book and were deemed necessary to the movie without also deeming the material that explained them necessary. For instance, there is a French character that appears about 2/3rds of the way into the film that seems to know Briony and her family, but then gets confused - leaving us wondering who this character is and what the heck he has to do with anything. He is never explained. He serves his "purpose" admirably, but he would have done that just as well had he been a complete stranger. And so we are left with nothing but confusion after this scene. This is simply a case where the script adaption of the book could have been much tighter.
So, the artistry could have been tighter and the narrative could have been tighter and that leaves one person to blame - the Director. I'm sorry. I don't normally heap abuse on Directors (and this is mild abuse at worst) but both of these are areas under the Director's control and responsibility.
Which brings me back to my initial question, can you make a good movie with story problems? I think in this case, yes. Despite its flaws, I found so much to marvel at during the watching that I found myself liking it. The sound design was incredible. The costumes were outstanding. The movie was beautiful to watch. And I did not see the ending coming, which to me is like the cherry on top of a sundae. But I will say that it was close... another half hour and the movie could have been a sequel to The English Patient, or, as I call it, Endless Patience. Overall, I definitely say, check this movie out.
The film's plot is basically a British melodrama, most of which you can easily gather from the film's movie trailer. Young Robbie, the gardener, is in love with Cecelia, the lovely young daughter of an aristocratic British family. Cecelia's sister, Briony, is a precocious wanna be writer, who also has a crush on Robbie. One day Briony sees something in the garden between Robbie and her sister that she misinterprets. A series of further misinterpretations follows leading to Briony accusing Robbie of a heinous crime. Robbie is sent to prison, but given an opportunity to clear his name by joining the Army and fighting in France (prior to Dunkirk). He and Cecelia spend the rest of the movie pining for one another while Briony grows up and comes to understand the mistake that she's made. I imagine the book is quite good and I wouldn't mind reading it someday, even knowing what happens.
The film is beautifully made which is both its blessing and its curse. There is some of the most exquisite cinematography in this film that I've seen in a long time, almost David Leanesque (Laurence of Arabia, Bridge on The River Kwai). One shot in particular should earn the film a Best Picture nomination - a nearly fourteen minute long single shot showing three soldiers walking along the beachfront in Dunkirk, filmed with a steadicam. Its a marvel of artistry and direction. Of course, this incredible scene left me thinking one deadly thing about the film, "That was nice, but it really didn't need to be there." The movie is a beautiful thing, but it is also incredibly narcissistic. It knows its beautiful and it can't help admiring itself whenever it gets a chance. Still, for pure artistry, I have not seen a better movie this year.
The biggest problem with the film, however, is probably its script adaption. There are scenes in this film and characters that seem to come out of nowhere, that make no sense whatsoever, and that are not well executed as a result. I'm certain that these scenes are probably in the book and were deemed necessary to the movie without also deeming the material that explained them necessary. For instance, there is a French character that appears about 2/3rds of the way into the film that seems to know Briony and her family, but then gets confused - leaving us wondering who this character is and what the heck he has to do with anything. He is never explained. He serves his "purpose" admirably, but he would have done that just as well had he been a complete stranger. And so we are left with nothing but confusion after this scene. This is simply a case where the script adaption of the book could have been much tighter.
So, the artistry could have been tighter and the narrative could have been tighter and that leaves one person to blame - the Director. I'm sorry. I don't normally heap abuse on Directors (and this is mild abuse at worst) but both of these are areas under the Director's control and responsibility.
Which brings me back to my initial question, can you make a good movie with story problems? I think in this case, yes. Despite its flaws, I found so much to marvel at during the watching that I found myself liking it. The sound design was incredible. The costumes were outstanding. The movie was beautiful to watch. And I did not see the ending coming, which to me is like the cherry on top of a sundae. But I will say that it was close... another half hour and the movie could have been a sequel to The English Patient, or, as I call it, Endless Patience. Overall, I definitely say, check this movie out.
Monday, January 07, 2008
A Leap Too Far
I'm expecting a response from Ariel, but the rest of you please chime in as well (especially Randal with his lawyer's logic). The reason, of course, that I want responses is that I want you all to point out the error in my thinking. Since the subject is C.S. Lewis - a man I admire and a Christian I trust - I am thinking that I must be wrong somewhere, but I'm not finding it.
To be fair to Lewis, I'm basing my blog post on a 12 part CD course on C.S. Lewis and his writings. To say that this course just scratches the surface is to say that someone telling you that 1 + 1 = 2 just scratches the surface of mathematics. So far, at least, the course has been mostly a review of his books and his apologetics.
That being said, here is my problem...
1) Lewis believes that our pursuit of joy and our knowledge of good presuppose that there is something more joyful that we can't grasp and more Good that we can't see (i.e. God) but that we still somehow know. I have no problem with this and the logic he uses to prove this seems compelling.
2) He then explains that Jesus must be who He says He is because otherwise He would be a liar or a lunatic. Again, I followed all of that, and I can't argue this point.
But here is where I find the problem - the leap from the first statement to the second.
Let me put it this way, the first statement relies on our own internal logic. We can grasp the fact that joy is something that we can never hold on to. We can understand the idea that our knowledge of Good must come from some place outside of the world because we know what right and wrong are and many of us have never ever read the Bible. Etc... So our own knowledge informs us about the idea of God. The second statement, however, relies on the words of Jesus Christ as written in the Bible. Without getting into the whole idea of the Bible and how it was written, we are still being asked to accept that the Bible is a definitive truth and that Jesus Christ is a definitive truth. If there was no Bible, wouldn't that negate Jesus Christ? You see, the first statement is something I can feel. The second statement relies on me knowing something of Jesus Christ. I can see mathematics at work because if you give me one apple and then hand me another one, I have two apples. Its something I intuitively grasp even if I don't know what it means (like the language we speak). Jesus isn't necessarily intuitive.
So, did Lewis make a Leap in Logic? Or did I miss something in his writings that points to the intuitiveness of Jesus Christ?
Now, that having been said and asked, and posited for ridicule, I am, of course, concerned with the whole reason my brain refuses to simply accept Lewis's argument. I know, intuitively, that I will never find "proof" of God, and yet I also know intuitively that God exists. Therefore, I sometimes wonder if logic and intelligence are the logs in my eye preventing me from seeing that which is clearly obvious if I were to just remove these darn things from my iris (which itches, by the way). Is intelligence a curse or a boon to human beings? I wonder what Lewis would say?
To be fair to Lewis, I'm basing my blog post on a 12 part CD course on C.S. Lewis and his writings. To say that this course just scratches the surface is to say that someone telling you that 1 + 1 = 2 just scratches the surface of mathematics. So far, at least, the course has been mostly a review of his books and his apologetics.
That being said, here is my problem...
1) Lewis believes that our pursuit of joy and our knowledge of good presuppose that there is something more joyful that we can't grasp and more Good that we can't see (i.e. God) but that we still somehow know. I have no problem with this and the logic he uses to prove this seems compelling.
2) He then explains that Jesus must be who He says He is because otherwise He would be a liar or a lunatic. Again, I followed all of that, and I can't argue this point.
But here is where I find the problem - the leap from the first statement to the second.
Let me put it this way, the first statement relies on our own internal logic. We can grasp the fact that joy is something that we can never hold on to. We can understand the idea that our knowledge of Good must come from some place outside of the world because we know what right and wrong are and many of us have never ever read the Bible. Etc... So our own knowledge informs us about the idea of God. The second statement, however, relies on the words of Jesus Christ as written in the Bible. Without getting into the whole idea of the Bible and how it was written, we are still being asked to accept that the Bible is a definitive truth and that Jesus Christ is a definitive truth. If there was no Bible, wouldn't that negate Jesus Christ? You see, the first statement is something I can feel. The second statement relies on me knowing something of Jesus Christ. I can see mathematics at work because if you give me one apple and then hand me another one, I have two apples. Its something I intuitively grasp even if I don't know what it means (like the language we speak). Jesus isn't necessarily intuitive.
So, did Lewis make a Leap in Logic? Or did I miss something in his writings that points to the intuitiveness of Jesus Christ?
Now, that having been said and asked, and posited for ridicule, I am, of course, concerned with the whole reason my brain refuses to simply accept Lewis's argument. I know, intuitively, that I will never find "proof" of God, and yet I also know intuitively that God exists. Therefore, I sometimes wonder if logic and intelligence are the logs in my eye preventing me from seeing that which is clearly obvious if I were to just remove these darn things from my iris (which itches, by the way). Is intelligence a curse or a boon to human beings? I wonder what Lewis would say?
Friday, January 04, 2008
Shoeless, Lewis, and Moses, Oh My!
Three gifts from three different people with three different tastes and all bring me closer to God. Now how's that for a Christmas season?
Having finished the book and school and all my other responsibilities, I have suddenly found time to focus again on myself and my own spiritual journey. But when you've been off the path for a while, you can find yourself Frodo-like in the midst of a landscape that offers you no clear direction to your ultimate objective. Perhaps it was the exhaustion of the past couple of months, or perhaps the sheer weight of all that had transpired - I wasn't feeling particularly close to God. I found church to be boring. I found Youth Group, uninspiring. And I found my prayers lacking a certain conviction. I was looking around the landscape trying to figure out where the hell I was and I wasn't seeing any particular path out of those spiritual doldrums.
And then, on Tuesday, I opened up one of the DVD's my brother had gotten for me - Field of Dreams. We've all seen it. We all have it imprinted on our Man DNA. But, I admit, I hadn't seen it in a few years and while I hadn't forgotten the story or the characters or any of the lines of dialogue, I also hadn't felt its impact in a long time. I found myself weeping again at scenes like Costner and Moonlight Graham, and the kid stepping across the line to become a doctor. I found myself wondering along with Shoeless Joe whether this cornfield in Iowa wasn't some sort of Heaven. Baseball is God's sport, no doubt about it, and this movie always makes me long for a true Field of Dreams where we can all belong in a brotherhood and talk about things that truly matter (like OBP and RBI's ;) After watching this movie, I still didn't have any idea where I was, but I knew where I wanted to be. I had at least rediscovered my longing for God.
Then, on Wednesday, I opened up a set of 6 CD's my Dad had gotten for me - one of the World's Greatest Courses selections on The Life and Work of C.S. Lewis (Did you know he liked to be called Jack?) I listened intently to the first of 12 lectures, and then plunged right on in to the second lecture on his earliest works (Pilgrim's Regress, etc...) As the instructor explained the early life of C.S. Lewis and his understanding of Joy and how that lead to his becoming a Christian, I couldn't help but remember the Field of Dreams from the night before. Here was a longing so real that it could only point to something even more beautiful. I found myself wondering why I couldn't feel real joy over things in my own life.
And finally, last night, I opened up a book that Andy had given me - Walking The Bible - a story of one man's real life quest to walk in the footsteps of Moses and the early patriarchs of the Bible. I found the book fascinating and I couldn't put it down until I literally couldn't physically keep my eyes open any longer.
In the book, the author describes his approach to this quest - starting from a completely scientific and research oriented point of view. He admits that as he begins to do more and more research, he finds himself asking more and more questions of his own expectations and beliefs.
God doesn't give people quests to serve their own selfish needs. Ultimately, every personal quest becomes something more that we can all benefit from.
I don't know where I am, still, but I've got a feeling that the next few steps are going to take me in a direction I hadn't anticipated, and that somehow, it will all be for the benefit of God.
Having finished the book and school and all my other responsibilities, I have suddenly found time to focus again on myself and my own spiritual journey. But when you've been off the path for a while, you can find yourself Frodo-like in the midst of a landscape that offers you no clear direction to your ultimate objective. Perhaps it was the exhaustion of the past couple of months, or perhaps the sheer weight of all that had transpired - I wasn't feeling particularly close to God. I found church to be boring. I found Youth Group, uninspiring. And I found my prayers lacking a certain conviction. I was looking around the landscape trying to figure out where the hell I was and I wasn't seeing any particular path out of those spiritual doldrums.
And then, on Tuesday, I opened up one of the DVD's my brother had gotten for me - Field of Dreams. We've all seen it. We all have it imprinted on our Man DNA. But, I admit, I hadn't seen it in a few years and while I hadn't forgotten the story or the characters or any of the lines of dialogue, I also hadn't felt its impact in a long time. I found myself weeping again at scenes like Costner and Moonlight Graham, and the kid stepping across the line to become a doctor. I found myself wondering along with Shoeless Joe whether this cornfield in Iowa wasn't some sort of Heaven. Baseball is God's sport, no doubt about it, and this movie always makes me long for a true Field of Dreams where we can all belong in a brotherhood and talk about things that truly matter (like OBP and RBI's ;) After watching this movie, I still didn't have any idea where I was, but I knew where I wanted to be. I had at least rediscovered my longing for God.
Then, on Wednesday, I opened up a set of 6 CD's my Dad had gotten for me - one of the World's Greatest Courses selections on The Life and Work of C.S. Lewis (Did you know he liked to be called Jack?) I listened intently to the first of 12 lectures, and then plunged right on in to the second lecture on his earliest works (Pilgrim's Regress, etc...) As the instructor explained the early life of C.S. Lewis and his understanding of Joy and how that lead to his becoming a Christian, I couldn't help but remember the Field of Dreams from the night before. Here was a longing so real that it could only point to something even more beautiful. I found myself wondering why I couldn't feel real joy over things in my own life.
And finally, last night, I opened up a book that Andy had given me - Walking The Bible - a story of one man's real life quest to walk in the footsteps of Moses and the early patriarchs of the Bible. I found the book fascinating and I couldn't put it down until I literally couldn't physically keep my eyes open any longer.
In the book, the author describes his approach to this quest - starting from a completely scientific and research oriented point of view. He admits that as he begins to do more and more research, he finds himself asking more and more questions of his own expectations and beliefs.
God doesn't give people quests to serve their own selfish needs. Ultimately, every personal quest becomes something more that we can all benefit from.
I don't know where I am, still, but I've got a feeling that the next few steps are going to take me in a direction I hadn't anticipated, and that somehow, it will all be for the benefit of God.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
A sports blog about writing?
Every October, my cross country coach would load up his camper shell backed truck with us gangly cross country runners and drive the short distance downhill from our campus to Golden Gate Park. Though it was good to spend time with other friendly runners, we also knew that this trip would be spent in serious discussion. Because after arriving at the Polo Grounds, we would begin to go over the San Francisco high school cross country course, step by step, transition by transition, pace by pace.
It would begin in the actual Polo Grounds - a half mile circle that we would traverse while our coach explained to us about how he wanted us to begin the race (Go out at your own pace. Do not try to be first, but try to be near first by the time you exit the Polo Grounds, etc...) Then we would pass under the outside horsetrack and into the park proper where we would start running the first outside stretch, tracing the curve of the polo grounds as we headed towards the first meadow. This stretch was always a little more difficult because Golden Gate Park is at a definite tilt, and so far we've been running flat. And when it got wet, especially, this was usually our first taste of a weathered course (i.e. Mud). As we ran along, our coach started to point out benchmarks, passing points, etc... And then down the short hill into the first meadow and across it (be sure to bypass any mud holes, he would say - a suggestion I would happily ignore for four years). Up the other side to the opposite side of the Polo Grounds, then a left turn to take us up the Park and east. This was the long uphill climb of the race.
We would run up the 3/4ths of a mile uphill spine of the course and then drop down another narrow hill to the backstop of a baseball diamond, around the baseball diamond, and up the second meadow to the big tree. Once around the big tree, we knew it was basically all down hill from there, and about 1.25 miles to go. Our coach would tell us that we had to start picking up the pace here. Down the other side of the meadow (some took the bike path, others the grass - either way was acceptable) and then back up a steep hill and then around a serious switchback and down another steephill right back on to the meadow. There was one last short hill after that, and then down through the first meadow again and back up and across the entrance to the Polo Grounds - opposite where we'd left it. After that, it was about 400 yards to the finish line. As we came off the steep hill, our coach would say that we really had to be going our fastest at that point, and that we should then save our final burst of speed until the finish line was less than 100 yards away and then sprint to the finish line.
Every year we went over this course and we knew it like the back of our hands. Then we would run the course about eight times a season, as well as practice on it another dozen or so times. By the time I was a senior, I had run the course close to 100 times and knew every intricate detail and nuance of its undulating path. I knew where to get an extra burst of speed. I knew how to run through the mud puddles without losing my shoes (thus bypassing all those slower runners who went around it). I knew where I could pass other runners and thoroughly demoralize them in the process. I knew all that, tucked away in my brain.
And yet, every single time out, I'd reach a point where I forgot all the strategy, all the plans, every skill I had, and every single bit of running I had ever known. I would toss it all to the wind and just run - feel the wind across my face, hear the pounding of my heart, feel the sting of sweat in my eyes, and push my legs forward like the drive wheels of a steam locomotive. At that moment, I stopped running and became a runner. I stopped thinking about running and just ran.
I reached that point with the novel. After four years and countless months of writing, notes, journals, plans, discussions, dialog, research, plotting, editing - I just reached down deep inside myself and stopped writing, and became a writer. It was pure guts, pure instinct, pure stamina that carried me to the end, and I crossed the finish line with nothing left inside me, having left it all behind somewhere in one of the endless meadows.
I have a tendency to plan things to death. At some point, I need to learn to let go and just be. All the strategy in the world won't help, if you don't go out there and run the race.
It would begin in the actual Polo Grounds - a half mile circle that we would traverse while our coach explained to us about how he wanted us to begin the race (Go out at your own pace. Do not try to be first, but try to be near first by the time you exit the Polo Grounds, etc...) Then we would pass under the outside horsetrack and into the park proper where we would start running the first outside stretch, tracing the curve of the polo grounds as we headed towards the first meadow. This stretch was always a little more difficult because Golden Gate Park is at a definite tilt, and so far we've been running flat. And when it got wet, especially, this was usually our first taste of a weathered course (i.e. Mud). As we ran along, our coach started to point out benchmarks, passing points, etc... And then down the short hill into the first meadow and across it (be sure to bypass any mud holes, he would say - a suggestion I would happily ignore for four years). Up the other side to the opposite side of the Polo Grounds, then a left turn to take us up the Park and east. This was the long uphill climb of the race.
We would run up the 3/4ths of a mile uphill spine of the course and then drop down another narrow hill to the backstop of a baseball diamond, around the baseball diamond, and up the second meadow to the big tree. Once around the big tree, we knew it was basically all down hill from there, and about 1.25 miles to go. Our coach would tell us that we had to start picking up the pace here. Down the other side of the meadow (some took the bike path, others the grass - either way was acceptable) and then back up a steep hill and then around a serious switchback and down another steephill right back on to the meadow. There was one last short hill after that, and then down through the first meadow again and back up and across the entrance to the Polo Grounds - opposite where we'd left it. After that, it was about 400 yards to the finish line. As we came off the steep hill, our coach would say that we really had to be going our fastest at that point, and that we should then save our final burst of speed until the finish line was less than 100 yards away and then sprint to the finish line.
Every year we went over this course and we knew it like the back of our hands. Then we would run the course about eight times a season, as well as practice on it another dozen or so times. By the time I was a senior, I had run the course close to 100 times and knew every intricate detail and nuance of its undulating path. I knew where to get an extra burst of speed. I knew how to run through the mud puddles without losing my shoes (thus bypassing all those slower runners who went around it). I knew where I could pass other runners and thoroughly demoralize them in the process. I knew all that, tucked away in my brain.
And yet, every single time out, I'd reach a point where I forgot all the strategy, all the plans, every skill I had, and every single bit of running I had ever known. I would toss it all to the wind and just run - feel the wind across my face, hear the pounding of my heart, feel the sting of sweat in my eyes, and push my legs forward like the drive wheels of a steam locomotive. At that moment, I stopped running and became a runner. I stopped thinking about running and just ran.
I reached that point with the novel. After four years and countless months of writing, notes, journals, plans, discussions, dialog, research, plotting, editing - I just reached down deep inside myself and stopped writing, and became a writer. It was pure guts, pure instinct, pure stamina that carried me to the end, and I crossed the finish line with nothing left inside me, having left it all behind somewhere in one of the endless meadows.
I have a tendency to plan things to death. At some point, I need to learn to let go and just be. All the strategy in the world won't help, if you don't go out there and run the race.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Will Almighty
And lo, an Angel of the Lord appeared unto me, saying, "So, you think you're pretty hot stuff now that you've finished creating that book. How would you like a real challenge?"
"Bringeth iteth oneth," I replied.
"Stick to modern English before you hurt yourself," the Angel replied.
And thus I was transported into nothing - a big vast field of nothing.
"Where am I?" I asked.
"You are Before. God has suggested that you might want to try your hand at creating something a little more challenging - like the whole universe!"
"Hmm... Sure, why not? I'm in between gigs right now. I suppose I can take a week off."
And thus, following the great trend of Hollywood, Will Almighty set out to revamp the first couple of chapters of Genesis. And therefore it was that...
Genesis 1
1 - In the beginning, there was nada. 2 - And Will saw that he liked the nothing and began to plan what he would like to do with all that nothingness, that blank canvas (which is something not yet invented). 3 - The beginning and the end of the first day . 4 - On the second day, Will continued to contemplate all that nothingness and ate nachos (again with the not yet invented thing). 5 - The beginning and end of the second day. 6 - On the third day, Will decided that he needed to begin with a flourish and thus he created the heavens, the earth, the sun, the stars, the moon, and a giant space creature to destroy them all in a cataclysmic fireball, but after seeing his results, he scrapped the whole thing and went to bed early. 7 - The beginning and the end of the third day. 8 - On the fourth day, Will thought about going one better, and separated the lights from the darks, the colors from the socks, and did his laundry. Then he snapped his finger and the entire universe appeared as it had been before (minus plants, animals, and people) with the requisite 15% changes so that he could claim unique ownership. 9 - The beginning and the end of the fourth day. 10 - On the fifth day, Will decided to take a short break while he contemplated what to do next. 11 - The beginning and the end of the fifth day. 12 - On the 223rd day, Will thought about adding the color green. And he liked it. So it stayed. 13 - On the 435th day, Will created water and when it didn't kill him, he kept that too. 14 - On the 856th day, Will added birds, animals, and fishees. And they tasted good. So he kept them. But since he hadn't yet created insects (yuck) nor plant life (icky) they all died out. 15 - On the 857th day, Will begrudgingly created vegetables, but he countered this by also creating ice cream and chocolate syrup. 16 - On the 9,342nd day, Will made everything that was not a cheeseburger taste like chicken. 17 - On the 10,456th day, Will gave up.
And thus it was that Will's vast ego and his self important vision of himself as a master creater was completely destroyed with a single stunning sunset. Forever acknowledged as a failed creator, Will retired to a normal life of fiction wherein he could pretend to be a really, truly, awesome writer.
And as for the Angel, she eventually retired and started a detective agency in Los Angeles - but that's another story...
Amen
"Bringeth iteth oneth," I replied.
"Stick to modern English before you hurt yourself," the Angel replied.
And thus I was transported into nothing - a big vast field of nothing.
"Where am I?" I asked.
"You are Before. God has suggested that you might want to try your hand at creating something a little more challenging - like the whole universe!"
"Hmm... Sure, why not? I'm in between gigs right now. I suppose I can take a week off."
And thus, following the great trend of Hollywood, Will Almighty set out to revamp the first couple of chapters of Genesis. And therefore it was that...
Genesis 1
1 - In the beginning, there was nada. 2 - And Will saw that he liked the nothing and began to plan what he would like to do with all that nothingness, that blank canvas (which is something not yet invented). 3 - The beginning and the end of the first day . 4 - On the second day, Will continued to contemplate all that nothingness and ate nachos (again with the not yet invented thing). 5 - The beginning and end of the second day. 6 - On the third day, Will decided that he needed to begin with a flourish and thus he created the heavens, the earth, the sun, the stars, the moon, and a giant space creature to destroy them all in a cataclysmic fireball, but after seeing his results, he scrapped the whole thing and went to bed early. 7 - The beginning and the end of the third day. 8 - On the fourth day, Will thought about going one better, and separated the lights from the darks, the colors from the socks, and did his laundry. Then he snapped his finger and the entire universe appeared as it had been before (minus plants, animals, and people) with the requisite 15% changes so that he could claim unique ownership. 9 - The beginning and the end of the fourth day. 10 - On the fifth day, Will decided to take a short break while he contemplated what to do next. 11 - The beginning and the end of the fifth day. 12 - On the 223rd day, Will thought about adding the color green. And he liked it. So it stayed. 13 - On the 435th day, Will created water and when it didn't kill him, he kept that too. 14 - On the 856th day, Will added birds, animals, and fishees. And they tasted good. So he kept them. But since he hadn't yet created insects (yuck) nor plant life (icky) they all died out. 15 - On the 857th day, Will begrudgingly created vegetables, but he countered this by also creating ice cream and chocolate syrup. 16 - On the 9,342nd day, Will made everything that was not a cheeseburger taste like chicken. 17 - On the 10,456th day, Will gave up.
And thus it was that Will's vast ego and his self important vision of himself as a master creater was completely destroyed with a single stunning sunset. Forever acknowledged as a failed creator, Will retired to a normal life of fiction wherein he could pretend to be a really, truly, awesome writer.
And as for the Angel, she eventually retired and started a detective agency in Los Angeles - but that's another story...
Amen
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
It's not about me.
Every year for the past dozen years or so, we've had a sort of tradition in my family that you might as well call The Last Present tradition. It really started one year when my step mom got my dad a Learn to Paint kit complete with canvas and oil paint. The following Christmas as we just finished opening all of our presents, my dad said that he had one last present for my step mom to open. She opened the present and started to laugh. My dad had done his own interpretation of a beloved family icon - a paint by numbers Horse's Head that he'd painted as a kid in summer camp. The family joke had been going on for years that whenever my step mom took a painting down for cleaning or dusting or something, she would come back and find the space filled with this (hideous) paint by number's horse's head. Anyway, long story short, my dad had achieved the perfect mix of surprise and delight.
The following year he enlisted my aid in suprising her with a hand made doll house. The year after that it was my sister's turn to "surprise" everyone with the news of her engagement. And so on and so forth... Every year for years now, we've had that surprise moment at the end of Christmas.
This year I wanted to surprise everyone with the news that I had finally finished my novel. Not a great surprise, mind you, but a surprise nonetheless. I've been keeping the fact of my impending completion underwraps for months while I struggled through one of the most brutal scheduling periods of my life. I purposefully made it more difficult by adding the completion of the novel as a goal on top of everything else. My thought was to surprise everyone and feel their delight at the completion of this task. But as I approached the actual completion, I began to feel awkward about doing the surprise thing.
On the one hand, I knew it wasn't that big a deal. I've completed five different drafts of this thing - that it was the final one was noteworthy, but sort of like celebrating the completion of ROCKY after viewing Rocky VI. So I thought that making a big deal out of it would only serve to pump up my ego. Yes, it was a hard slog. Yes, I'm happy to be done with it (and good riddance ;) But I don't know that it was necessarily newsworthy, much less surprise worthy.
On the other hand, I had this notion in the back of my mind that Christmas shouldn't be about the biggest or the best gift. Its a notion that's been building in my mind for some time now. Christmas should be about Jesus and family and celebrating the idea that God cares for us. I actually began to look forward to a nice low key Christmas where I could put the enjoyment of others ahead of my own enjoyment.
The greatest gift I received this Christmas season was the completion of the book, not because of impending riches and untold wealth, but because I realized that there is a time to write about life and a time to absorb life. And for the first time in a long time, I am ready to absorb life. God has given me this wonderful gift and it has truly colored my new vision in ways that you can not imagine.
There's a line in the book that describes the main character as having a "psychic burr" that drives him to do the things that he does. I finally excersised my own psychic burr. And now I'm ready to simply enjoy the wonderful world that God gave me free of charge.
The following year he enlisted my aid in suprising her with a hand made doll house. The year after that it was my sister's turn to "surprise" everyone with the news of her engagement. And so on and so forth... Every year for years now, we've had that surprise moment at the end of Christmas.
This year I wanted to surprise everyone with the news that I had finally finished my novel. Not a great surprise, mind you, but a surprise nonetheless. I've been keeping the fact of my impending completion underwraps for months while I struggled through one of the most brutal scheduling periods of my life. I purposefully made it more difficult by adding the completion of the novel as a goal on top of everything else. My thought was to surprise everyone and feel their delight at the completion of this task. But as I approached the actual completion, I began to feel awkward about doing the surprise thing.
On the one hand, I knew it wasn't that big a deal. I've completed five different drafts of this thing - that it was the final one was noteworthy, but sort of like celebrating the completion of ROCKY after viewing Rocky VI. So I thought that making a big deal out of it would only serve to pump up my ego. Yes, it was a hard slog. Yes, I'm happy to be done with it (and good riddance ;) But I don't know that it was necessarily newsworthy, much less surprise worthy.
On the other hand, I had this notion in the back of my mind that Christmas shouldn't be about the biggest or the best gift. Its a notion that's been building in my mind for some time now. Christmas should be about Jesus and family and celebrating the idea that God cares for us. I actually began to look forward to a nice low key Christmas where I could put the enjoyment of others ahead of my own enjoyment.
The greatest gift I received this Christmas season was the completion of the book, not because of impending riches and untold wealth, but because I realized that there is a time to write about life and a time to absorb life. And for the first time in a long time, I am ready to absorb life. God has given me this wonderful gift and it has truly colored my new vision in ways that you can not imagine.
There's a line in the book that describes the main character as having a "psychic burr" that drives him to do the things that he does. I finally excersised my own psychic burr. And now I'm ready to simply enjoy the wonderful world that God gave me free of charge.
Friday, December 21, 2007
May your days be merry and bright...
And may all your Christmas's be white... okay, that's probably not the actual message I was going for here. Somehow that phrase, out of context, has some negative connotations. Er, um...
Anyway, Merry Christmas to you all and I hope to be back at this again in a few days with some post-holiday news.
Until then...
MERRY CHRISTMAS!
Anyway, Merry Christmas to you all and I hope to be back at this again in a few days with some post-holiday news.
Until then...
MERRY CHRISTMAS!
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Forget the Old and New, we need a Current Testament *
I think so many people fall into the trap of believing that Christianity ended in something like 132AD and that everything that has happened since has been man's inexhaustable attempts to screw it up. There have been no new additions to the Bible since about that time and therefore anything we add to Christian literature is bound to be considered human, not holy.
But, of course, we know that there have been some very profound things said about God and the nature of love and Christianity since then. You could have an entire section of a Current Testament devoted to the various sayings and prayers of St. Francis, and an entire gospel according to C.S. Lewis or Deitrich Bonhoffer. But even then, in writing, we might have a tendency to codify our religion (St. Francis said it, therefore it must be true) as opposed to living our religion.
If anything is true in our need for a Current Testament, its this - rather than writing it down, we perform it. The beginning may have been the Word, but currently its the Deed.
My thoughts have been traveling down these paths lately because I've been reading the Old Testament again and, at the same time, a current book of theology. Its put me into a kind of temporal flux where I'm seeing Christianity from its ancestry and its progeny at the same time - the ultimate before and after picture. As a result I've been struck by two competing, but harmonious thoughts.
My first thought came from the reading of Genesis about Abraham. In that story, Abraham has a son, Ishmael, that he basically discards into the wilderness. "Don't worry," God tells Abraham, "I will make him into a great nation as well." It struck me that the Islamic faith believe themselves descended from Ishmael and that the sons of Ishmael and the sons of Isaac still don't get along after all these years. And yet, God promised each of them essentially the same thing. What if God had some intention for these two peoples that are much greater than anything we can possibly imagine? What if God sent us Jesus and them Mohammed? And what if there is some great reconciliation out there? This isn't to suggest that I am for the idea of a pluralistic view of God or that I accept a univeralistic view of God's grace. But I'm wondering, ultimately, if we don't all serve His view of the story and not our own - that there isn't some current chapter of the story that we're living and not reading.
My second thought follows the first, in some respect, in that it seems that there are a great many books out there right now that suggest that we've all got it wrong somehow - that there is a better way to worship God and we're not following it. Think about the plethora of "self-help" books out there for churches, congregations, or Christian individuals that each might as well be called, "Ten Ways To A More Religious You!" I'm currently reading one of them and I find the book compelling and interesting and, at times, convicting, but I was suddenly struck with the notion that this guy had no more of a clue about how religion should be done correctly than C.S. Lewis did. Ultimately, all of these "self-help" books are futile in that each of us will play our role in human history the way God intended (even if it means that we're going to read one of these books and be inspired by it to do... whatever.) God is writing the story and we are merely the characters involved.
I can't help but reading the old testament and new testament and think of the people in these books as characters, not living, breathing people. But then I have the same problem reading history books, or newspapers for that matter. Sometimes it's just hard to get out of one's own head. But the "characters" in the Bible and in history and in newspapers are real people, who breath, eat, drink, exist. And each of them has played some part in the world that was not of their choosing. Just like me. Their view of reality was/is the same as mine. They can only see what has happened behind them and can only predict what will come next and try to react to it. They will only know what is in their immediate presence as being fact. And even though most of them are long since dead, their lives form the soil that I walk upon, just as my life will one day form the soil of others yet to come.
And so we're left with an ongoing story of God - not a story of God in the past or a promise of God in the future, but a current story of God right now - an interactive story, a choose-your-own-adventure story, a living breathing testament to the one true God. And whether we are main characters or background characters or just window dressing to the main story, each of us is a part of this continuing story. Each of us is a part of the current testament to God.
* As testament is actually another word for covenant and therefore the designation actually means "Old Covenant with God, New Covenant with God" we don't really need a "Current Covenant with God". The Christ led one will suffice for us all. Therefore I use the term here more as a designation of time (as in Old Testament Times vs. New Testament Times).
But, of course, we know that there have been some very profound things said about God and the nature of love and Christianity since then. You could have an entire section of a Current Testament devoted to the various sayings and prayers of St. Francis, and an entire gospel according to C.S. Lewis or Deitrich Bonhoffer. But even then, in writing, we might have a tendency to codify our religion (St. Francis said it, therefore it must be true) as opposed to living our religion.
If anything is true in our need for a Current Testament, its this - rather than writing it down, we perform it. The beginning may have been the Word, but currently its the Deed.
My thoughts have been traveling down these paths lately because I've been reading the Old Testament again and, at the same time, a current book of theology. Its put me into a kind of temporal flux where I'm seeing Christianity from its ancestry and its progeny at the same time - the ultimate before and after picture. As a result I've been struck by two competing, but harmonious thoughts.
My first thought came from the reading of Genesis about Abraham. In that story, Abraham has a son, Ishmael, that he basically discards into the wilderness. "Don't worry," God tells Abraham, "I will make him into a great nation as well." It struck me that the Islamic faith believe themselves descended from Ishmael and that the sons of Ishmael and the sons of Isaac still don't get along after all these years. And yet, God promised each of them essentially the same thing. What if God had some intention for these two peoples that are much greater than anything we can possibly imagine? What if God sent us Jesus and them Mohammed? And what if there is some great reconciliation out there? This isn't to suggest that I am for the idea of a pluralistic view of God or that I accept a univeralistic view of God's grace. But I'm wondering, ultimately, if we don't all serve His view of the story and not our own - that there isn't some current chapter of the story that we're living and not reading.
My second thought follows the first, in some respect, in that it seems that there are a great many books out there right now that suggest that we've all got it wrong somehow - that there is a better way to worship God and we're not following it. Think about the plethora of "self-help" books out there for churches, congregations, or Christian individuals that each might as well be called, "Ten Ways To A More Religious You!" I'm currently reading one of them and I find the book compelling and interesting and, at times, convicting, but I was suddenly struck with the notion that this guy had no more of a clue about how religion should be done correctly than C.S. Lewis did. Ultimately, all of these "self-help" books are futile in that each of us will play our role in human history the way God intended (even if it means that we're going to read one of these books and be inspired by it to do... whatever.) God is writing the story and we are merely the characters involved.
I can't help but reading the old testament and new testament and think of the people in these books as characters, not living, breathing people. But then I have the same problem reading history books, or newspapers for that matter. Sometimes it's just hard to get out of one's own head. But the "characters" in the Bible and in history and in newspapers are real people, who breath, eat, drink, exist. And each of them has played some part in the world that was not of their choosing. Just like me. Their view of reality was/is the same as mine. They can only see what has happened behind them and can only predict what will come next and try to react to it. They will only know what is in their immediate presence as being fact. And even though most of them are long since dead, their lives form the soil that I walk upon, just as my life will one day form the soil of others yet to come.
And so we're left with an ongoing story of God - not a story of God in the past or a promise of God in the future, but a current story of God right now - an interactive story, a choose-your-own-adventure story, a living breathing testament to the one true God. And whether we are main characters or background characters or just window dressing to the main story, each of us is a part of this continuing story. Each of us is a part of the current testament to God.
* As testament is actually another word for covenant and therefore the designation actually means "Old Covenant with God, New Covenant with God" we don't really need a "Current Covenant with God". The Christ led one will suffice for us all. Therefore I use the term here more as a designation of time (as in Old Testament Times vs. New Testament Times).
Monday, December 17, 2007
Delayed Reaction
At 11:59pm last night I finished working on all of my projects for the entire winter season and semester. My two films, two papers, two sound projects and other projects were all done. I had been working solidly since Thanksgiving, and even longer on most of the projects. My average sleep for the past three weeks had been around 6 hours a night (nothing like Ariel, but still...) and my total output had been just shy of incredible - even for me. And when I finally shut down my computer and stared straight ahead, I wondered how I should feel about completing all this work.
I was tired. That was how I felt. Not overjoyed, not elated, not ready to celebrate or scream for joy. I wasn't about to run out into the street and send a goose to Tiny Tim for Christmas. I wasn't about to run twelve blocks to ask Sally to marry me. I wasn't about to throw my sword across a field and cry, "FREEDOM!" No. I just say there and said, "I'm tired. I think I'll go to bed now." Kind of like Forrest Gump after running across the country three times in a row.
I got up from my desk, walked into the bathroom, and started to brush my teeth. And as I stood there and looked into the mirror at my puffy face and bloodshot eyes, the enormity of all those projects and all those deadlines met, and the very real notion that I'd done good work, if not great work, hit me and I suddenly felt this overwhelming feeling of true gratitude to God for having pulled me through it all. It was like getting to the top of a nasty hill and then suddenly looking down to see that Jesus had been carrying you the entire time. My eyes welled up with tears, which was really annoying as I had a vibrating toothbrush in my mouth at the time, and I started to praise God for all my blessings.
Its hard sometimes to read the Old Testament and remember the God that inscribed His law in my heart. Reading and rereading all those rules and regulations and trying to imagine that there isn't some egotistic perfectionist God out there telling the Israelites how its gotta be is a hard thing to do when you read the Pentatuch (double word score bonus for Hebrew words). You wonder why God seems to be telling the Israelites how to worship Him. And then, you get a reminder of how God can bestow blessings in your life, and you suddenly feel that He is worth every ounce of praise He receives and then some. Then its not so hard to imagine that an entire people, brought out of Egypt and fed and watered daily, might want to worship God.
But here's the thing... here's the metaphor... the wilderness of Sinai is something we carry with us all the time, and without food or water or God, we will perish in our wilderness of society as well. God is there to provide for us. And, as a result, we should praise him and worship him for all the wonderful things He does, but also for the basics of life. We are all His people. And once we remember that, we will be allowed to claim our inheritance.
This post is all over the place, but that's kind of how it tumbled into my head and heart last night - only much faster and in a jumble. I felt it and thought it all at the same time. And when God reveals his truth to me, its so wonderful that my body can not contain it all at once and tears of joy spill out.
I call those moments, my Holy Spirit moments. And I half expect to look in the mirror and see a flame over my head and to hear myself speaking in tongues.
So the end result is that I am finally done. I am still tired. And I am filled with the love and praise of Christ Almighty. And all just in time for Christmas.
Amen.
I was tired. That was how I felt. Not overjoyed, not elated, not ready to celebrate or scream for joy. I wasn't about to run out into the street and send a goose to Tiny Tim for Christmas. I wasn't about to run twelve blocks to ask Sally to marry me. I wasn't about to throw my sword across a field and cry, "FREEDOM!" No. I just say there and said, "I'm tired. I think I'll go to bed now." Kind of like Forrest Gump after running across the country three times in a row.
I got up from my desk, walked into the bathroom, and started to brush my teeth. And as I stood there and looked into the mirror at my puffy face and bloodshot eyes, the enormity of all those projects and all those deadlines met, and the very real notion that I'd done good work, if not great work, hit me and I suddenly felt this overwhelming feeling of true gratitude to God for having pulled me through it all. It was like getting to the top of a nasty hill and then suddenly looking down to see that Jesus had been carrying you the entire time. My eyes welled up with tears, which was really annoying as I had a vibrating toothbrush in my mouth at the time, and I started to praise God for all my blessings.
Its hard sometimes to read the Old Testament and remember the God that inscribed His law in my heart. Reading and rereading all those rules and regulations and trying to imagine that there isn't some egotistic perfectionist God out there telling the Israelites how its gotta be is a hard thing to do when you read the Pentatuch (double word score bonus for Hebrew words). You wonder why God seems to be telling the Israelites how to worship Him. And then, you get a reminder of how God can bestow blessings in your life, and you suddenly feel that He is worth every ounce of praise He receives and then some. Then its not so hard to imagine that an entire people, brought out of Egypt and fed and watered daily, might want to worship God.
But here's the thing... here's the metaphor... the wilderness of Sinai is something we carry with us all the time, and without food or water or God, we will perish in our wilderness of society as well. God is there to provide for us. And, as a result, we should praise him and worship him for all the wonderful things He does, but also for the basics of life. We are all His people. And once we remember that, we will be allowed to claim our inheritance.
This post is all over the place, but that's kind of how it tumbled into my head and heart last night - only much faster and in a jumble. I felt it and thought it all at the same time. And when God reveals his truth to me, its so wonderful that my body can not contain it all at once and tears of joy spill out.
I call those moments, my Holy Spirit moments. And I half expect to look in the mirror and see a flame over my head and to hear myself speaking in tongues.
So the end result is that I am finally done. I am still tired. And I am filled with the love and praise of Christ Almighty. And all just in time for Christmas.
Amen.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Sustainable Futures
There's probably an ah ha out there and a I told you so. But if there is, I don't remember them.
The first Dams were built not with the idea of hydro-electric power or watermills or anything useful in mind, so much as a way to keep the countryside from flooding. The feast or famile approach to existence was a very primitive but necessary way of life, since they had no concept of dams yet. Once the dam was invented and people could keep themselves from becoming inundated, agriculture could thrive and modern society could really develop.
I've been pondering that lately as I approach modern life.
I wrote earlier this fall at the almost perfect storm of a schedule that I was contemplating. So far, I've managed to weather most of the storm and am happy to say that by this time next week, I will be in clear skies and sailing free. I'm not adverse to a little weather from time to time, but the past couple of months, and especially the past six weeks, have taught me that if you can avoid being inundated you ought to do that.
And so, in my idle moments now while I wrap up the few remaining projects that I still have to do (and ponder all that Christmas shopping I have yet to even contemplate) I am beginning to imagine a sustainable future wherein I don't overimmerse myself in projects and plans. I am trying to contemplate a slow and sustainable rate of growth insted of throwing all projects on the fire at once.
Nobody knows what the future holds for them, of course, but I'd like to be prepared to tackle things on my own terms as much as possible. So the planning for the future begins and the dam thing better work.
The first Dams were built not with the idea of hydro-electric power or watermills or anything useful in mind, so much as a way to keep the countryside from flooding. The feast or famile approach to existence was a very primitive but necessary way of life, since they had no concept of dams yet. Once the dam was invented and people could keep themselves from becoming inundated, agriculture could thrive and modern society could really develop.
I've been pondering that lately as I approach modern life.
I wrote earlier this fall at the almost perfect storm of a schedule that I was contemplating. So far, I've managed to weather most of the storm and am happy to say that by this time next week, I will be in clear skies and sailing free. I'm not adverse to a little weather from time to time, but the past couple of months, and especially the past six weeks, have taught me that if you can avoid being inundated you ought to do that.
And so, in my idle moments now while I wrap up the few remaining projects that I still have to do (and ponder all that Christmas shopping I have yet to even contemplate) I am beginning to imagine a sustainable future wherein I don't overimmerse myself in projects and plans. I am trying to contemplate a slow and sustainable rate of growth insted of throwing all projects on the fire at once.
Nobody knows what the future holds for them, of course, but I'd like to be prepared to tackle things on my own terms as much as possible. So the planning for the future begins and the dam thing better work.
Friday, December 07, 2007
How would THAT look under the tree?
A little light Friday after a long week...
Occasionally I read the subject lines of spam e-mail and I can't help but wondering if the e-mail is as creative as the headline. But the one I just saw made me smile even though I immediately erased it.
It read: "Santa will make your willie stronger and thicker."
This sudden explosion (pardon the pun) of hoohaa related spams has at least made the purveyors of spamdom start thinking creatively to get people to open their e-mails. I've hand promises of all kinds about strengthening my rope, extending my reach, thickening my third leg, etc... But to me, there are flaws in the basic approach to the spam. The flaws are similar to those messages you see at the beginning of DVD's, "This program has been modified to fit your TV screen." How do they know how big my screen is? How do they know it needs to be modified? I'm quite happy with my screen. It can do the job just fine, giving me robust color and powerful channel reception, and if I want to enjoy the privacy of my screen in my own home, I can do that too. So keep your program modification out of my home, damn you! Oh wait... what was I talking about again?
Oh, that's right... Santa. Imagine him carrying this thing around in his sleigh and then trying to shove it down a chimminey. Too painful? Probably.
I'm getting out while the getting is good.
Have a nice weekend.
Occasionally I read the subject lines of spam e-mail and I can't help but wondering if the e-mail is as creative as the headline. But the one I just saw made me smile even though I immediately erased it.
It read: "Santa will make your willie stronger and thicker."
This sudden explosion (pardon the pun) of hoohaa related spams has at least made the purveyors of spamdom start thinking creatively to get people to open their e-mails. I've hand promises of all kinds about strengthening my rope, extending my reach, thickening my third leg, etc... But to me, there are flaws in the basic approach to the spam. The flaws are similar to those messages you see at the beginning of DVD's, "This program has been modified to fit your TV screen." How do they know how big my screen is? How do they know it needs to be modified? I'm quite happy with my screen. It can do the job just fine, giving me robust color and powerful channel reception, and if I want to enjoy the privacy of my screen in my own home, I can do that too. So keep your program modification out of my home, damn you! Oh wait... what was I talking about again?
Oh, that's right... Santa. Imagine him carrying this thing around in his sleigh and then trying to shove it down a chimminey. Too painful? Probably.
I'm getting out while the getting is good.
Have a nice weekend.
Thursday, December 06, 2007
A Good and Faithful Servant Returns Home
I just found out from my sister today that my Aunt Jane passed away recently. Apparently there were some communications issues and we just found out about it yesterday - after the funeral. And that's all right with me.
My Aunt Jane was just about the most religious person I know. She was the kind of woman who used to let us kids read those Catholic comic books that depicted the Bible stories in graphic detail and where a priest would fight off demons to protect unborn fetuses from being aborted. But there wasn't a hint of hypocrisy in her body. She was a real believer and a real wonderful woman, and one of the kindest relatives I can remember ever having.
She owned a big old house in Oakland and we used to go over and visit her when we were younger. Then my Mom got sick and we would visit less and less often. But when my Mom was better, she actually went and lived with my Aunt and had a small number of rooms to herself on the lower floors, and we kids were able to spend Christmas with our Mom. I always loved that house. It seemed to take on the character of my aunt - prim, proper, and kind. I can't explain it.
I last saw my aunt about ten years ago. She was in her 80's then and still going on strong, but she was going to sell the house and move into an assisted living center. I guess I didn't know that it would be the last time I saw her, but I'm not sure it would have made much of a difference. I gave her a hug and thanked her as I left and she smiled and thanked me for coming and I felt like she meant it.
She was 93. And now she has finally returned home to be with the Lord who loves her. I will miss her, but I'm pretty sure she's where she always wanted to be in the first place.
Please send out a prayer for my Aunt and for her loved ones who might still be grieving.
My Aunt Jane was just about the most religious person I know. She was the kind of woman who used to let us kids read those Catholic comic books that depicted the Bible stories in graphic detail and where a priest would fight off demons to protect unborn fetuses from being aborted. But there wasn't a hint of hypocrisy in her body. She was a real believer and a real wonderful woman, and one of the kindest relatives I can remember ever having.
She owned a big old house in Oakland and we used to go over and visit her when we were younger. Then my Mom got sick and we would visit less and less often. But when my Mom was better, she actually went and lived with my Aunt and had a small number of rooms to herself on the lower floors, and we kids were able to spend Christmas with our Mom. I always loved that house. It seemed to take on the character of my aunt - prim, proper, and kind. I can't explain it.
I last saw my aunt about ten years ago. She was in her 80's then and still going on strong, but she was going to sell the house and move into an assisted living center. I guess I didn't know that it would be the last time I saw her, but I'm not sure it would have made much of a difference. I gave her a hug and thanked her as I left and she smiled and thanked me for coming and I felt like she meant it.
She was 93. And now she has finally returned home to be with the Lord who loves her. I will miss her, but I'm pretty sure she's where she always wanted to be in the first place.
Please send out a prayer for my Aunt and for her loved ones who might still be grieving.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Inspiration costs more!
I've been smashing my head against the wall since Sunday trying to figure out what to do about my half completed film now that my actors are no longer able to help me finish it and the deadline is two weeks from today. Though I've head plenty of ideas, none of them really sat right with me, as the film was a complicated mix of religion, humor and bizarreness that worked together. Replacing one moment of bizarreness for another wouldn't necessarily work. The elements all had to fit together to work.
I was finally at that point today when I was ready to set my mind to a particular idea that would finish the film, but wouldn't make a great film. I was just going about figuring out the logistics of this new idea - what footage I would need, what new props, etc... when I suddenly had a very funny vision and my mind seized upon it.
Though I had an idea and it would have worked, it wasn't the genius solution I had been hoping for. This new idea is genius. By holding out as long as I did, I was able to arrive at the idea that I really needed.
Which just goes to show you, ideas are cheap. Inspiration costs more.
I was finally at that point today when I was ready to set my mind to a particular idea that would finish the film, but wouldn't make a great film. I was just going about figuring out the logistics of this new idea - what footage I would need, what new props, etc... when I suddenly had a very funny vision and my mind seized upon it.
Though I had an idea and it would have worked, it wasn't the genius solution I had been hoping for. This new idea is genius. By holding out as long as I did, I was able to arrive at the idea that I really needed.
Which just goes to show you, ideas are cheap. Inspiration costs more.
Monday, December 03, 2007
Getting Old Isn't All Bad
Item: I had an early senior moment on Sunday. I was reading one of the hymns in church and my mind did one of those old people things and I suddenly had to chuckle because instead of praising the truine God, I was praising the Itune God ;)
Item: I had an extremely unproductive weekend. In terms of school disasters, it ranked right up there with the time that my two part 64 page epic short story got erased before I could print it out for school and I had to start over from scratch with a week left before it was due (as I recall it came out better, but we won't go there). I was trying to finish my film this weekend with three actors. One of the three actors kept telling me that he'd be there, but when I was ready with everyone else and the equipment he bailed on me - not once, but twice! In both cases I had to apologize to the other actors and send them on their way, but in the meantime, I wasted my entire weekend getting nothing done. To say that I was mad was an understatement. But one of the nice things about getting older is that I find it easier to have my anger assuaged. After my team finished first in The Amazing Race, I suddenly realized that I was no longer mad. I don't think I've ever felt so angry about something and then came to a true sense of peace about it in so short a period of time in my life. But God knew that I needed to get to that place, so He simply took away my anger. That's the best description I can give for it. There were more important matters on God's agenda than me being mad. And so, all is forgiven and forgotten. And now comes the question of how to put this bloody film mess back together again in so short a time.
Item: I had the distinct pleasure of watching my Dad and my Uncle (both old enough to know better) get in trouble this weekend. It wasn't one of those serious kinds of trouble, more of a scolding, but it was like one of those deja vu moments from my childhood only in reverse. Very character revealing.
Item: My brother hit a major rough patch in his life when he turned 40 this year. He's fast approaching his 41st birthday and I'd like to say that his life has never been better. My brother can be a real jerk sometimes, but when he isn't, he's one of the coolest guys I know. I mention this mostly because 40 is still two years away for me, and I'd like to think that I'll approach it with grace and dignity. But I'm worried that I'll freak out and succumb to some sort of mid-life crisis like others have. As a writer who lives in his head a little too much, the possibility definitely exists. I hope you'll all be around to straighten me out if I should get a little bent.
Item: It's easier to keep secrets as you get older. As these are the holidays, that's all I'm going to say for now.
Have a good week and remember that it is both fitting and wonderful to follow the Itune God. ;)
Item: I had an extremely unproductive weekend. In terms of school disasters, it ranked right up there with the time that my two part 64 page epic short story got erased before I could print it out for school and I had to start over from scratch with a week left before it was due (as I recall it came out better, but we won't go there). I was trying to finish my film this weekend with three actors. One of the three actors kept telling me that he'd be there, but when I was ready with everyone else and the equipment he bailed on me - not once, but twice! In both cases I had to apologize to the other actors and send them on their way, but in the meantime, I wasted my entire weekend getting nothing done. To say that I was mad was an understatement. But one of the nice things about getting older is that I find it easier to have my anger assuaged. After my team finished first in The Amazing Race, I suddenly realized that I was no longer mad. I don't think I've ever felt so angry about something and then came to a true sense of peace about it in so short a period of time in my life. But God knew that I needed to get to that place, so He simply took away my anger. That's the best description I can give for it. There were more important matters on God's agenda than me being mad. And so, all is forgiven and forgotten. And now comes the question of how to put this bloody film mess back together again in so short a time.
Item: I had the distinct pleasure of watching my Dad and my Uncle (both old enough to know better) get in trouble this weekend. It wasn't one of those serious kinds of trouble, more of a scolding, but it was like one of those deja vu moments from my childhood only in reverse. Very character revealing.
Item: My brother hit a major rough patch in his life when he turned 40 this year. He's fast approaching his 41st birthday and I'd like to say that his life has never been better. My brother can be a real jerk sometimes, but when he isn't, he's one of the coolest guys I know. I mention this mostly because 40 is still two years away for me, and I'd like to think that I'll approach it with grace and dignity. But I'm worried that I'll freak out and succumb to some sort of mid-life crisis like others have. As a writer who lives in his head a little too much, the possibility definitely exists. I hope you'll all be around to straighten me out if I should get a little bent.
Item: It's easier to keep secrets as you get older. As these are the holidays, that's all I'm going to say for now.
Have a good week and remember that it is both fitting and wonderful to follow the Itune God. ;)
Thursday, November 29, 2007
McCain Pushes To Put Jesus On Dollar Bill
SALT LAKE CITY (CAP) - Republican Presidential candidate John McCain today called upon the United States to pay homage to its alleged Christian roots by replacing George Washington on the $1 bill with a more appropriate image, that of Jesus Christ.
The plea surprised some political analysts, who had assumed that McCain's reference to the U.S. as a 'Christian nation' in a recent Beliefnet interview was nothing more than pandering to the base.
"I dunno, maybe he did get loopy for the Lord somewhere out there on the Straight-Talk Express," one reporter told CAP News. "I had to cover that thing for two days in June, and I know I was praying to get the hell off."
Speaking at the annual Cattlemen for Christ convention in Salt Lake City, McCain said that his first act upon becoming President would be to sign into law a provision that would strip the $1 bill of the country's famous founder and replace it with "the nation's true spiritual founder, our Lord Jesus Christ."
"The beautiful thing about the $1 bill is that even the poor can afford them, just like they can afford the teachings of Jesus," McCain said to boisterous mooing. "Some think we should call it Messiah Money or Christ Cash, but I'm personally in favor of a shift in emphasis, from the one dollar bill to The One dollar bill."
While critics were quick to quietly question McCain's motives and the costs associated with such a massive overhaul of the nation's most popular currency bill, McCain's fellow Republican Presidential candidates were left scrambling to one-up the senator with their own monetary proposals.
The race's only Mormon, former Massachusetts governor Mitt Romney, said he would put a smiling Jesus on multiple bills, noting, "I want to see the same thing when I open my wallet as I do when I open my bedroom door: many smiling faces."
For former New York mayor and terrorism-survivor Rudy Giuliani, Jesus would only adorn the $20 bill.
"What is 20? 9+11. Need I say more?" Giuliani said.
Bypassing Jesus entirely and heading right to the nation's first Republican saint, Fred Thompson would put a picture of Ronald Reagan on "some bill, I don't know, we're looking into it."
The plea surprised some political analysts, who had assumed that McCain's reference to the U.S. as a 'Christian nation' in a recent Beliefnet interview was nothing more than pandering to the base.
"I dunno, maybe he did get loopy for the Lord somewhere out there on the Straight-Talk Express," one reporter told CAP News. "I had to cover that thing for two days in June, and I know I was praying to get the hell off."
Speaking at the annual Cattlemen for Christ convention in Salt Lake City, McCain said that his first act upon becoming President would be to sign into law a provision that would strip the $1 bill of the country's famous founder and replace it with "the nation's true spiritual founder, our Lord Jesus Christ."
"The beautiful thing about the $1 bill is that even the poor can afford them, just like they can afford the teachings of Jesus," McCain said to boisterous mooing. "Some think we should call it Messiah Money or Christ Cash, but I'm personally in favor of a shift in emphasis, from the one dollar bill to The One dollar bill."
While critics were quick to quietly question McCain's motives and the costs associated with such a massive overhaul of the nation's most popular currency bill, McCain's fellow Republican Presidential candidates were left scrambling to one-up the senator with their own monetary proposals.
The race's only Mormon, former Massachusetts governor Mitt Romney, said he would put a smiling Jesus on multiple bills, noting, "I want to see the same thing when I open my wallet as I do when I open my bedroom door: many smiling faces."
For former New York mayor and terrorism-survivor Rudy Giuliani, Jesus would only adorn the $20 bill.
"What is 20? 9+11. Need I say more?" Giuliani said.
Bypassing Jesus entirely and heading right to the nation's first Republican saint, Fred Thompson would put a picture of Ronald Reagan on "some bill, I don't know, we're looking into it."
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
You can't corrupt those who don't read...
I was worried that this apology might offend my readers considering its R rated nature, then I realized that nobody reads my blog anyway, so it won't matter. ;)
I would like to apologize for a particular bane of human existence as its all based on a terrible typo that I made.
You see, I work for a particular company that sells pens. And I've been trying to sell one particular pen for a long time. Its been languishing in the doldrums for years now, just collecting dust. The problem is that this particular writing instrument is larger than other writing instruments, too big really to hold in your hand. And since most people prefer their writing implements small so that they can get a firm grip on them, well, this was a hard sell.
So, I had this idea for a mass marketing e-mail to help sell this particular item. I decided on a great headline, "'Embiggen your Pen!' is the rallying cry of a new generation!" Unfortunately, my overseas counterparts got the English translation wrong, and the headline instead read, "Embiggen your Penis the rallying cry of a new generation, which further got refined to, "Embiggen your penis - the rallying cry of a new generation," and finally just to "Embiggen your penis". This mass e-mail got sent to everyone, or so I hear, but people, naturally, refused to open it. And so they never got to find out about our pen.
More's the pity, because its a really great instrument and it really can do wonders for your sex life. Oh, I'm sorry... another typo there. What I meant to say was, it really can do wonders for your sec's life - as in secretary. What did you think I meant? ;)
This has been another cautionary tale from the fevered mind of Lanz Franco.
I would like to apologize for a particular bane of human existence as its all based on a terrible typo that I made.
You see, I work for a particular company that sells pens. And I've been trying to sell one particular pen for a long time. Its been languishing in the doldrums for years now, just collecting dust. The problem is that this particular writing instrument is larger than other writing instruments, too big really to hold in your hand. And since most people prefer their writing implements small so that they can get a firm grip on them, well, this was a hard sell.
So, I had this idea for a mass marketing e-mail to help sell this particular item. I decided on a great headline, "'Embiggen your Pen!' is the rallying cry of a new generation!" Unfortunately, my overseas counterparts got the English translation wrong, and the headline instead read, "Embiggen your Penis the rallying cry of a new generation, which further got refined to, "Embiggen your penis - the rallying cry of a new generation," and finally just to "Embiggen your penis". This mass e-mail got sent to everyone, or so I hear, but people, naturally, refused to open it. And so they never got to find out about our pen.
More's the pity, because its a really great instrument and it really can do wonders for your sex life. Oh, I'm sorry... another typo there. What I meant to say was, it really can do wonders for your sec's life - as in secretary. What did you think I meant? ;)
This has been another cautionary tale from the fevered mind of Lanz Franco.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
I'm tired of being reasonable
I know the Good Book says to love my enemies, but first I have to admit that I have enemies. The people that hack me off the most are any unreasonable, over compensating, individuals or groups who are the enemies of all things that I hold dear - fair play, honesty, freedom, love, and God. Right now, one group in particular has made me very angry.
To those people who have arrested a teacher in Sudan because her students named a teddy bear Muhammad (after a boy in class, by the way) you need to grow up and get a life or Allah is going to personally spank you for being brats. A Teddy Bear is not the prophet. Nobody but you seems to think that this is an insult to the prophet. While I didn't agree with your stance on the whole Danish cartoon thing, I at least understood where you were coming from in that argument. In this one, you're just plain wrong. Period. End of line.
So grow up and release the teacher! Or you will have the enmity of at least one American and probably a great many other reasonable human beings raining down on you in the near future.
P.S. I still love you even though it hurts my heart.
To those people who have arrested a teacher in Sudan because her students named a teddy bear Muhammad (after a boy in class, by the way) you need to grow up and get a life or Allah is going to personally spank you for being brats. A Teddy Bear is not the prophet. Nobody but you seems to think that this is an insult to the prophet. While I didn't agree with your stance on the whole Danish cartoon thing, I at least understood where you were coming from in that argument. In this one, you're just plain wrong. Period. End of line.
So grow up and release the teacher! Or you will have the enmity of at least one American and probably a great many other reasonable human beings raining down on you in the near future.
P.S. I still love you even though it hurts my heart.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Prepare to be impressed!
The Definitive Answer on Free Will and Why Time Travel Is Impossible!
A Scholarly Treatise of Immense Religious And Scientific Importance!
Read It Now And Nominate Me For Whatever Nobel Prize I Deserve!
Okay, maybe its not all that hype worthy, because it depends so much on faith and not a whole lot on science, except that if you believe one, then the other must follow.
Here's how it all begins - Exodus, Chapter (10-11, somewhere in there). God through Moses through Aaron baits Pharoah - let my people go or... fill in nasty plague here. If you don't, then I will surely send a plague of locusts, etc... tomorrow. So, here's the thing that drives me nuts. My NIV Bible tries to explain away this judgment from God as making perfectly logical sense based on the time of year, the previous plague and other atmospheric data, and, the tendency of locusts, flies, floods, etc... to occur in Egypt all the time. As if it were that simple. But then it occurs to me, okay - even if that were the case, how did God know that such a plague would occur at precisely that time? And if it was going to occur naturally anyway, what if Pharoah had said, "Okay, you win. Take your people and go?" Would God have been able to stop a naturally occuring plague from striking if all He was doing was looking into the future and seeing something that was going to happen anyway? But if God knew what was going to happen in the future, what does that do with our free will? Questions without answers, it seems, until I finally figured something out.
The key to the whole thing is that we were made in God's image. God gave us free will, but God never claimed that He didn't also have free will. You've got free will, but doesn't it feel like sometimes you have no choice but to do X even though you don't want to? Other people can, one by one, strip you of your options until you only have one choice that day. Its either do X or die. But you still have Free Will. You can always choose to die - you still have that other choice. So if, with our own free will, we can limit the choices of others to the point where they only have one real option left to them - i.e. do what we want them to do - then why can't we also prescribe to God the exact same ability?
Add to this ability of free will is God's omniscience. He knows everything, he sees everything, and he knows how its all going to come out. God can see the future and He can rig it so that all the good people win and all the bad people lose by using His free will to subtly make things so that you have a very limited number of choices (good or bad, right or wrong, God or... oblivion). Ultimately, its up to you to make that choice. Ultimately, you have free will - even if the choice you're going to make is known by God in advance.
Pharoah could choose to let the Hebrews go at any time he wants, but God already knows that Pharoah won't until after Passover. He's looked ahead and seen what's coming in Chapter 12 even while we're back at Chapter 5. So, He can see that there will be a plague of locusts and that this will cause Pharoah distress but that he will still not let Moses' people go.
But how can God be absolutely certain that Pharoah won't change his mind? Because we only get once chance to make the right choice. God may give us plenty of choices to make, but we only get one chance per choice. Time does not move backwards for us. Ever. And every choice we make is inviolate. It can not be undone. It can not be altered after the fact. Every step we take is forward, never backwards.
Because if we could go back and undo a choice we made, if we could "redo" our bad decisions, then we could alter and undo everything that's already been done. We could, in essence, make a liar of God's omniscience. And when the locust plague didn't show up as God had said it would, we would show God to be a fake.
But since we know that God is all knowing and all powerful, we also know that this can not be done. That nothing and no one can undo what God has done, except God.
Therefore, time travel - or more specifically, time travel that allows for interaction with and the possibility of alteration of the past - is not possible. Free will is still free will... but it only goes in one direction.
You may now start the Nobel Committee letter writing campaign and I promise to humbly accept my award next year on behalf of the blogosphere.
Thank you.
A Scholarly Treatise of Immense Religious And Scientific Importance!
Read It Now And Nominate Me For Whatever Nobel Prize I Deserve!
Okay, maybe its not all that hype worthy, because it depends so much on faith and not a whole lot on science, except that if you believe one, then the other must follow.
Here's how it all begins - Exodus, Chapter (10-11, somewhere in there). God through Moses through Aaron baits Pharoah - let my people go or... fill in nasty plague here. If you don't, then I will surely send a plague of locusts, etc... tomorrow. So, here's the thing that drives me nuts. My NIV Bible tries to explain away this judgment from God as making perfectly logical sense based on the time of year, the previous plague and other atmospheric data, and, the tendency of locusts, flies, floods, etc... to occur in Egypt all the time. As if it were that simple. But then it occurs to me, okay - even if that were the case, how did God know that such a plague would occur at precisely that time? And if it was going to occur naturally anyway, what if Pharoah had said, "Okay, you win. Take your people and go?" Would God have been able to stop a naturally occuring plague from striking if all He was doing was looking into the future and seeing something that was going to happen anyway? But if God knew what was going to happen in the future, what does that do with our free will? Questions without answers, it seems, until I finally figured something out.
The key to the whole thing is that we were made in God's image. God gave us free will, but God never claimed that He didn't also have free will. You've got free will, but doesn't it feel like sometimes you have no choice but to do X even though you don't want to? Other people can, one by one, strip you of your options until you only have one choice that day. Its either do X or die. But you still have Free Will. You can always choose to die - you still have that other choice. So if, with our own free will, we can limit the choices of others to the point where they only have one real option left to them - i.e. do what we want them to do - then why can't we also prescribe to God the exact same ability?
Add to this ability of free will is God's omniscience. He knows everything, he sees everything, and he knows how its all going to come out. God can see the future and He can rig it so that all the good people win and all the bad people lose by using His free will to subtly make things so that you have a very limited number of choices (good or bad, right or wrong, God or... oblivion). Ultimately, its up to you to make that choice. Ultimately, you have free will - even if the choice you're going to make is known by God in advance.
Pharoah could choose to let the Hebrews go at any time he wants, but God already knows that Pharoah won't until after Passover. He's looked ahead and seen what's coming in Chapter 12 even while we're back at Chapter 5. So, He can see that there will be a plague of locusts and that this will cause Pharoah distress but that he will still not let Moses' people go.
But how can God be absolutely certain that Pharoah won't change his mind? Because we only get once chance to make the right choice. God may give us plenty of choices to make, but we only get one chance per choice. Time does not move backwards for us. Ever. And every choice we make is inviolate. It can not be undone. It can not be altered after the fact. Every step we take is forward, never backwards.
Because if we could go back and undo a choice we made, if we could "redo" our bad decisions, then we could alter and undo everything that's already been done. We could, in essence, make a liar of God's omniscience. And when the locust plague didn't show up as God had said it would, we would show God to be a fake.
But since we know that God is all knowing and all powerful, we also know that this can not be done. That nothing and no one can undo what God has done, except God.
Therefore, time travel - or more specifically, time travel that allows for interaction with and the possibility of alteration of the past - is not possible. Free will is still free will... but it only goes in one direction.
You may now start the Nobel Committee letter writing campaign and I promise to humbly accept my award next year on behalf of the blogosphere.
Thank you.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Thankful For Mud and Crud
My sister's excellent Thanksgiving blog (at Superstar) kind of stole my thunder because she summed up what it is to be truly thankful in these hard times - to thank God for kids and family and job and health and all those other things. Its not that I'm not thankful for those things, although I admit to sometimes taking them for granted, its just that when I look back on this year I find myself being thankful for mud and for crud more than for happiness and health.
Its great, of course, to be happy and healthy, but if you're lost in the woods of life, happiness and health are overrated commodities - especially when you don't even realize that you're lost. Sometimes we should be thankful for just as many wrong turns as we should be thankful for the right ones.
So my list of thankful moments begins with Mud - particularly the mud of Westminster Woods just a few weeks ago when I was trudging around trying to build a playground in the rain. Why would I be thankful for mud? Wouldn't a nice bright sunshiny day have been more pleasant? Absolutely, but when you want to be reminded what being truly alive and doing God's work is really like, a little mud adds that je ne sais quot touch (colloquial French increases the educational level of this blog, right?), that divine layer of authenticism. Wallowing in the mud is such a metaphor for what we must do in order to be effective for God that its almost as subtle as being hit over the head with a crowbar, maul or... uh, whatever that other tool was. It was also fun. Lots of fun. And a great and wonderful reminder of what fun it is to embrace nature. So, I am particularly thankful for Mud this year.
Not that Crud takes a back seat to anyone. I dealt with a great deal of it this year - from a minor painful issue with my brother to a blow up at church with a friend to a serious setback in Film school. Each time I was reminded that I am not special, that I am not above causing pain, and that I have a great deal to remember in being a good Christian and a good person. When we don't interact socially, we aren't refined the way we need to be - our edges get a little sharp and brittle. Dealing with other people tends to shake up our view of the world and helps us blunt the sharp edges and become more rounded individuals and better Christians. Every time I'm hit in the face with the Zoo Monkey Crud of life, I take a step back, shocked, and then wipe the stink from my face. I don't always throw the crud, but I'm always close enough to be hit by it. It always stinks. It always stings. It always leaves a stain. But it always leaves me a little better at dodging it the next time. Getting hit with crud is God's way of refining us and reminding us that our crud does stink too. So I am thankful for crud and say, "Bring it on!"
Oh, and maybe its a good idea to roll down a window...
May you all be prepared to dodge the crud and embrace the mud this weekend.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Its great, of course, to be happy and healthy, but if you're lost in the woods of life, happiness and health are overrated commodities - especially when you don't even realize that you're lost. Sometimes we should be thankful for just as many wrong turns as we should be thankful for the right ones.
So my list of thankful moments begins with Mud - particularly the mud of Westminster Woods just a few weeks ago when I was trudging around trying to build a playground in the rain. Why would I be thankful for mud? Wouldn't a nice bright sunshiny day have been more pleasant? Absolutely, but when you want to be reminded what being truly alive and doing God's work is really like, a little mud adds that je ne sais quot touch (colloquial French increases the educational level of this blog, right?), that divine layer of authenticism. Wallowing in the mud is such a metaphor for what we must do in order to be effective for God that its almost as subtle as being hit over the head with a crowbar, maul or... uh, whatever that other tool was. It was also fun. Lots of fun. And a great and wonderful reminder of what fun it is to embrace nature. So, I am particularly thankful for Mud this year.
Not that Crud takes a back seat to anyone. I dealt with a great deal of it this year - from a minor painful issue with my brother to a blow up at church with a friend to a serious setback in Film school. Each time I was reminded that I am not special, that I am not above causing pain, and that I have a great deal to remember in being a good Christian and a good person. When we don't interact socially, we aren't refined the way we need to be - our edges get a little sharp and brittle. Dealing with other people tends to shake up our view of the world and helps us blunt the sharp edges and become more rounded individuals and better Christians. Every time I'm hit in the face with the Zoo Monkey Crud of life, I take a step back, shocked, and then wipe the stink from my face. I don't always throw the crud, but I'm always close enough to be hit by it. It always stinks. It always stings. It always leaves a stain. But it always leaves me a little better at dodging it the next time. Getting hit with crud is God's way of refining us and reminding us that our crud does stink too. So I am thankful for crud and say, "Bring it on!"
Oh, and maybe its a good idea to roll down a window...
May you all be prepared to dodge the crud and embrace the mud this weekend.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
There's never enough happiness
In which your humble correspondent explains to you the secret of happiness...
As a writer, I am fueled by happiness. No, not the mind tripping, day at Disneyland variety, but the average run of the mill everything is running smoothly variety. I have never been able to work when I am sad or angry or just bothered - hot or cold. In order for me to go visit my writer's place, I need to be sure that the regular world is going along just fine.
And so, it occurred to me as a passing fancy the other day, that if I could only just be happy all the time, then I could get a lot more writing done.
Phhfft! Fat chance!
Other than living off a steady supply of prozac or other narcotics, there is absolutely no way to be happy all the time... or is there? As human beings, we have been searching for the source of true happiness since time began. We have tried love, money, drugs, magic, religion, and all sorts of other remedies, but we've never quite gotten that one thing that is the source of true happiness. True and lasting happiness doesn't exist, does it?
So what chance did I have in finding true happiness if nobody ever had enough happiness for themselves. Happiness, then, being a commodity that we all like to hoard for ourselves and we can never get enough of it. And that was when I made a breakthrough and discovered the secret.
We can't be happy all the time because true happiness can only be given, not received.
Think about it. What have you done in your life that guaranteed you happiness? Nothing. Not one thing. You have been happy in the past, sure, but where did that happiness come from? Someone else. If it was that pony that you wanted as a child, that your grandpa gave to you as a birthday present, suddenly you were extremely happy. Did you get the pony yourself? No. Had you gotten the pony yourself, would you have been happy? Probably not, unless the struggle to earn the pony made you feel that you were lucky to have it - that someone or something had provided it for you. So happiness can only be given, and the only way to get happiness is to have it given to you.
So, how do you get enough happiness to last a life time? You give it out as much as possible. The more you give, the more you receive.
Darn, that God was sure clever to invent a system like that, virtually guaranteeing that we would be nice to each other... if only to be nice to ourselves.
As a writer, I am fueled by happiness. No, not the mind tripping, day at Disneyland variety, but the average run of the mill everything is running smoothly variety. I have never been able to work when I am sad or angry or just bothered - hot or cold. In order for me to go visit my writer's place, I need to be sure that the regular world is going along just fine.
And so, it occurred to me as a passing fancy the other day, that if I could only just be happy all the time, then I could get a lot more writing done.
Phhfft! Fat chance!
Other than living off a steady supply of prozac or other narcotics, there is absolutely no way to be happy all the time... or is there? As human beings, we have been searching for the source of true happiness since time began. We have tried love, money, drugs, magic, religion, and all sorts of other remedies, but we've never quite gotten that one thing that is the source of true happiness. True and lasting happiness doesn't exist, does it?
So what chance did I have in finding true happiness if nobody ever had enough happiness for themselves. Happiness, then, being a commodity that we all like to hoard for ourselves and we can never get enough of it. And that was when I made a breakthrough and discovered the secret.
We can't be happy all the time because true happiness can only be given, not received.
Think about it. What have you done in your life that guaranteed you happiness? Nothing. Not one thing. You have been happy in the past, sure, but where did that happiness come from? Someone else. If it was that pony that you wanted as a child, that your grandpa gave to you as a birthday present, suddenly you were extremely happy. Did you get the pony yourself? No. Had you gotten the pony yourself, would you have been happy? Probably not, unless the struggle to earn the pony made you feel that you were lucky to have it - that someone or something had provided it for you. So happiness can only be given, and the only way to get happiness is to have it given to you.
So, how do you get enough happiness to last a life time? You give it out as much as possible. The more you give, the more you receive.
Darn, that God was sure clever to invent a system like that, virtually guaranteeing that we would be nice to each other... if only to be nice to ourselves.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Pop Quiz, Round Two Answers
Because I know you've been waiting for this all week...
1) C
2) C
3) D
4) D
5) B
6) C
7) A
8) B
9) E
10)D
1) C
2) C
3) D
4) D
5) B
6) C
7) A
8) B
9) E
10)D
Thursday, November 15, 2007
This blog thingy
See Will blog. Will blogs well. Will blogs fast. Blog is easy to read. Blog is fun. Blog, Will, blog.
(Apparently, this blog is not erudite enough to qualify for the higher echelons of our educational system. While a paradigm shift could be attempted, I do not like to acknowledge the obvious social stratification that is rigidly enforced by such a maneuver. Besides, I like to keep all the big words for my Novel - where I get paid for them. ;)
(Apparently, this blog is not erudite enough to qualify for the higher echelons of our educational system. While a paradigm shift could be attempted, I do not like to acknowledge the obvious social stratification that is rigidly enforced by such a maneuver. Besides, I like to keep all the big words for my Novel - where I get paid for them. ;)
First a little geography lesson for Disney
A Magical Journey Begins for 100 High School Students Headed to Disney's Dreamers Academy
Walt Disney World Resort and Celebrity Radio Personality Steve Harvey Announce Participants
(November 14, 2007) Walt Disney World Resort will open the doors of the magic behind Disney to 100 creative and imaginative teens from New York to New Orleans, from Compton, CA., to Wichita, that is, from all across the United States, who have been selected to participate in Disney's Dreamers Academy. Disney worked with nationally syndicated radio personality Steve Harvey to create this innovative program.
Okay, so I checked out the list. Fortunately, with 100 participants its easy to do the stats. So how does their participant breakdown work for the United States? A full 6% of the people on the list come from the Western United States - and every single one of them comes from a city in southern California within 100 miles of Anaheim. So basically, all around the United States translates into the east coast and LA.
It's bad enough taking this biased view of the US from sports writers, but do we have to endure it from corporate giants like Disney as well. 6 people west of the Mississippi represent over half the nation. Pathetic.
First thing they should teach these kids is some geography. Who knows? Maybe they'll learn something themselves.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Should I Stay or Should I Go?
The Amazing Race is taking applications again and unfortunately, due to certain contractual rules that I signed with CBS, I can't ask my previous askee, Beach, to join me - if I should decide to enter again.
So before I commit to such an endeavor, I need a partner.
Wanted: A telegenic partner eager to race around the world, endure my bad puns, and generally make me look good by doing all the tough challenges while I preen and strut my ego before the camera and then cry during the interviews about how brave a team mate you are and how our relationship is stregthening as a result. Oh, and if there's a challenge with a zipline, I get to do it.
So, any takers?
So before I commit to such an endeavor, I need a partner.
Wanted: A telegenic partner eager to race around the world, endure my bad puns, and generally make me look good by doing all the tough challenges while I preen and strut my ego before the camera and then cry during the interviews about how brave a team mate you are and how our relationship is stregthening as a result. Oh, and if there's a challenge with a zipline, I get to do it.
So, any takers?
Monday, November 12, 2007
Simple Gift
I always have a very emotional Veteran's Day. I think for anyone who has ever donned a uniform, especially during a time of war or conflict, there will always be mixed emotions on this day. On the one hand, there is a very profound feeling of pride and accomplishment at having served your country. I always get this very Heinleinesque feeling of duty, honor, and responsibility when I think of the fact that I am a Veteran - that I put my patriotism into action, that I walked what I talked. But on the other hand, being a veteran almost always forces us to recall some sacrifice, some horror, and some innocence lost. No matter what you do in the military, you always shed something in order to feed the tree of liberty.
And so, this Veteran's Day, falling on a Sunday as it did, I found myself in church being honored and feeling small. As it so happened, our choir was singing A Simple Gift - a Shaker tune - about the simple gifts God bestows upon us. I was struck by the fact that this beloved tune was being sung on Veteran's Day and that the Shakers are one group known for their pacifism. To me, there was nothing wrong with that. Every soldier will agree that a little less war would be okay.
Before the service, my Pastor walked up to me and asked if I would read the Litany for Veterans, representing all the church veterans with my voice. I told him that I would be honored.
The service started and the thoughts began at the same time. My entire Veteran's Day experience always revolves around one particular incident. I only "knew" one soldier killed during the Gulf War. He was a quiet kid who had been in our school's ROTC program. So when it comes time to honor the fallen soldiers, I always think of him - even though I'm not sure I ever spoke a word to him in four years of High School. But I can't help but thinking of other sacrifices made during that war.
The incident occured near the end of the war, after the Marines and the Army had already pretty much taken back all of Kuwait and were driving on Baghdad. By that point, I had transfered away from my analyst job because we'd pretty much obliterated the Iraqi Navy already and was working with the Marines sending intel photos via an overglorified fax machine to the Third Marine Air Wing in Saudi Arabia. We got a dispatch from a marine recon unit that some Iraqi soldiers were setting up an anti-ship battery somewhere on the coast - with the intent of firing a missile at our carriers in the Gulf. The Marines spotted the battery with photo reconnaissance and determined the coordinates and had me fax the photo to the 3rd Marine Air Wing. In nearly real time, we "watched" as a Marine Harrier jet streaked in and blew the missile battery to bits - killing all three Iraqi soldiers instantly.
To my knowledge, its the only time I ever took part in the killing of other human beings. Boys, teenagers, like myself, who had maybe joined the Iraqi army to get enough money to go to college, or start a business, or raise a family; blown to bits. Dead. Finished. Gone. They would never again speak to their parents, or kiss their girlfriends, or pray, or laugh. They were simply gone. And I had had a part in their demise.
If Hell is the complete absense of God, then War is surely Hell.
And so, with these thoughts, I stood up to sing Simple Gift. The young teens began by playing a simple chord progression on the handbells, followed by a young lady on the viola, and then the choir began to sing.
"Its a gift to be simple, its a gift to be kind, its a gift to smile and to share a happy mind, its a gift from the Father, as we go on our way, with a joyful song at the end of the day."
The music, the voices, and then, the organ - subtly reinforcing all that had gone before - and all of a sudden I felt It. The Holy Spirit swirled around me and danced with the music and the young musicians and on top of the Choir's heads, and I suddenly couldn't contain the joy that was in my heart - the joy of God consuming me like fire.
From the depths of despair at an act of violence to the heights of joy at an act of worship, I ran the gamut on Veteran's Day. And when I read the Litany, my voice was not my own. My mind was on the families of the deceased, quietly mourning their loved ones who never returned, and on those still engaged in combat, who are even now fighting for their survival and being forced to kill in order to claim a dubious, human, victory.
We are called Veterans because we have been asked to sacrifice ourselves or our selves for the greater good. We do this willingly. And we bear the scars of our struggles.
In the end, its not such a simple gift after all.
And so, this Veteran's Day, falling on a Sunday as it did, I found myself in church being honored and feeling small. As it so happened, our choir was singing A Simple Gift - a Shaker tune - about the simple gifts God bestows upon us. I was struck by the fact that this beloved tune was being sung on Veteran's Day and that the Shakers are one group known for their pacifism. To me, there was nothing wrong with that. Every soldier will agree that a little less war would be okay.
Before the service, my Pastor walked up to me and asked if I would read the Litany for Veterans, representing all the church veterans with my voice. I told him that I would be honored.
The service started and the thoughts began at the same time. My entire Veteran's Day experience always revolves around one particular incident. I only "knew" one soldier killed during the Gulf War. He was a quiet kid who had been in our school's ROTC program. So when it comes time to honor the fallen soldiers, I always think of him - even though I'm not sure I ever spoke a word to him in four years of High School. But I can't help but thinking of other sacrifices made during that war.
The incident occured near the end of the war, after the Marines and the Army had already pretty much taken back all of Kuwait and were driving on Baghdad. By that point, I had transfered away from my analyst job because we'd pretty much obliterated the Iraqi Navy already and was working with the Marines sending intel photos via an overglorified fax machine to the Third Marine Air Wing in Saudi Arabia. We got a dispatch from a marine recon unit that some Iraqi soldiers were setting up an anti-ship battery somewhere on the coast - with the intent of firing a missile at our carriers in the Gulf. The Marines spotted the battery with photo reconnaissance and determined the coordinates and had me fax the photo to the 3rd Marine Air Wing. In nearly real time, we "watched" as a Marine Harrier jet streaked in and blew the missile battery to bits - killing all three Iraqi soldiers instantly.
To my knowledge, its the only time I ever took part in the killing of other human beings. Boys, teenagers, like myself, who had maybe joined the Iraqi army to get enough money to go to college, or start a business, or raise a family; blown to bits. Dead. Finished. Gone. They would never again speak to their parents, or kiss their girlfriends, or pray, or laugh. They were simply gone. And I had had a part in their demise.
If Hell is the complete absense of God, then War is surely Hell.
And so, with these thoughts, I stood up to sing Simple Gift. The young teens began by playing a simple chord progression on the handbells, followed by a young lady on the viola, and then the choir began to sing.
"Its a gift to be simple, its a gift to be kind, its a gift to smile and to share a happy mind, its a gift from the Father, as we go on our way, with a joyful song at the end of the day."
The music, the voices, and then, the organ - subtly reinforcing all that had gone before - and all of a sudden I felt It. The Holy Spirit swirled around me and danced with the music and the young musicians and on top of the Choir's heads, and I suddenly couldn't contain the joy that was in my heart - the joy of God consuming me like fire.
From the depths of despair at an act of violence to the heights of joy at an act of worship, I ran the gamut on Veteran's Day. And when I read the Litany, my voice was not my own. My mind was on the families of the deceased, quietly mourning their loved ones who never returned, and on those still engaged in combat, who are even now fighting for their survival and being forced to kill in order to claim a dubious, human, victory.
We are called Veterans because we have been asked to sacrifice ourselves or our selves for the greater good. We do this willingly. And we bear the scars of our struggles.
In the end, its not such a simple gift after all.
Friday, November 09, 2007
Pop Quiz, Hot Shot - Round Two "Comics"
So, you think you did well on Star Wars trivia? Now you have to show your true geeky metal by answering these Trivia Questions from the comics (both Marvel and DC). I'll try to stick to the sort of general knowledge type questions (not the name of the Avengers butler, for instance ;)
1) Wolverine first appeared in which Marvel Comic?
a) X-Men
b) The Uncanny X-Men
c) The Incredible Hulk
d) Tales of the Strange
2) Superman was finally killed by which bad guy?
a) Juggernaut
b) Lex Luthor
c) Doomsday
d) Batman
3) The writers of Batman decided to kill Jason Todd because...
a) He was annoying
b) He was no Robin
c) The fans voted to have him killed
d) All of the above
4) Daredevil was outed by which character?
a) His reporter friend, Ben
b) His lawyer buddy, Foggy
c) Electra
d) His ex-girlfriend, Karen
5) After Superman died, which D.C. character went on a murderous rampage that left hundreds of characters dead and a city destroyed?
a) Batman
b) Green Lantern
c) Lobos
d) Martian Manhunter
6) Spiderman #1 was written and drawn by which famous comic book artist.
a) Stan Lee
b) Jack Kirby
c) Todd McFarlane
d) Jim Lee
7) Which one of these men has not played Batman in the movies?
a) Dick Grayson
b) George Clooney
c) Christian Bale
d) Val Kilmer
8) Where did the X-Men get their blackbird plane?
a) Government loan
b) Alien civilization
c) Time Travel
d) Magneto built it for them
9) Which one of these men has not played the Joker in the movies?
a) Cesar Romero
b) Jack Nicholson
c) Mark Hamill
d) Heath Ledger
e) None of the above
10) Which of these characters was not an original X-man?
a) Cyclops
b) Beast
c) Iceman
d) Storm
As usual, do your best and leave your answers below. The answers will be listed on Monday.
1) Wolverine first appeared in which Marvel Comic?
a) X-Men
b) The Uncanny X-Men
c) The Incredible Hulk
d) Tales of the Strange
2) Superman was finally killed by which bad guy?
a) Juggernaut
b) Lex Luthor
c) Doomsday
d) Batman
3) The writers of Batman decided to kill Jason Todd because...
a) He was annoying
b) He was no Robin
c) The fans voted to have him killed
d) All of the above
4) Daredevil was outed by which character?
a) His reporter friend, Ben
b) His lawyer buddy, Foggy
c) Electra
d) His ex-girlfriend, Karen
5) After Superman died, which D.C. character went on a murderous rampage that left hundreds of characters dead and a city destroyed?
a) Batman
b) Green Lantern
c) Lobos
d) Martian Manhunter
6) Spiderman #1 was written and drawn by which famous comic book artist.
a) Stan Lee
b) Jack Kirby
c) Todd McFarlane
d) Jim Lee
7) Which one of these men has not played Batman in the movies?
a) Dick Grayson
b) George Clooney
c) Christian Bale
d) Val Kilmer
8) Where did the X-Men get their blackbird plane?
a) Government loan
b) Alien civilization
c) Time Travel
d) Magneto built it for them
9) Which one of these men has not played the Joker in the movies?
a) Cesar Romero
b) Jack Nicholson
c) Mark Hamill
d) Heath Ledger
e) None of the above
10) Which of these characters was not an original X-man?
a) Cyclops
b) Beast
c) Iceman
d) Storm
As usual, do your best and leave your answers below. The answers will be listed on Monday.
Thursday, November 08, 2007
Climbing out of the valley
I had a day from Hell yesterday. I mean that literally. I was definitely walking through the dark valley, with no sunshine, and no chance of seeing the light at all. Thankfully, I was able to end the day without any major damage. But for a brief while there I was starting to sympathize with Job.
I finished writing really late Tuesday night. There was a chapter I just wanted to get done, and so I forced myself to finish it. But the problem with writing late is that I always need time to unwind afterwards. You get your brain working at a peak level of activity and it produces, but then you want to just shut it down cold as soon as you're done and it can't unstimulate so quickly. So I climbed into bed, physically exhausted but mentally doing gymnastics, and tossed and turned - my brain stimulating my body and vice versa. Then, to top it off, some mouse was burrowing in my walls to make a nest (it was rather cold) for the winter. It was well past 3am before I was finally able to convince the Extreme Nest Makeover unit to knock it off and I drifted off to sleep.
Four hours later, I woke up and dragged myself to work already despairing a long day of boring paperwork on little sleep. But shortly after I got here, I got a call from my accountant telling me that one of my credit cards had called to tell tales of unusual activity. I immediately called my credit card and we cancelled the card right away. Then, I spent an hour and a half changing my AOL password, before deciding to spend the rest of the day trying to eliminate a virus from my computer. All on four hour's sleep.
By the time I got home, I was ready to crash. But I forced myself to stay awake until 10pm, and then I just climbed back into my bed, pulled the warm covers over me, and slipped off into dreamy bliss.
Maybe its a thing you do as you get older - blaming God for your troubles. I used to read the Bible and wonder how these really righteous people could turn to God and ask, "My God, why have you forsaken me?" But now that I'm a little older, I start wondering when bad things happen - where is God out there? Why isn't He protecting me?
I know what the atheists would say, but they would be wrong. Instead, I turn to look at all the things that God did do for me yesterday.
I had a home to sleep in (and share with a nice but noisy mouse neighbor during the winter months). I had a car to drive and money to spend on gas (lots and lots of money). I had a job to go to that paid me money to spend on gas (less and less money). I had a computer to use that could get virused and software that allegedly prevented those viruses. I had a credit card that I could use to keep my gas guzzling car running. I had a family to return to and friends to read my blog. God has blessed me.
My God, my God, why hast thou been so good to me?
And then the sun shines through the clouds and illuminates even the darkest valleys.
I finished writing really late Tuesday night. There was a chapter I just wanted to get done, and so I forced myself to finish it. But the problem with writing late is that I always need time to unwind afterwards. You get your brain working at a peak level of activity and it produces, but then you want to just shut it down cold as soon as you're done and it can't unstimulate so quickly. So I climbed into bed, physically exhausted but mentally doing gymnastics, and tossed and turned - my brain stimulating my body and vice versa. Then, to top it off, some mouse was burrowing in my walls to make a nest (it was rather cold) for the winter. It was well past 3am before I was finally able to convince the Extreme Nest Makeover unit to knock it off and I drifted off to sleep.
Four hours later, I woke up and dragged myself to work already despairing a long day of boring paperwork on little sleep. But shortly after I got here, I got a call from my accountant telling me that one of my credit cards had called to tell tales of unusual activity. I immediately called my credit card and we cancelled the card right away. Then, I spent an hour and a half changing my AOL password, before deciding to spend the rest of the day trying to eliminate a virus from my computer. All on four hour's sleep.
By the time I got home, I was ready to crash. But I forced myself to stay awake until 10pm, and then I just climbed back into my bed, pulled the warm covers over me, and slipped off into dreamy bliss.
Maybe its a thing you do as you get older - blaming God for your troubles. I used to read the Bible and wonder how these really righteous people could turn to God and ask, "My God, why have you forsaken me?" But now that I'm a little older, I start wondering when bad things happen - where is God out there? Why isn't He protecting me?
I know what the atheists would say, but they would be wrong. Instead, I turn to look at all the things that God did do for me yesterday.
I had a home to sleep in (and share with a nice but noisy mouse neighbor during the winter months). I had a car to drive and money to spend on gas (lots and lots of money). I had a job to go to that paid me money to spend on gas (less and less money). I had a computer to use that could get virused and software that allegedly prevented those viruses. I had a credit card that I could use to keep my gas guzzling car running. I had a family to return to and friends to read my blog. God has blessed me.
My God, my God, why hast thou been so good to me?
And then the sun shines through the clouds and illuminates even the darkest valleys.
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
Failure
I hate to fail. Absolutely hate it. I'd rather have a root canal than fail at anything. Which, of course, is completely unrealistic since we all fall flat on our faces sometimes, but for me, its almost pathological how much I hate failure.
So, of course, I'm a writer. And now a film maker. Two potential careers rife with the possibility... no, promise of failure. I will fall again and again and again and will be sick to my stomach each time.
I don't care what anyone says about having to fail in order to succeed. I want to avoid that so much, I'll put off success if it means one more day without failure. But alas, I can't avoid it entirely.
Last week, I failed. Big time. Bombed entirely. Though I had managed to work at such a high level in my film classes up until that point, aceing every test, paper, and project that was due - my one failure was enough to put my entire film career in jeopardy. I came home, depressed, despondent, and utterly convinced that I would never amount to anything - let alone a film maker. It made me sick. I imagined all the other careers I might as well try, since I clearly was never cut out to ever be a film maker. But I knew that I'd fail at all those as well.
I guess I wasn't taking this failure very well.
At some point you begin to think irrational things and you rail at God. Why? Why am I such a failure at everything I do? Can't you just help me succeed at one thing? Where is the payoff for all this faith? Why can't I be successful?
I'm sure that He put His arm around me and let me rail some more, without ever letting me go off the deep end. The thing is that even while I was railing, and even while I was being bitter, and even while I was wallowing in my failure, I knew that I wasn't a failure. Part of me was detached - calm - telling me to just let it all out, to think all the negative things I wanted, and to be as irrational as I could, so that I could get the poison out of my system and get back to work.
By the weekend, I was back making films. Last night, I spent three hours mesmerized by the guy who did the sound work for Good Will Hunting (amongst other things) and realizing that I could already do his job now (by knowledge, not by skill!) And tonight I return to the scene of my utter failure, calmer, wiser and ultimately better prepared to succeed.
I may have to fail in order to go forward. But I don't ever have to like it.
So, of course, I'm a writer. And now a film maker. Two potential careers rife with the possibility... no, promise of failure. I will fall again and again and again and will be sick to my stomach each time.
I don't care what anyone says about having to fail in order to succeed. I want to avoid that so much, I'll put off success if it means one more day without failure. But alas, I can't avoid it entirely.
Last week, I failed. Big time. Bombed entirely. Though I had managed to work at such a high level in my film classes up until that point, aceing every test, paper, and project that was due - my one failure was enough to put my entire film career in jeopardy. I came home, depressed, despondent, and utterly convinced that I would never amount to anything - let alone a film maker. It made me sick. I imagined all the other careers I might as well try, since I clearly was never cut out to ever be a film maker. But I knew that I'd fail at all those as well.
I guess I wasn't taking this failure very well.
At some point you begin to think irrational things and you rail at God. Why? Why am I such a failure at everything I do? Can't you just help me succeed at one thing? Where is the payoff for all this faith? Why can't I be successful?
I'm sure that He put His arm around me and let me rail some more, without ever letting me go off the deep end. The thing is that even while I was railing, and even while I was being bitter, and even while I was wallowing in my failure, I knew that I wasn't a failure. Part of me was detached - calm - telling me to just let it all out, to think all the negative things I wanted, and to be as irrational as I could, so that I could get the poison out of my system and get back to work.
By the weekend, I was back making films. Last night, I spent three hours mesmerized by the guy who did the sound work for Good Will Hunting (amongst other things) and realizing that I could already do his job now (by knowledge, not by skill!) And tonight I return to the scene of my utter failure, calmer, wiser and ultimately better prepared to succeed.
I may have to fail in order to go forward. But I don't ever have to like it.
Friday, November 02, 2007
Answers
And so, here are the answers to my last post:
1) D) Darth Vader - young Anakin Skywalker eventually becomes Darth Vader, as seen in Episode 3.
2) C) Camino - The Cloner planet is named after a car. George Lucas is a big car guy. That's why you have the pod race in Episode 1.
3) B) The Death Star Plans - apparently it takes a long time to build a Death Star the first time.
4) C) To turn off the beacon - initially, Yoda and Obi-Wan return to Coruscant to turn off the Emergency Recall beacon set by Anakin to lure thousands of renegade Jedi to their deaths.
5) A) Nobody... unfortunately.
6) B) He dumped his cargo before being boarded (Even I get boarded once in a while!) Though knowing Han Solo, probably all of the above would also be a correct answer.
7) D) Porkins... "Porkins, pull up!" "I'm okay!" "Pull up!" "Aaaaarrrrgghhh!"
8) C) Hoth - Luke is just about to die of cold related stupidity when Obi-Wan finally figures out how to appear to young Luke from beyond the grave and tells him about Yoda.
9) B) Leia - At first, Luke tries to call Obi-wan for help, but his connection isn't good, so he instead instinctively turns to his unknown sister.
10) D) C3PO - Although, C3PO has no idea that he's pretending to be a god at the time, but when the son of the maker tells you to do something, you do it!
1) D) Darth Vader - young Anakin Skywalker eventually becomes Darth Vader, as seen in Episode 3.
2) C) Camino - The Cloner planet is named after a car. George Lucas is a big car guy. That's why you have the pod race in Episode 1.
3) B) The Death Star Plans - apparently it takes a long time to build a Death Star the first time.
4) C) To turn off the beacon - initially, Yoda and Obi-Wan return to Coruscant to turn off the Emergency Recall beacon set by Anakin to lure thousands of renegade Jedi to their deaths.
5) A) Nobody... unfortunately.
6) B) He dumped his cargo before being boarded (Even I get boarded once in a while!) Though knowing Han Solo, probably all of the above would also be a correct answer.
7) D) Porkins... "Porkins, pull up!" "I'm okay!" "Pull up!" "Aaaaarrrrgghhh!"
8) C) Hoth - Luke is just about to die of cold related stupidity when Obi-Wan finally figures out how to appear to young Luke from beyond the grave and tells him about Yoda.
9) B) Leia - At first, Luke tries to call Obi-wan for help, but his connection isn't good, so he instead instinctively turns to his unknown sister.
10) D) C3PO - Although, C3PO has no idea that he's pretending to be a god at the time, but when the son of the maker tells you to do something, you do it!
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