Im sitting in the transit tunnel, waiting on the light rail. Buses pass in both directions, people stepping on and off. Across the way stands a rather androgynous* individual whom I am going to assume to be a woman. And when I say standing, what I mean is dancing. It leads me to the question I often ask: why?
Perhaps she has been overtaken by boredom. Waiting for a bus can do that to you. Eventually you can't help but give in to the beat of your iPod, which in this case seems to be shuffling between salsa and Michael Jackson. Folk life festival is also this weekend, leading me to believe that drugs may be involved, though this judgment is both unfair and hasty on my part.
Or perhaps she just wanted to dance. What makes the light rail station an inappropriate place to dance? Just saying so doesn't make it true. Shedding the encumbrances of societal norms is beautiful.
There is a part of me that envies her: firstly she's a much better dancer than I am (though to be fair, most people are). But further, she's doing what she loves and not caring who sees. The closest I come is posting in my blog so that a few see**. I don't submit to magazines, the very core of what I should do.
I've been thinking a lot about this recently. I need to do something. That's where I am. Now the hard part: doing it.
One closing thought: I don't think dancing in public is really any stranger than some of the sketches and notes (and Dungeons ad Dragons battles) that are scribbled in my notebook.
*To be fair, said individual would be less androgynous at a shorter distance. However, the androgyny is clearly intentional, so the statement will stand.
**This is not to make light of those who do read. I appreciate you more than I could possibly ever express.
28 May 2011
25 May 2011
The Phantom of the Oprah
Now that 21 May has come and gone, the imminent rapture is no longer front page news*. We're finally able to move on to real news. Let's see - Middle East peace talks, 2012 presidential elections**...Oprah?
Indeed, Oprah Winfrey is a cultural phenomenon. She has had her own television show for 25 years, nearly my entire life, and has built a veritable media empire, from books to magazines to her own television network. While I have seen a few episodes of her show, I've never been an Oprah fan. Her last show airs (I think) today, which makes me wonder, "How did she do it?"
Indeed, part of Oprah's appeal is that, as an African-American woman, she identifies with (and, more importantly, is identified with by) large swaths of the population who feel oppressed, whether this feeling is justifiable or imagined entirely. This in itself is a large group. Furthermore, Oprah has been known throughout her career for philanthropy, whether this be opening schools for girls in Africa or giving everyone in her audience a new car. One can’t help asking whom Oprah will help next.
Oprah has an extraordinary capacity for using her popularity to create more popularity: she realized, by way of example, that people would read whatever she told them to read. Soon everyone is itching to read Oprah’s next book club selection. While I’m a fan of anything that gets people reading Steinbeck (my favorite author), Oprah never actually established herself as an authority in the book market. It happened with no justifiable cause.
But one thing more than any other that stands out about Oprah and has drawn a lot of people in is best summed up in her own words to her viewers:
Oprah will absolutely tell you about her own struggles: her difficult childhood, her weight issues, her love life – everyone knows Oprah’s business. Oprah has appeared jubilant as well as despondent. Thanks to James Frey, we even got to see angry Oprah (You lied to Oprah!). Everyone knows Oprah. And because Oprah is so open to her viewers, they can return the favor by being open with her, airing out their issues to the television, knowing that if Oprah were in the room she’d be listening and crying along with you.
Like I said, I’m not a fan. As a Christian, Oprah and I disagree on absolutely core issues. That being said, I have the utmost respect for Oprah. She’s something much larger than a talk show host: she’s an institution. Yet to people all around the world who tune in every day, Oprah is something much smaller than an institution: she’s a friend.
*The rapture is of course only a few pages back, as Camping has changed his predicted date to 21 October, my birthday. If Jesus could take away Family Radio, that would be the best birthday present ever.
**Senator Ryan, in or out? Seriously. Your Meet the Press dodging is annoying.
Indeed, Oprah Winfrey is a cultural phenomenon. She has had her own television show for 25 years, nearly my entire life, and has built a veritable media empire, from books to magazines to her own television network. While I have seen a few episodes of her show, I've never been an Oprah fan. Her last show airs (I think) today, which makes me wonder, "How did she do it?"
Indeed, part of Oprah's appeal is that, as an African-American woman, she identifies with (and, more importantly, is identified with by) large swaths of the population who feel oppressed, whether this feeling is justifiable or imagined entirely. This in itself is a large group. Furthermore, Oprah has been known throughout her career for philanthropy, whether this be opening schools for girls in Africa or giving everyone in her audience a new car. One can’t help asking whom Oprah will help next.
Oprah has an extraordinary capacity for using her popularity to create more popularity: she realized, by way of example, that people would read whatever she told them to read. Soon everyone is itching to read Oprah’s next book club selection. While I’m a fan of anything that gets people reading Steinbeck (my favorite author), Oprah never actually established herself as an authority in the book market. It happened with no justifiable cause.
But one thing more than any other that stands out about Oprah and has drawn a lot of people in is best summed up in her own words to her viewers:
My relationship with you [her viewers] is one that I hold very dear.Excuse me? Relationship? With your viewers? Wow. Who else can say that? To Oprah’s allegiant, she is the neighbor who never gossips, no matter how juicy the secret.
Oprah will absolutely tell you about her own struggles: her difficult childhood, her weight issues, her love life – everyone knows Oprah’s business. Oprah has appeared jubilant as well as despondent. Thanks to James Frey, we even got to see angry Oprah (You lied to Oprah!). Everyone knows Oprah. And because Oprah is so open to her viewers, they can return the favor by being open with her, airing out their issues to the television, knowing that if Oprah were in the room she’d be listening and crying along with you.
Like I said, I’m not a fan. As a Christian, Oprah and I disagree on absolutely core issues. That being said, I have the utmost respect for Oprah. She’s something much larger than a talk show host: she’s an institution. Yet to people all around the world who tune in every day, Oprah is something much smaller than an institution: she’s a friend.
*The rapture is of course only a few pages back, as Camping has changed his predicted date to 21 October, my birthday. If Jesus could take away Family Radio, that would be the best birthday present ever.
**Senator Ryan, in or out? Seriously. Your Meet the Press dodging is annoying.
20 May 2011
Death of a Hero
Given a long enough timeline, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero. While my friend Tyler has said this on several occasions, it never really sank in until today. Today, when I found out that Macho Man Randy Savage had died.
He was possibly the greatest professional wrestler who ever lived. Andre the Giant was a greater physical spectacle; the Ultimate Warrior was better at working a crowd; Hulk Hogan was better known to the world at large. But for the total package, you really can't beat the Macho Man.
Growing up I think I liked him more than I knew. This could be because he resembles my uncle who was another hero when I was very young*, though maybe not. Whatever the case, I wanted to be a pro wrestler so I could form a tag team with him. Don't blame me - I was young. I didn't even care whether he was a "good guy" or a "bad guy": I was ready to redefine these terms because Randy Savage was THE good guy.
Whether delivering an elbow from the top rope, interrupting Mean Gene during an interview, or snapping into a Slim Jim, the world will miss the Macho Man Randy Savage. Oooh yeah!
*Sadly, both my uncle and Savage died in their fifties as a result of heart attacks. I guess three of my earliest heroes died of heart attacks. Yikes.
He was possibly the greatest professional wrestler who ever lived. Andre the Giant was a greater physical spectacle; the Ultimate Warrior was better at working a crowd; Hulk Hogan was better known to the world at large. But for the total package, you really can't beat the Macho Man.
Growing up I think I liked him more than I knew. This could be because he resembles my uncle who was another hero when I was very young*, though maybe not. Whatever the case, I wanted to be a pro wrestler so I could form a tag team with him. Don't blame me - I was young. I didn't even care whether he was a "good guy" or a "bad guy": I was ready to redefine these terms because Randy Savage was THE good guy.
Whether delivering an elbow from the top rope, interrupting Mean Gene during an interview, or snapping into a Slim Jim, the world will miss the Macho Man Randy Savage. Oooh yeah!
*Sadly, both my uncle and Savage died in their fifties as a result of heart attacks. I guess three of my earliest heroes died of heart attacks. Yikes.
17 May 2011
Time and Updates
Last week I said five* updates. Later I redacted this to three. Three happened. Five did not.
When I said five, I was thinking that for three days I would be sitting in the room where the jurors sit while waiting to be selected. Instead I was placed on a jury at the end of the first day. Suddenly eighteen hours of reading and writing time disappeared.
Each week** I have 168 hours. I have a lot of things to accomplish in those 168 hours. Last week writing did not make the cut often enough. I will blame this mostly on the fact that both of my days off work were spent in jury duty, but will also apologize.
This week I am once again going to shoot for three updates. God has been bringing me into a season of artistic fruitfulness as an act of worship, so hopefully one manifestation of that will be more frequent updates.
Unfortunately the down side is that my most artistic seasons are usually peppered with bouts of depression, ending I'm a larger depression struggle. I would very much covet your prayers in this.
Note to self (and others): God created. When I do so, it's an act of worshipping him. This must be my focus. Everything else is vanity. Thus says Qoheleth. Seriously. Check your footnotes***.
*I accidentally wrote "fire" instead of "five." Fire updates would be awesome.
**We are going to in this instance disregard time change week, which contains 167 or 169 hours.
***Not these footnotes - the footnotes in your bible. Ecclesiastes 1:1
15 May 2011
Not Well
Yesterday I made some poor food decisions, chief among these being not eating enough. Further, a large portion of what I did eat was junk. Last night I tossed and turned, having a series of strange dreams. I woke up at 4:30 feeling horrible and went back to sleep.
When my alarm went off at 6:15 I considered trying to find someone to cover my shift at work. No, I can work: I'm tough; I'm a man.
I start boiling water to make tea and go to the bathroom. I'm feeling a bit lightheaded, and everything is a bit blurry. Suddenly my stomach starts hurting and cramping as a wave of heat covers me.
Blood sugar!
I eat a granola bar as quickly as possible for a quick burst. I eat a bowl of Kashi Crunch, which is high in protein, fiber, and complex carbohydrates. I dress for work and get my butt over there.
Smoothie. Nonfat milk. Burrito. I can keep myself sustained for about an hour, but working is making it difficult to get everything balanced out. Fortunately it's a slow day, so I leave early, 1:15.
Come home. Eat. Drink orange juice and lots of water. Back to bed.
At 6:02 I wake up and ask my roommate a strange question: AM or PM? PM. Excellent.
My blood sugar is much higher, but now I have a migraine. Excedrin. Water. Head on the counter. Eventually it fades. Any pill that contains aspirin, acetaminophen, and caffeine is a miracle drug.
As I write this, I'm feeling the best I have all day, which is still not well. I guess the lesson in all this is pretty simple: take care of yourself.
11 May 2011
Voir Dire, II: Defending the Guilty
::Note: At the end of the trial the judge released us to talk about specific events that occurred during the trial. As such this post is acceptable. I just wasn't allowed to discuss the case during the trial.::
Don't steal. It's one of the Ten Commandments. Seriously, don't do it. That being said, if you're going to steal, don't do so right in front of a video camera.
The attorney was objecting to everything. She repeatedly made nigh trivial points and split hairs in an attempt to undermine witness credibility. She had seen the video. She knew he was guilty.
How does one rectify that mentally? How do you create that disconnect between what you know to be true and what you have to do? I realize that ultimately she wasn't trying to prove his innocence, but only to create a whole in the prosecution's case. Even still, I don't understand.
At the same time, isn't that how each of us behaves every day? Whatever your value system, you almost assuredly have some right/wrong paradigm. Unless you are Charlie Sheen-level "winning," you at some point do something that you have to place into the "wrong" column. After all, you're only human. No one is perfect. We all act outside of accordance with our beliefs sometimes. Except, of course, for Jesus, which is exactly what made him the perfect sacrifice for us.
Don't steal. It's one of the Ten Commandments. Seriously, don't do it. That being said, if you're going to steal, don't do so right in front of a video camera.
The attorney was objecting to everything. She repeatedly made nigh trivial points and split hairs in an attempt to undermine witness credibility. She had seen the video. She knew he was guilty.
How does one rectify that mentally? How do you create that disconnect between what you know to be true and what you have to do? I realize that ultimately she wasn't trying to prove his innocence, but only to create a whole in the prosecution's case. Even still, I don't understand.
At the same time, isn't that how each of us behaves every day? Whatever your value system, you almost assuredly have some right/wrong paradigm. Unless you are Charlie Sheen-level "winning," you at some point do something that you have to place into the "wrong" column. After all, you're only human. No one is perfect. We all act outside of accordance with our beliefs sometimes. Except, of course, for Jesus, which is exactly what made him the perfect sacrifice for us.
10 May 2011
Voir Dire, I: The Man in the Window
::Note: Voir Dire is a latin term meaning "to tell the truth." It is used in the court setting. As such, I am going to write a series of entries based around jury duty, all falling under the heading of Voir Dire. Also, since I have so much sitting around time, I'm going to try to increase my update schedule for this week from two to five. Whoa! Oh, and they have three computers we can use. This post was the first time I've typed on a computer in a long time. Very different than an iPod Touch.::
Being summoned for a jury is strange: I come in, not knowing what to expect, along with about fifty others who are in the same situation. We all sit here in a big room, and no one talks. Most of us read. A few have computers. One gentleman has been staring out the window for four hours. He makes me wonder.
Perhaps he's bored. He hates reading, and they won't let us go out and wander. There's nothing active to do. Instead, he just sits and stares out the window.
Or perhaps he read my previous post: he is boring indeed, so he sits at the woindow. He watches ships come and go, thinking about all the wonderful things they could be loading and unloading as they dock, not to mention the myriadical stories of the people aboard the cruise ships. People like ants scurry about their daily business, twelve stroies beneath us. Smoke billows from factories on the left, while buildings seem to stretch all the way to Heaven to the right. And he can't take it all in, not even more a moment.
But all of these thoughts leave me asking a much simpler question to which I'll probably never know the answer: what did this man eat on his lunch break, as he sat staring out the window?
Being summoned for a jury is strange: I come in, not knowing what to expect, along with about fifty others who are in the same situation. We all sit here in a big room, and no one talks. Most of us read. A few have computers. One gentleman has been staring out the window for four hours. He makes me wonder.
Perhaps he's bored. He hates reading, and they won't let us go out and wander. There's nothing active to do. Instead, he just sits and stares out the window.
Or perhaps he read my previous post: he is boring indeed, so he sits at the woindow. He watches ships come and go, thinking about all the wonderful things they could be loading and unloading as they dock, not to mention the myriadical stories of the people aboard the cruise ships. People like ants scurry about their daily business, twelve stroies beneath us. Smoke billows from factories on the left, while buildings seem to stretch all the way to Heaven to the right. And he can't take it all in, not even more a moment.
But all of these thoughts leave me asking a much simpler question to which I'll probably never know the answer: what did this man eat on his lunch break, as he sat staring out the window?
07 May 2011
On Being Boring
I have a book called The Pocket Muse. It is a book of writing ideas, story starters, and the like. I highly recommend it to writers and other creative types. Occasionally it contains simple advice. I just flipped open to, "You have to be willing to write badly." I wish they meant penmanship, but such is not the case. Now while I do a lot of low-quality writing, I do have a related fear: being boring.
In one of the essays in Heretics, the great G.K. Chesterton discusses those of us who are boring ("bores") versus the bored. Mr. Chesterton makes a very interesting point: the bores are generally not actually boring at all, but instead embrace a very special beauty that is often overlooked. You have to slow down and take it in.
When was the last time you drank an entire pot of tea, smoked a pipe, listened to a symphony (which if you are going to do recorded, I certainly hope you would so on vinyl), or literally stopped to smell the roses? For too many of us, we overlook the simple things and shun the process. Why plant a seed and take the time to care for it when you can simply go to the store and buy a tomato?
I used to be bored most of the time. Then I started to really take in and appreciate the small things and the beauty which God has placed all around me every day. Now what used to bore me is almost overwhelming.
So here's your homework: stop. Yes, that's it: stop. Think about your life and all the beauty of creation, even just for 5 minutes. Just stop and try to take it all in. Before you speak. Before you do. And before you don't.
In one of the essays in Heretics, the great G.K. Chesterton discusses those of us who are boring ("bores") versus the bored. Mr. Chesterton makes a very interesting point: the bores are generally not actually boring at all, but instead embrace a very special beauty that is often overlooked. You have to slow down and take it in.
When was the last time you drank an entire pot of tea, smoked a pipe, listened to a symphony (which if you are going to do recorded, I certainly hope you would so on vinyl), or literally stopped to smell the roses? For too many of us, we overlook the simple things and shun the process. Why plant a seed and take the time to care for it when you can simply go to the store and buy a tomato?
I used to be bored most of the time. Then I started to really take in and appreciate the small things and the beauty which God has placed all around me every day. Now what used to bore me is almost overwhelming.
So here's your homework: stop. Yes, that's it: stop. Think about your life and all the beauty of creation, even just for 5 minutes. Just stop and try to take it all in. Before you speak. Before you do. And before you don't.
06 May 2011
Letters
If the alphabet wants to dance in the moonlight,
who am I to
stop them?
They tend to stumble home
from a late night at the
Print Shop,
heavily inƚoxiɔɒƚɘb
and throw magazines
at my head.
They yell things
that I could never
spell
because they're all too drunk
to be written,
an I follow suit with my
rebuttal.
Finally the altercation
turns physical,
as I grab them
by the serifs
and press then
one by one
onto a white sheet,
locking them up
behind the bars
of blue.
(writing has been really frustrating the past few days)
who am I to
stop them?
They tend to stumble home
from a late night at the
Print Shop,
heavily inƚoxiɔɒƚɘb
and throw magazines
at my head.
They yell things
that I could never
spell
because they're all too drunk
to be written,
an I follow suit with my
rebuttal.
Finally the altercation
turns physical,
as I grab them
by the serifs
and press then
one by one
onto a white sheet,
locking them up
behind the bars
of blue.
(writing has been really frustrating the past few days)
01 May 2011
Thank you, Al Gore.
|Authors Note: This is more a collection of random thoughts than an actual entry. Very raw and not necessarily cohesive. I'm sorry, and you're welcome.|
Last night I discovered the internet(1). It turns out to be a vast and glorious place, packed with useful information. It was 1998 all over again, only not on a 14.4.
Obviously, I knew it was there. After all, I have a blog. For those of you who are slow, that's what you're reading right now. And there are a few select websites that I use quite frequently: Facebook, Wikipedia, Google, Amazon. But last night was all new.
First things first. My roommate was talking to my sister on Skype. I had never used Skype. Last night I used it to talk to my sister. They laughed at me as I asked questions like, "The video is locked up. Can she still hear me?"
Also, did you know that dogs don't respond to anything on Skype? Crazy stuff. I'm calling my sister's dog (who loves me), and he is completely ignoring me. In the immortal words of Michelle Tanner, "How rude!"
Secondly, I was looking through the podcast directory on my iPod Touch for a John Piper sermon when I saw a category for news. I used to watch the news online when I had a computer, but that required Flash. I can download the news!
I forgot how sentimental news can be. That is to say, it was great watching it, and it was strange that Tom Brokaw wasn't anchoring NBC Nightly News. This is also to say that there was entirely too much focus on human interest pieces yesterday. Just give me the news.
Yesterday was a big day for me and the internet. Thirteen years ago she consumed all of my free time. Here I am now, rediscovering her existence.
(1) I had a teacher in high school, a proud graduate of WVU, who would always talk about the inner-nat. It was hilarious. Perhaps you had to be there.
Last night I discovered the internet(1). It turns out to be a vast and glorious place, packed with useful information. It was 1998 all over again, only not on a 14.4.
Obviously, I knew it was there. After all, I have a blog. For those of you who are slow, that's what you're reading right now. And there are a few select websites that I use quite frequently: Facebook, Wikipedia, Google, Amazon. But last night was all new.
First things first. My roommate was talking to my sister on Skype. I had never used Skype. Last night I used it to talk to my sister. They laughed at me as I asked questions like, "The video is locked up. Can she still hear me?"
Also, did you know that dogs don't respond to anything on Skype? Crazy stuff. I'm calling my sister's dog (who loves me), and he is completely ignoring me. In the immortal words of Michelle Tanner, "How rude!"
Secondly, I was looking through the podcast directory on my iPod Touch for a John Piper sermon when I saw a category for news. I used to watch the news online when I had a computer, but that required Flash. I can download the news!
I forgot how sentimental news can be. That is to say, it was great watching it, and it was strange that Tom Brokaw wasn't anchoring NBC Nightly News. This is also to say that there was entirely too much focus on human interest pieces yesterday. Just give me the news.
Yesterday was a big day for me and the internet. Thirteen years ago she consumed all of my free time. Here I am now, rediscovering her existence.
(1) I had a teacher in high school, a proud graduate of WVU, who would always talk about the inner-nat. It was hilarious. Perhaps you had to be there.
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