my white plume

Diet & Fitness Books of the Bible

2010-04-02T23:26:00.002-04:00

http://www.mcsweeneys.net/links/lists/1hughes.html

DIET & FITNESS BOOKS OF THE BIBLE.

BY LAURENCE HUGHES

- - - -

Cross Training

Pontius Pilates

Low-Impact Ecclesiastes

Antiochcidents

Psweatin' to the Psalms

The All-You-Can-Eat Loaves-and-Fishes Diet

The AbsSolution

Power Walking on Water

Good Fat, Bad Fat, Jehoshaphat

The Flat Belly of the Whale Diet

Fit for Life Everlasting

Pillar-of-Salt-Free Cooking

YOU on a Diet of Worms

Take and Eat This, Not That

The Resurrection Regimen: Three Days to a Transmogrified You

standing on the precipice of what remains of my life

2010-03-31T22:17:00.004-04:00

So obviously the great Lenten experiment was a bust. Ran out of energy/gumption/anything significant to write about at the end. But the attempt was there and at least I wrote something, which is more than I had been doing before Lent.

A fellow traveler posted something that rang true for me. I, too, haven't really "felt" much this Lenten season. No ecstatic highs. No epiphanies. No overwhelming sense of God's presence. And as faithful readers can attest, I had more than my share of lows this season - lower than I've been in quite a while. I don't believe the two are related (Lent and my bouts with depression), though I do wonder if my writing did at least bring some of what I experienced to the fore. Still not sure that was a good thing - still feeling the effects of it. Was a complete ass this afternoon during our staff social. Lack of sleep is definitely not helping much, either. Too awake when it's time to go to bed last couple of nights - was up until 1AM both nights, back up at 5AM. Not nearly enough sleep. Here's hoping I can get some over break. Sleep, that is.

'Twas a good weekend (I know, it was forever ago, right?). Good to see everyone and to remember Jeremy. Not that that doesn't happen normally, but you know how it is. Still hard to believe he's gone. Still hard to believe that the grass hasn't grown in front of his grave yet. :) While we were standing around, sharing memories and scaring off other visitors, I began to look around at the other headstones around Jeremy's. Names, dates, each one a story. I wonder about Walter and Raymond and their shared headstone and the 21-year difference in their ages. How did they find each other? What was their story? Or Earnest and Linda, who got married when when he was 42 and she was 25. Standing there I couldn't help but find hope in those stories I don't know, that maybe life isn't completely over once tomorrow comes.

Other unknown stories - a man with two young children came to a newly dug grave - not even a headstone yet. They didn't stay long, but I couldn't help wondering if they were their to visit their wife and mom. It just felt like that. Reminded me everyone deals with pain - too often we get caught up in our own stories and forget to look around and see we're all dealing with loss, we're all clinging to those closest to us to help us get through. There's a poem I often read to my classes that sums it up pretty well:

Tuesday 9:00 AM

Denver Butson

A man standing at the bus stop
reading the newspaper is on fire
Flames are peeking out
from beneath his collar and cuffs
His shoes have begun to melt

The woman next to him
wants to mention it to him
that he is burning
but she is drowning
Water is everywhere
in her mouth and ears
in her eyes
A stream of water runs
steadily from her blouse

Another woman stands at the bus stop
freezing to death
She tries to stand near the man
who is on fire
to try to melt the icicles
that have formed on her eyelashes
and on her nostrils
to stop her teeth long enough
from chattering to say something
to the woman who is drowning
but the woman who is freezing to death
has trouble moving
with blocks of ice on her feet
It takes the three some time
to board the bus
what with the flames
and water and ice
But when they finally climb the stairs
and take their seats
the driver doesn't even notice
that none of them has paid
because he is tortured
by visions and is wondering
if the man who got off at the last stop
was really being mauled to death
by wild dogs.

One of my favorites.

Part of me wants to throw caution to the wind and stay up all night watching movies, trying to squeeze as much celebration as I can into tomorrow. I mean, it's not like I have to do anything once school ends, right? Although if I stay up all night tonight, I'll collapse in the middle of the Poms show tomorrow before I can get to Dewey's for my free pint glass and Graeters for my free scoop of ice cream (strawberry chip is back tomorrow!). I don't know. Of course, I'll probably be up anyway so I might as well do something. The question is, what should I watch? 40-Year-Old Virgin is a little too on the nose. Maybe a little High Fidelity. Watched that ten years ago when I turned 30. Though it might depress me just how little my life has actually changed since then...

Think I'll save talking about Sunday's Maproom until later. Our Journey to the Cross was a rough one for me. And it all started with this simple question: If you knew this was the last week of your life, how would you spend it? I'll share my thoughts for...well, probably Friday because I'll be too busy celebrating tomorrow to come here and type. Or maybe I won't be. We'll see.

See, after 11:00 and I'm not tired in the least. Not a good sign. One more hour until my birth-day (though technically I wasn't born until after 10:00 PM, so I don't turn 40 for another 23 hours). Goodbye 30s. Here's hoping my 40s are better than I can imagine right now...

write...now

2010-03-26T19:12:00.002-04:00

Bad sign: not here because I have anything to share. Only here out of obligation and wanted to knock this out before spending the evening in my comfy chair catching up on TV and, if the spirit moves, watching some basketball.

You've been warned.

Final full day of classes today before spring break. Not that we're there yet - still four more days to go. But next week is whack: Black History Month speaker on Monday means I only see half my students and have 4+ hours (7:15 - 11:43) before I teach my first class (to clarify, Mason is aware Black History Month is in February, but we had a snow day when the speaker was originally planned and I have such an open time because I have first bell plan, which is when the speaker is planned); Tuesday is a "make-up" day for the speaker on Monday, which means I don't get a plan bell but do get to teach extended-remix classes for my first two bells to make up for not seeing them on Monday; Wednesday, which I nearly took as a personal day since I can't take off my birthday because it falls the day before a break, is our usual shortened primetime day; and Thursday, the day before break, we have a shortened schedule for an afternoon pep assembly (which, unfortunately, was not planned to celebrate my birthday. Oh well). All that is far more information than anyone needs about my coming week, but I thought I'd let you in on the craziness. Turns out doing a unit focused mostly on students being self-directed was a brilliant move on my part. Can't imagine trying to teach a "typical" lesson next week.

Because I am wonderfully blessed with four hours on Monday, I left all my grading at school and will tackle it on Monday. If I'm feeling up to it, I might try to grade the wiki discussions on Sunday night, but we'll see how I feel after the weekend.

This weekend is Jeremy's wake up in Mansfield/Bucyrus. Looking forward to seeing friends and remembering Jeremy (or is that Jerry?). Not looking forward to the 6+ hours in the car. Still hard to believe most days that he's gone. Just feels like he's moved away and I don't get to see him as often as I used to. Of course, going to the grave site kind of brings it all home. I do enjoy the fact that every time I've gone to the site, it's been mostly filled with laughter, which is what I think Jeremy would have wanted. Not sure how that goes over with the other visitors, but then, that fits Jeremy, too.

Lethargy is settling in - too much Jalapenos, not enough sleep. Time to excuse myself from my office and get comfortable in my comfy chair. On the playlist tonight: FlashForward (yes, I'm still watching), Important Things with Demitri Martin, Spartacus and, if I'm up to it, the first disc of the first season of The Wire. Never seen it. Afraid I might acquire a new addiction - just in time for spring break.

Not sure I'll get here tomorrow - leaving at 9AM and won't return sometime after midnight. We'll see how wired I am from the drive. In the mean time, do me a favor: find a friend you haven't talked to in a while and send them a message telling them how much they mean to you. Life's too short and people connect too rarely to let friendships die. Æ

tie-errrrd

2010-03-25T22:33:00.003-04:00

I am so going to get sick. Three hours dance rehearsal, sweating like a stuck pig, only to walk out into the nearly freezing rain. Hot cold, hot cold. Bleah. And I can already feel a lack of sleep coming on. Too wired to sleep, too tired to do much else. Lovely.

You know, I spend far too much time talking about myself on this blog, never taking a moment to ask you, my reader, how you're doing. So how are you? Life been treating you well? Seems like a lot of people's worlds came to an end this week - lots of skies falling, lots of praying for Jesus to return, lots of websearches on moving to other countries. Trust me, I've been there. For about eight years. You eventually get used to it.

My friend Brad, who teaches down in Florida, sent me a vision of my eventual future this week. Seems the powers that be, in an attempt to "improve" schools, have decided the problem lies with the teachers. Our schools would be successful if it wasn't for those selfish, lazy, overpaid know-it-alls clogging up the works. So they're in the process of passing a bill to solve the problem. The magic bullet? More testing, of course, paid for by the taxpayers and the school districts to fill the bottomless coffers of the test designers. There's a special interest group no one ever talks about but which wields incredible power in government. Below are some of the provisions, along with the commentary I sent along with it in italics.

The Florida Senate is right now working on a bill - SB 6 - that will seriously affect educators in the state of Florida. Here's what it will do if passed:

1. Takes 5% of all operating funds from each school district (estimated to be in the $900-$950 million dollar range) to be used to develop the tests which will be used to measure student learning gains and then to pay any performance pay benefits required by the bill. In essence, all teachers are paying for the cost of the test development and performance awards which may become due under this bill.

Yes, once again, testing companies have sold lawmakers a bill of goods, claiming they are the only way for true education reform. Because how do we know students are learning unless they can fill in bubbles and pass a test? To steal money from school districts to develop these tests is downright criminal. But you know, corporations now have more rights than citizens. Shows where our priorities are.

2. Places all new teachers on annual contracts for the duration of their teaching careers and the contracts may be non-renewed for any reason or no reason without recourse.

I know why they want this - too much "dead weight" according to them. But why can't they take care of the problem without punishing all teachers? Nothing like working with no job security and nothing to protect teachers from being wrongfully dismissed or pushed out (which happens more often than you think).

3. Requires 50% of performance appraisals to be based on student learning gains based upon end of course tests which don't yet exist.

Unfortunately, this is the next wave of reform and I'm convinced the majority of the country will move to these end of course tests in the next five years. Mason has already started giving them. They claim it's to track students' progress, but we all know eventually it will be tied to our reviews. They also claim it will only be used to reward good teaching (think bonus), but I doubt it stays that way. The good news is, judging from our experience, the tests are way simple, which is usually how standardized tests work - they shoot for the lowest common denominator, which, judging from the test, is pretty low. Which is probably good because they'll have a lowest common denominator work force to teach to the test.

4. Removes local decision-making by elected school boards or through collective bargaining on matters which relate to wages, hours andterms and conditions of employment.

Yes, by all means, let's take this out of local hands, who might actually have an understanding of their district's population and its needs, and give it to ...who? State officials? Some new bureaucracy? Brilliant.

5. Prohibits recognition of years of service or advanced degrees in determining teacher salaries.

I...have no idea what to say. How would this help? What problem would this solve? How is experience and education a bad thing, especially in education? Oh right, we want to base teacher salaries on how their students do. So are we going to do that for all professions? If a doctor's patients don't stay healthy, will we dock their pay? If a politicians constituency continues to break the law, could we demand they return their paychecks? Just checking.

6. Permits non-renewal of a teaching certificate if a teacher cannot demonstrate student learning gains in 4 of the preceding 5 years.

Again, we're back to tests being the "magic cure" for all of education's ills. Gotta hand it to the testing companies - they learned well from their teachers how to manipulate the system through propaganda. This is the problem when decisions like this are made by politicians who have only tangential connection to education and not by educators themselves. Frustrating. Wish they'd listen to educators, those actually, you know, teaching. I don't have solutions to all the problems, but I know bad solutions when I see them.

Look, I realize schools aren't perfect and there are teachers who need to find their true passion in life instead of drawing a paycheck and screwing up students. But denigrating the entire profession because of a few bad apples is demeaning and ultimately going to harm the ones reformers claim they want to help the most: the students.

OK, that took much longer than I anticipated. Hopefully I didn't put you to sleep. Unfortunately, it didn't put me to sleep, either. I think there might be a basketball game on or something. Maybe that will do it. Night.

what's done is done

2010-03-24T21:05:00.003-04:00

No beating myself up over missing the last few days. I know, I know, you're thinking, "Wait. Is this some impostor pretending to be Thurman. 'Cause he feels guilty like Kevin Smith tweets." Don't let this aberration throw you.Trust me, it's me.

Been an interesting week. And by interesting, I don't mean "Oh God, oh God, we're all going to die." OK, maybe not interesting. Odd? Does that work? Of course, my life is pretty odd anyway, so that doesn't help much. Ah, I've lost my adjectives. Screw it.

Been swimming through a sea of nostalgia this week. About a year ago, I gave my friend Steve all my old vinyl albums to rip into mp3s. They were sitting in my basement doing no one any good, but I couldn't just part with them. So he said he would rip them for me when he got the chance. Well, between foreign exchange students and adopting a son, he's been a bit busy. But on Monday he messaged me and told me he'd found a site I might want to check out: http://flipsidemn.blogspot.com/ So I did. And I was immediately transported to a time when I wore sleeveless shirts and headbands with no sense of irony.

I know this may be hard to believe, but I have not always been the indie musical elitist you see before you now. Back in junior high, I had a whole other obsession: Christian Rock. That's right boys and girls, I used to tow the line, refusing to purchase any music that didn't come from a Christian bookstore or wasn't featured in Campus Life magazine. In my defense, I stayed clear of bands that might be heard on what passed for Christan radio at the time. No Amy Grant. No Michael W. Smith. No Russ Taff. No, I stayed to the fringes of Christian music, which is why when I got older and moved from vinyl and tapes to CDs, I lost a lot of that music. Not like there was a lot of money to be made selling CDs by the obscure artists I liked.

But now, through this site, I've reliving my junior high days (ok, and some high school). Barnabas. Daniel Band. Undercover. Mad at the World. Messiah Prophet. Flock 14. The adult part of me wants to pick it apart, cringe at the derivativenes, mock the trite lyrics and bad theology. But the junior high me has been living it up all week. So strange to hear music I haven't heard for over 20 years. Scares me how many of the lyrics I still know by heart. I can't wait to get the batch my friend Steve has downloaded for me. Reminds me of a more innocent time, a time when the world wasn't quite so complicated and faith was as easy as yelling "God Rules!" at a concert.

Sometimes I wish it was still that easy.

The other event causing nostalgia overdosing this week is the loss of my favorite radio station - WOXY. I discovered WOXY about the time I realized listening to secular music wasn't going to send me to hell. Back then it was an over the air station from Oxford that barely reached Dayton. I was lucky if I got to listen to a whole song without static breaking in, especially if I was in my car. Even today, when I hear some of those songs I first experienced through WOXY, I half expect a burst of static to drown out the chorus. The music they played not only shaped my musical tastes during college, but in many ways sharpened my critical ear and broadened my horizons. I wouldn't be the person I am today without WOXY.

Now there's hope it will rise again - it's done so before, transforming into an internet only station. But until then, I will mourn the passing of such an important part of my life.

I have nothing else I want to share, so I think I'm going to try and go to bed early tonight, though last time I did that, I woke up in the middle of the night. I think my days of sleeping for more than six hours at a time are in the past. Guess the only thing left is to get my AARP card and start eating at Golden Corral at 4:30 in the afternoon.

Only one more week in my 30s. *sigh*

not nearly long enough

2010-03-20T22:51:00.003-04:00

There's the blank space here, waiting for me to type in, but as I stare at it, I can't think of anything important enough to share from my day today. Woke up late (well, for me, anyway). Watched some TV/DVR/Netflix stream. Went to Jalapenos. Used up my month's worth of shopping energy looking for a new TV. Took a nap. Helped celebrate Mac's birthday. Came home. Stared at the blank space until I started typing just a minute or so ago.

Really. Not much there.

I could talk about the miserableness of shopping - the overbearing sales assistants who try to convince you if you don't buy this TV right now you will regret it for the rest of your life because this amazing sale ends tonight and prices like this won't be seen again ever (at least, not until their next sale). But I'd rather not relive the experience.

Mac's last minute birthday celebration was great - went to McCormick and Schmicks and ate seafood for the first time probably this millennium. Had salmon which I liked. Didn't convert me to a seafood lover, but was very tasty. Tried some wine, too, which I still don't like. And since this was good wine, I think that confirms the fact that I'll probably never like wine. We were there about four hours - lots of great conversation and food.

Of course, I kept being asked what I was doing to celebrate my not dying for another year in a couple of weeks. I've got nothing planned. I think I'm in denial - if I don't celebrate it, it won't be real. Not sure why this birthday is screwing me up so bad - not like I had this problem when I turned 30.

Well, nothing I want to talk about here.

So glad I didn't do a bracket this year. Much more fun to root for all the underdogs. And to all my friends who picked Kansas: you should have known once everyone picked them that they'd lose. They only win when no one expects them to. You know how this works.

No where near 30 minutes but I'm calling it a night. Might go watch Withnail and I for the first time (thank you Netflix). Could use some good British humor (or is that humour?). And probably should figure out if I need to be at tomorrow's rehearsal or not. You would think I could figure that out. You'd be wrong. Night.

if you're wondering how my day went, this post won't help

2010-03-19T22:32:00.003-04:00

I'm beginning to think this Lenten experiment was a bad idea. I didn't write last night because I had a crisis a faith. Not about my actual faith, but about writing. I thought adding this discipline to my Lenten remembrance would help me focus, would add something to this usual season of subtraction. But what I'm adding to the world isn't always a positive thing. Too often I focus on the dark side of life and I can't imagine anyone feels better or closer to God after reading my ramblings the past couple of posts.

Part of the problem is the inherent narcissism involved in writing, and especially in blogging. I constantly talk about the fact that I write for myself and no one else. What could be more selfish than that? And in this kind of blog, where I talk mostly about my life, the selfishness is increased tenfold. Is it any wonder my experience this Lent has been less than fulfilling. It's like I purposefully sabotaged it by choosing an activity that goes against the self-sacrificing spirit of the season.

Of course the flip side is that perhaps my writing has given me the opportunity to bring to the surface some thoughts and feelings that would normally stay hidden. Maybe my writing is a purging of the poisons inside of me so I can be healthier and can fill the vacuum left behind with better things. The problem is the process is quite unpleasant. It's been emotionally draining and has forced me to question who I am and where I'm going and in some cases where I've been.

Making it worse, I'm doing it in a public sphere as opposed to somewhere private like therapy or a private journal. I'm spewing all this nastiness on my friends who were probably only expecting a quick overview of what my day was like (of course, if they know me, they had to know that's not the way I tend to write). Initially I thought sharing these ideas might help others who felt this way. But I'm not sure all this ugliness is actually doing that. If it's making me more miserable and not helping others, maybe I'd be better off not doing it?

I don't know.

I'd hate to give up now, with only a couple of weeks left, but can't help thinking we'd all be better off if I did.

But for now we'll plow on. Thanks to all those who responded to my last posts. It's strange - I sound much more depressed in my writing than I actually feel. Hopefully that's some consolation to those who feared I might be going off the deep end. Contentment seems to be the issue - I'm not content with the way I am and perhaps I need to be. But as another blogger friend pointed out, once we become content, we stop trying to change, stop trying to make tomorrow better than the day before. At least that's the tendency. And perhaps that's one of my fears: that if I accept I will never get married, I will no longer put myself in situations where I could meet someone. I know, I know - it's when you stop looking that love finds you. Sorry, that may work for some people but it's never worked for me. Not that actively searching has done wonders either...It's not an either/or thing. Contentment and hope aren't mutually exclusive. At least I hope not. But how do we feel content when we're always hoping for something else out of our lives?

Been reading Klosterman's latest, Eating the Dinosaur. His essay on voyeurism, "Through the Glass, Blindly," touches on part of what I've been feeling/experiencing:

What are the things that make adults depressed? The master list is too comprehensive to quantify (plane crashes, unemployment, killer bees, impotence, Stringer Bell's murder, gambling, addictions, crib death, the music of Bon Iver, et al.). But whenever people talk about their personal bouts of depression in the abstract, there are two obstructions I hear more than any other: The possibility that one's life is not important, and the mundane predictability of day-to-day existence. Talk to a depressed person (particularly one who's nearing midlife), and one (or both) of these problems will inevitably be described. Since the end of World War II, every generation of American children has been endlessly conditioned to believe that their lives are supposed to be great - a meaningful life is not just possible, but required. Part of the reason forward-thinking media networks like Twitter succeed is because people want to believe that every immaterial thing they do is pertinent by default; it's interesting because it happened to them, which translates as interesting to all. At the same time, we concede that a compelling life is supposed to be spontaneous and unpredictable - any artistic depiction of someone who does the same thing every day portrays that character as tragically imprisoned (January Jones on Mad Men, Ron Livingston in Office Space, the lyrics to "Eleanor Rigby," all novels set in affluent suburbs, pretty much every project Sam Mendes has ever conceived, etc.). If you know exactly what's going to happen tomorrow, the voltage of that experience is immediately mitigated. Yet most lives are the same, 95 percent of the time. And most lives aren't extrinsically meaningful, unless you're delusionally self-absorbed or authentically Born Again. So here's where we find the creeping melancholy of modernity: The one thing all people are supposed to inherently deserve - a daily subsistence that's both meaningful and unpredictable - tends to be an incredibly rare commodity.

The two obstructions he points out - an unimportant life and a mundane predictability - are what I've been struggling with. And look, it's happening just before my 40th birthday. Great. I'm a cliché. But at least I'm not alone - can't be if I'm a cliché, right?

And I've run out of ideas and the fact that I slept not at all last night isn't helping. So I guess I'll keep writing for now. I only ask that you, my faithful readers, take my thoughts with a grain of salt. In some cases, with an entire saltlick's worth. 'Til tomorrow. Æ

no, I haven't been drinking...

2010-03-17T21:57:00.002-04:00

One of the benefits of being single is you are not beholden to anyone else's traditions. If I decide I want to celebrate St. Patrick's Day by eating pie and drinking White Russians, then there's no one to tell me I'm doing it wrong (not that I'm actually doing this. Nope. Not at all). And no one to remember I've done it in case next year I want to do something else. Oh I know, some would quibble and say then they're not traditions, but then they don't live here and, well, I don't care. So cheers and pass the pie.

Sorry about last night. As I've mentioned before, there are some nights where it's a bad idea for me to type out the thoughts I have in my head, where being honest and open will do more harm than good, both for me and for anyone unfortunate enough to read my ramblings. When I got home from rehearsal last night, I was not in a good place. So rather than subject people to my thoughts, I broke my Lenten promise (again!) and took the night off. I think everyone is better off for it.

But now, with some distance between myself and those thoughts, I think it might help me sort out what I was feeling by typing it up. I was driving home, listening to my iPod on shuffle, when "The Luckiest" by Ben Folds came on the radio. I love this song and had been thinking of it this past week, basically along the lines of I should listen to more Ben Folds. So with the wind whipping through the sunroof, the song played and I realized I couldn't imagine ever singing the song to anyone. Or having anyone sing the song to me. This wasn't a simple failure of imagination. It was the sense that I didn't believe in the possibility of love ever occurring in my life again.

As you might imagine, it made me a little sad. Crushed, actually. This isn't totally new - I've had thoughts like that float through the transom of my mind before. But last night was one of the first time when it felt real, like this was a living, breathing possibility, enough that now, 24 hours later, I'm still having difficulty convincing myself it's not true. I mean, looking at my age, my lifestyle, my past relationships, it's hard to argue that the odds aren't against me. It's not like I'm suddenly going to become good at dating or not have the worst timing in the history of the world.

I wonder if maybe I need to run with this feeling. Maybe if I realize no hope remains, I'll be able to focus my energy on those things I am able to accomplish instead of wishing for something I'm in all likelihood never going to have. It's like the old Steve Taylor song: "Since I Gave Up Hope I Feel a Lot Better." Yes, I realize he was singing against that idea, but maybe there's some truth to it in this instance.

I don't share this so people will try and tell me it's not true. Or feel sorry for me. Or tell me to quit my whining. Or even tell me I'm probably right. It's been on my mind and that's why I share. Unfortunately, it hasn't done what I'd hoped, which is to help me understand it. But it has helped me to clarify some of the things I need to think about, pray about.

Over half way through OGT Week. Hasn't been horrible, which is probably all I can ask for. I'm glad my lesson plans worked so well - lots of self-directed time for the students, which with the wacky schedule works great. I did make one mistake, however: I allowed my fourth bell to choose which movie they'd like to watch (before you go casting stones, know that I have my fourth bell twice as long as my other bells and I refuse to give them busy work or get ahead of my other classes). They chose Hotrod. It's like almost every other SNL-related movie I've ever seen. Might have been funny as a five minute sketch, but not as an 87 minutes movie. Luckily, it will be over after about 20 minutes tomorrow, which means we can watch something else. From now on, I'm only letting them choose movies from my collection - that way at least I'll know I'll like them.

Speaking of movies, I watched Gone Baby Gone this afternoon. Liked it more than I anticipated. Who knew Ben Affleck could direct? Lots of good performances and a story that left you torn on how you wanted it to end. Need to return it tomorrow if I hope to get another movie by the weekend, but might try and watch the commentary if I can.

Time for sleep. Here's hoping I don't wake myself up over and over again like I did last night. You know it's bad when your moaning wakes you up. Happy St. Patrick's Day!

standardized hell, day one

2010-03-15T22:33:00.002-04:00

So today was the first day of the Ohio Graduation Test, Ohio's version of high stakes testing where everyone must pass to graduate and we make the test so easy that you'd almost have to try not to pass. Yes, I understand, I'm blessed to be in a district that does well and that's why it seems easy, but any assessment where you need less than 50% to pass is not a terribly accurate tool. I'm just sayin'. Not that I have to worry about that at all this year since I'm spending my time with the freshmen. It's not horrible and it could be much worse, but let's be honest, if they could drive themselves to school, they would be allowed to join the juniors and seniors with late arrival. So while we try to make the time meaningful, the truth lingers in the backs of our minds and it's hard to throw yourself into the activities with abandon when you feel they're meaningless. And of course, if the students aren't involved, it's all the teacher's fault for not being more energized and excited.

See? This is what this week does to me. It makes my jackass side more pronounced. Sorry.

Took a Sabbath from writing yesterday, partially because I was sick and exhausted and partially because I really didn't have anything to share. Didn't do a whole lot, which was both good and bad. And by the time I was ready to do something, my body shut down and I could barely keep my eyes open. Of course, when it was time to go to bed, I couldn't fall asleep and ended up being up well after midnight with the alarm set to go off at 5:30 - 4:30 the old time. Joy. Maybe that's why I'm so grumpy today.

Two good rehearsals again for Wedding Singer. I know I've said this before, but it's simply a fun show and one I don't mind rehearsing for. I'm still fighting those initial rehearsal jitters - I always tend to feel like an outsider, especially with this show when everyone is so much younger than me. I know I just need to relax and not be so uptight about how I appear, but I still feel a bit awkward. Of course, the case could be made that this isn't limited only to rehearsals and doing shows but is how I wander through life most of the time.

Yeah, I don't want to go down that road tonight.

Saturday night, after blogging, I watched Every Little Step, the documentary about the revival of A Chorus Line. It took you from the first day with over 3,000 hopefuls to the final cast. I loved it, but I'm not sure what non-theater people would think of it. It resonated for me because I've been in similar situations (not quite that large, but still) and I know those feelings and my heart went out to those auditioners and I died a little every time someone got cut. I suppose it's similar for those who play sports and see movies about what they go through. If you have any ties to theater at all, I highly recommend it. Netflix is streaming it, which is how I saw it.

My computer is acting like it's 1995 and I'm on dialup yet again. Everything is taking three times as long and occasionally everything freezes and stops for a while. I feel like I want to put on some Gin Blossoms and watch the X-Files.

Less than 20 days left in Lent, which means Easter will be here before you know it. My Lent has been a bit lackluster. The extra silent time in the car has been good but not transformational. The blogging has been good, but too often I feel like I'm not digging nearly deep enough or writing well enough or saying anything of importance. And I'm definitely not experiencing a Lenten honeymoon. More like God and I are going out to dinner and tolerating one another's presence. Which is totally my fault.

You know those days when you can't think of any reason why anyone would want to spend any time around you because you're so miserable? Yeah, I'm having one of those days.

Bwahahahaha, "Casualty of Love" from the show just came on my iTunes. Perfect.

And on that note, I hope to go get some sleep. Here's hoping day two goes better...Æ

ArtWalk

2010-03-13T21:15:00.003-05:00

We'll begin with some thoughts I had wandering through the Starburst exhibit (right side) at CAM today. Then we'll see where it goes from there.

Looking at pictures behind glass, it's impossible not to see yourself reflected in them, both literally and metaphorically. The pictures shift and change depending on where you stand, your silhouette strangely making visible what lies there. You have to focus, concentrate, lest your eyes stare at the reflection and not the image beneath the glass.

These Eggleston photos again make me wonder about the stories behind them. Why are those two men standing together? What is the boy in the chair thinking? What happens beyond the doors of that unnamed building? Why is that man standing naked in a room graffitied with God? The critics hailed these photos as boring. But aren't all photos that way when you have no connection to the story behind/beneath them? Even the mighty Adams could be dismissed as someone else's artsy vacation photos.

divolas: These images move me more than the abstract Kasten's next to them. The collision of the decaying beach house with the eternal beauty of the ocean and sky behind it. The garish colors of delapidation make the softer colors of the sunset more poignant somehow. Or maybe that's me writing my story into what I see. Not that there's anything wrong with that. In fact, I'd say it was expected.

The scripture today is John 9, the story of the man born blind. Yet another scripture where people are looking to blame and Jesus focuses on something greater. I wonder how the blind man made it to the pool of Siloam to wash. Did someone take him? Did he know the way to go? And what must it have been like, to see for the first time. Like being reborn where everything you've known is changed. I've heard stories of those who received their sight being overwhelmed by all they were now able to see. Sometimes this world is overwhelming to those who are used to seeing. I can't imagine it all being new. And then to have those around you doubting your identity and peppering you with questions. I think I would have run off and locked myself in my room for a while, until I could deal with this new world around me.

Perhaps that's why I like photographs so much - they take that which I've gotten used to and make it new. Almost like seeing for the first time.

Looking at all these pictures from the 70s, I wonder if our current time will have such a strong aesthetic. You can tell the time period simply from the photos - the design of the cars and building, the colors they used. Time and objects now seem so generic. Given a photo of 1995 and 2010, could anyone 30 years from now tell the difference? Or perhaps there is an aesthetic, only I'm too close to it now to see it. Perhaps I have to wait 30 years to see what this particular time period will be remembered for. Perhaps only then will I be able to appreciate what is all around me right now.

It was only Rob and I today, so plenty of time to sit and talk. We discussed the possibility of him and Lilly leaving and moving to CA. I'm excited for him and the opportunity to follow his passion, but am saddened too at the thought of them leaving. Guess that's true any time someone you care about moves away. And it could all happen relatively quickly - if Rob gets accepted, he'll need to be in CA by June. It does certainly seem that God has little by little been freeing them from their ties here in Cincinnati, so I guess I wouldn't be surprised to see them go. We talked about getting those involved in Thinplace together and talking about the eventuality which would be good. I know ArtWalk will continue as it's now become a vital part of my life. As for our journaling time, my guess is it will go on, though perhaps in an altered form. I'm trying not to get ahead of myself, but also don't want to get caught off guard.

Bleah. Just realized it's an hour later than it actually is due to that jerk Ben Franklin. At least now it happens away from my birthday. I'm going to miss actually driving to work while the sun was rising. Back to the darkness for my morning drive.

Went and saw Copout tonight. Was pretty much what I expected, which was not much. Willis definitely phoned his part in. And I still don't understand the appeal of Morgan, though he did have some funny bits. Not nearly as bad as Jersey Girl, but definitely not a fave of mine. I figure Smith simply wanted to work with Willis and took this project to do it. His life, he can do what he wants. But I felt it was mediocre at best.

Went to see the movie at the Regal in Mason and therefore ran into several students, both at the movies and Red Robin. All I could think as I talked to them was the line from Mean Girls: "Oh, I love seeing teachers outside of school. It's like seeing a dog walk on its hind legs." I wonder if that's what they're thinking, too.

OK. I guess I should start to wind down. Another choreography rehearsal tomorrow. I definitely need to be well rested for it. At least I know what I'll be wearing this time. Until tomorrow.

no...of course I'm not home blogging on a Friday night...

2010-03-12T22:04:00.002-05:00

OK. Yes I am.

Friday has finally arrived and I could think of nothing better to do than to stay home, catch up with my DVR and browse the interwebs. Such a glamorous life I lead. But not terribly unexpected after the craziness of the first week of a new trimester and the impending doom of OGT week. Throw in my first choreography rehearsal in two years and, well, you have one mostly exhausted Thurman.

Favorite line of the night: "Disappointing you is like choking the Little Mermaid with a bike chain." Jeff Winger - Community Don't know why more people don't love this show.

Sorry. Brain is a bit scattered tonight so should be interesting to see where my fingers take us. Hopefully no where too embarrassing (though that might be more fun for everyone but me).

I want this t-shirt. No, really. One of my favorite lines ever. Non-geeks need not click on the link as you probably won't understand it.

From the greed and consumerism department: Got my Norwood taxes back from my friend Gary. So instead of owing the city a ton of money, they actually owe me a whole dollar (which they won't send to me, which I don't care). What's this mean? It means the quest for a new TV is officially on! Woohoo! Anyone want to go shopping with me? Or give me suggestions on what and where to look?

Curious collision: I recently downloaded Emmylou Harris's Heartaches & Highways and the new song on the collection is called...wait for it..."Connection." And it's playing right now. Unfortunately, I seem unable to find the lyrics and since I'm writing at the moment, I don't have the time to actually listen to them. But I find it amusing just the same.

A friend of mine emailed me about my thoughts on connection and said they didn't believe a connection could occur via social networking sites. I'm not sure I believe that completely. My friend claims you can't truly connect with someone unless you've met them face to face and looked into their eyes. But my experience speaks to a different reality. I have friends who I met online and felt connected to well before we actually came face to face in 3-D world. And I've felt connected to people I've never met before in person. Now you could argue those aren't true connections, that we're connected to the idea of the person and not the person themselves or to their online persona but not the actual person. But I'm sure that happens in face to face relationships, too. Again, it may depend upon your idea of connection and what that means.

Don't get me wrong - I think it's difficult to connect online because, well, it's much easier to lie, to show only specific parts of yourself but not the whole. But in some ways, it's also much easier to be open and honest - our anonymity gives us the freedom to put ourselves out there in ways we don't with people we know. Hmm, paradox much? I understand the pitfalls of feeling connected to people online, but I'm not ready to dismiss it completely. Or maybe it's an example of hope springing eternal, that somewhere out there (beneath the pale moonlight) are other souls I could connect to...and I don't have to actually be in their physical presence for that to take place.

ArtWalk tomorrow. Looking forward to hitting the other side of the photography exhibit for another trip down nostalgia lane and hanging out with people I haven't seen in far too long. Time for me to renew my membership, though part of me wonders if I should. I mean, I joined last year because they were starting to charge for parking, but now that I can get it validated by eating at the cafe (and when don't I do that?), it might be better to take it on a visit by visit basis. I'll probably still reup - I want to give the museum as much support as I can.

OK, time to go continue my night of DVR overdosing with some Caprica and The Soup. Then maybe I'll catch up on Spartacus. Ah, the glamorous life...Æ

we're going to party like it's 1985

2010-03-11T23:08:00.002-05:00

Sore. Sore. Sore. Sore. Sore. As if I needed another reminder of times approaching footsteps. First choreography rehearsal tonight. Opening number. I'm going to be lucky to be standing once it's all said and done. Though, on the good side, I picked up the moves pretty quickly and I didn't drop my partner when I did the lifts. Here's hoping I can continue that on Sunday for the next choreo rehearsal..and that my muscles have recovered by then.

I'm a bit frightened by the moves we're doing - they're all the ones I avoided in high school in my attempt to be holy. The running man. The Roger Rabbit. The snake. Scary scary scary. I think there's even a little Thriller in there. And that's only the first number. Probably a good thing my grandmother doesn't know about my blog. She'd be appalled. I'm sure the good Reverend Phineas Bresee is rolling over in his grave. Of course, my friends are probably rolling in the aisles at the thought of me dancing those moves.

Speaking of which, if you're reading this, you should make plans to come see the show. Tickets are already on sale and some of the shows are selling out quickly. May 6-9, 13-16, 19-22. Footlighters. I'll try and post info as I get it. I promise, this is going to be a fun, fun show (and not just because you get to try and see me dance).

I'm not going to make it a full half hour tonight. Muscles too tired, head to spinny, need for sleep far too strong. Plus, I need to get up early and make sure I have my wiki all set up and ready to go for class. Starting our lit circles tomorrow. Everything went well splitting the classes into groups except for my 2nd bell. 21 guys. 7 girls. And most of the guys all chose the same book. We'll see if I can balance out the groups somehow, though when I asked some of them to take their second choice, they balked. I can't really blame them - what's the point of offering choice if they're not going to get the book they really want?

That pinging sound in my head must mean it's time for sleep. Sorry for the brief post. Hopefully my usual Teacher Friday Night doesn't wipe me out. Night!

somehow the vital connection is made

2010-03-10T21:35:00.002-05:00

A bit odd coming here right after watching this week's House. The episode focused on a blogger who shared her entire life on her blog. It dealt with many of the questions I've raised about blogging - why do I do it, who is it for, how do I decide what I write about, etc. The character on the show attempted to share everything, without editing, to break down any walls of privacy in an attempt to connect with people. But is that what it takes to connect with people, complete transparency? Does it actually help people feel closer to you? Or is there a point at which sharing everything actually keeps you from connecting with people? I don't know. I know I don't share everything here (and everyone should be overjoyed that I do not). Many, many things that happen in our lives don't need to be shared with everyone. And maybe that's the key: it's not about simply sharing, but about with whom you share what you share. I shouldn't be about connecting with everyone; it should be about finding those people with whom you connect and then opening up yourself to them. But then how do you find those people unless you first open yourself up?

This is something I often struggle with - this idea of connection. I used to joke that I felt like a Duplo block in a Lego world - kind of the same, but not exactly. The show talked about how the internet was supposed to solve this problem - with so many people online, you had a much better chance of finding someone who thought like you than if you had to rely on the people in your general vicinity. Makes sense. But simply finding people like you is much different than actually connecting with people. With social networking sites, we're more "connected" than ever. We know more about our "friends" than we used to. But I don't see it making us any more connected. We have more information about people, but I'm not sure we actual "know" them any better.

I used to believe the more you knew about a person, the better able you would be to connect with them. And to an extent, without knowledge there's no way to truly connect. But there's more involved than just knowledge for true connection. I mean, I have many friends that I know a lot about, but the amount of knowledge doesn't necessarily transfer to being more connected. There's something else involved, right? Something that allows us to connect with people we barely know? Something that separates our acquaintances from our deep friends?

But what is that thing? Is it like the ever-elusive chemistry we talk about in dating relationships - impossible to define but we know when we have it? Again, I don't know. I don't understand why I connect with some people and not others or why at some points in my life I can't seem to connect with anyone. Trying harder doesn't help and may in fact hinder. Perhaps this is one of those areas of life I'm going to have to surrender to mystery and realize there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in my philosophy...

Anyway, it's obvious through this Lenten experiment that I do not have what it takes to be an actual writer, by which I mean, I lack the discipline necessary to do it well. I'm far too good at finding excuses not to write instead of making time to do it. Even when I try to get myself to write by attaching a spiritual aspect to it I can't quite do it. Would be much easier if I didn't keep my life so busy. I wear myself out, leaving little energy to do activities like writing. Watching TV is far less taxing than sitting down to gather my thoughts and when I'm exhausted, I tend to go for what is less taxing.

Of course, being exhausted doesn't seem to help me sleep any better at night. Insomnia has crept back into my life here at the beginning of the trimester, as it always seems to do. I'm sure if I was in therapy I'd be able to make the connection between the two. But right now, I'm too tired to think about it.

Things that make me wonder: my neighbors behind me currently have almost every light in their house on. This is not an unusual occurrence. And there are few times, even in the middle of the night, when I turn to look out my window and don't see at least one or two lights on. Just strange to me.

And that my friends is a sign I should stop typing. Probably won't get to blogging until late tomorrow - school, then film club (The Fisher King) then my first choreography rehearsal for The Wedding Singer. I'm exhausted and I haven't even started yet. Better get some sleep tonight (I hope, I hope, I hope). Æ

not enough hours in the day

2010-03-09T23:22:00.003-05:00

11:22 and I have to get up in six hours so there will be very little writing here today. Thought about blowing it off all together but decided I should say something at least. Highlights of the last day or so?

The Wedding Singer music is written for men with a much better range than me and less testosterone.
Sleeping in will not work for me as I can't handle dealing with the traffic around the school every morning.
My classes were quiet today - almost too quiet. Makes me nervous.
I got a haircut but you can't tell.
I need good ideas for good bar songs for my band to play.

OK, I'm slacking off and going to bed. Hopefully I won't run out of hours again tomorrow. Night. Æ

they're going to regret this in five years

2010-03-08T17:15:00.003-05:00

Monday. Time for recovery from the weekend. Time for new starts. Time for me to try and do this blogging thing some other time than right before I'm going to bed.

Some leftover items from the weekend first. I went Saturday to see Burton's Alice in Wonderland. It was a Burton film - pretty to look at, but the story left me less than engaged. How less? I dozed off for a while somewhere in the middle and don't feel I missed too much. It's definitely pretty to look at and I didn't mind the grown-up Alice aspect, but it didn't wow me, which is what I was hoping for. Everything was adequate, which for a Burton film, was a bit underwhelming.

I also got the chance to catch Pomegranates for their vinyl release party - unlike last weekend when I got shut out of the Pop Empire show, there was plenty of space this time. Almost too much space. I was surprised at how few people there were. I also didn't see many of the regular crowd I've grown accustomed to seeing at the shows. The show was a bit bittersweet because it marked Josh's last gig with the band. No explanation on what happened, which I guess I understand, though it does fuel questions and rumors on why he's leaving. Was he asked to go? Did he decide to go? Did he find another band? Did they like the new guy better? I have no idea. Speaking of the new guy (who they didn't introduce at all, which also seemed strange), all I can say at this point is he's tall. Decent guitar player, didn't change the sound or feel of the band, which is probably what they're going for. He didn't play the song I was most curious about, "Coriander," because they saved that for Josh. Guess we'll find out at upcoming gigs. Talking with Isaac after the show, it sounds like they'll be plenty busy soon - SXSW this week then returning home and working on some new material. Yeah for new material.

Oh yeah, and I picked up their limited edition vinyl. Very pretty. And lyrics! Score!

Yesterday was the first read through for The Wedding Singer. A little nerve wracking, considering it was a new company (Footlighters) and pretty much a whole new group of people to work with (I only know the director and two of the cast members and they're both principals I'll probably not share many scenes with). And the cast is young. Way young. Other than the grandmother role, I think I'm the only one who actually remembers 1985. And I'm guessing some of them weren't even born then. But it looks to be a fun cast and a fun show. In fact, that's going to be the operative word for this show: fun. Much like the movie, it's not great theater or great depth, but the audience will walk out having had a great time. Tonight's our first singing rehearsal (nothing like jumping right from one show into another) so we'll see how it goes. As an ensemble member I've been assigned a couple of roles (the priest at Robbie's wedding, a bum who sings one of my favorite songs from the show). Can't wait to get started.

Added bonus: no Tuesday night rehearsals which means I don't have to figure out what to do with Entertaining Lucy. Excellent.

Went to Tracy and Kristy's Oscar party last night. Had a fantastic time hanging out with everyone and watching it on a HUGE screen with an amazing sound system. The show was pretty much what I expected - Steve and Alec were funny, NPH was incredible, Tina Fey and Robert Downey Jr. were hilarious. But the awards themselves left little drama. Warning: rant ahead. As for The Hurt Locker winning best picture...this only confirms my opinion that the Oscars are all about money and hype. I know many people loved The Hurt Locker and were glad to see Bigelow win over Cameron (which, I admit, did make me happy). But I'll say this now: if The Hurt Locker had been made by a man, it would not have been nominated for an Oscar and never would have won. It's like people were amazed an action picture was directed by a woman so they rewarded the oddity more than the film itself. Why this one more than any of the other action films she's done? I have no idea. Look, it's not a horrible movie (like Crash was), but I think five, ten years from now, people will look back and say, "Really? We said this was the best picture? Really?"

Same with Sandra Bullock's win. She's cute and fun and fine for the roles she typically plays. But best actress? I sat there watching the clips before they announced the winner and EVERY other actress did a better job in their movie than she did. If I'd been judging just by the clips, I would have been flabbergasted that she'd won. I did not see the movie (and don't plan on seeing the movie) but I didn't see anything in any of the clips that would have made me think, "Wow, she really put on the performance of a lifetime."

I may be done with Oscar. They rarely reward the performances or the films I think were truly outstanding and I end up feeling exhausted and disappointed every year. And despite promises, the show was as horrible as year's past (for the love of all that is holy, stop doing interpretive dances!) And I also feel completely out of touch with everyone. If they would only take my suggestion and award Oscars five years after the films release then I might find them actually worthy. It takes at least that long to realize which films have staying power and which ones were all about they hype. Of course, you could say that about any awards given - books, music, etc.

I think I'm expecting too much of my awards shows.

Lots of good comments on my post pornstache look. I'd originally intended to grow the beard right back, but maybe I'll go about barefaced for a while. The only problem is I have to get a new driver's license this month and it might be weird to be be without facial hair for that since I have some kind of facial hair the majority of the time. We'll see how I feel after a week or so.

Today was teacher work day and I feel remarkably prepared for tomorrow's onslaught of new students, which of course makes me nervous I'm forgetting something. But at least I'll have first bell plan to make sure every thing is in order. I may even experiment with getting up later, say 6:00 AM instead of 5:00 AM. I didn't do that first tri because I knew I'd have to break the habit once 2nd tri started. But I have no such worries now. I even got a decent lunch, so I teach two bells, have lunch and then teach two more bells. Couldn't ask for a better schedule (well, I could ask for 4th bell plan, but that's not going to happen). Here's to the final trimester - I hope it all goes well.

OK, time to grab some dinner before heading down for rehearsal. Very excited to get started.

mea culpa

2010-03-07T08:59:00.002-05:00

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been two days since my last entry. I've been too busy and I humbly repent. Christ have mercy. Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy.

You would think if I've been too busy to blog I'd have plenty to write about. But busy-ness does not equal interesting. But we'll give it my best shot.

2nd trimester is nearly over - teacher work day tomorrow than a whole new batch of students on Tuesday. I get four days with them before the week-long extravaganza that is the Ohio Graduation Test. Joy. So I'll only see them every other day and they'll be OGT zombies so the odds of learning anything are slim to none. Then I get a full week with them and then the week before spring break we have our rescheduled black history month speaker on Monday, altered schedule Tuesday, primetime Wednesday and pep assembly on Thursday with Good Friday starting our spring break. So yeah, planning should be interesting. I have some of it ready - in fact, I'm much farther along than I normally am at this point. Had almost all my exams graded before lunch on Friday - only a handful of IEP tests that haven't been returned by their support educators to mark up on Monday. Don't think I'll have any students scrambling on Monday to turn in late work - as usual, most students grades didn't change with the final, either up or down.

Lots of endings this week - end of the trimester, end of Beyond Therapy, end of my facial hair (sorry, I couldn't keep the porn 'stache any longer). But some beginnings too - heading down to Newport this afternoon for my first meet and greet with the cast from The Wedding Singer. I'm excited and a bit nervous - pretty sure I'm the oldest person in the cast. Probably only one who was actually alive during the 80s. This is the first musical I've ever done where I know nothing about the show going in - everything else I've at least had a vague idea. Not this time. Should make life interesting. At the very least today, I'll find out how much of my schedule is swallowed up by rehearsals. Hopefully not too much or at least nothing that will cause drastic changes in my current calendar.

Strike is this morning, so can't make it to the monthly gathering at St. E's. And no Thinplace tonight. Sometimes it feels like I gave up church for Lent. Took a little time this morning to read the Lectionary passages. We've got Moses and the burning bush, a warning lest we be struck down like the Israelites and Jesus saying, basically, not everything happens for a reason and we've got a year to bear fruit or else we'll be cut down. So glad I don't have to preach today. I may have to go searching for sermons today - would love to see what different people focused on. Makes me think of the Otherness of God - His holiness compared to us and how wholly different He is than us. Much easier when we feel we have a grasp on who He is, can understand why He does and allows some things to happen. It makes sense if people are punished for sins - we may not like it, but we get it. But for bad things, like the killing of the Galileans or the accident with the tower, to happen to people no different than us for no apparent reason - it makes no sense. There's always the hope that once we're not stuck in the middle of this thing called Life, we'll have perspective and be able to make sense of it all. But maybe not. Maybe we'll never make sense of it. Maybe we'll reach a point where we simply don't care anymore because it's not important.

Like I said, glad I'm not preaching today.

Abrupt change of topic: got my taxes back from my friend Gary yesterday. Was very excited when I saw my federal and state returns - more than enough to get a decent flat-screen TV if I so desire (and I do, oh I do). But then I looked at my city tax and it said I owed nearly half of my federal return. At first I was furious - leave it to Norwood to find a way to screw me. But as I looked at it closer, it seemed there had been some confusion - the form filled out was for Northwood, Ohio not Norwood. So what I'm hoping is the total was off and I'll only end up owing Norwood my usual amount, which is still annoying, but better than almost five times my usual amount.

OK, time to get ready to head down for strike. A little more prep time today with the shaving of the 'stache. Going to be awfully breezy. Been a while since I've been barefaced though I don't anticipate it lasting too long. Maybe not even a week. Faretheewell. Æ

it's 1:30 AM

2010-03-06T01:27:00.002-05:00

and I'm going to bed. Sorry. Not taking the time tonight to do a post. Will pick it up tomorrow when I'm more awake. But I survived the last day of the trimester, am done with grading (except for a handful of IEP exams that didn't get to me yet), performed in Beyond Therapy's penultimate show, picked up some wicked cool Pomegranates vinyl and watched a bittersweet concert. But bed is calling and I'm going to try to heed her call and hope she welcomes me with open arms (but not in a Steve Perry/Journey kind of way).

Night.

the day after

2010-03-04T20:45:00.003-05:00

Don't worry. I won't torture you any more with long, third-person accounts. Not today anyway. I will give this brief epilogue to last night's...whatever it was. Warning: not for the weak of stomach.

Exhausted from battling with his demons, Thurman went to bed before 10:00, a rare event indeed. It didn't last long, however. Just before midnight, his stomach gently tugged on his consciousness like a small child needing to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. He made his way to the medicine cabinet and popped a handful of antacid before trying to settle down and go back to sleep. After about an hour, he decided the antacid wasn't helping, so he got back up to head downstairs to get a little 7-Up to hopefully settle his stomach. But as he stood up, he coughed, which caused whatever was upsetting his stomach to come flying out of his mouth, all over his hand, his hardwood floor and the dirty clothes lying there. He spent the next half an hour cleaning up the mess and throwing the clothes into the washing machine. By this time, his adrenaline refused to allow him to fall back asleep, so he finished Pride and Prejudice and Zombies before finally drifting off to sleep around 2:30AM.

Contrary to what I wrote yesterday, that was the perfect ending to the perfect day.

Today was better - I at least was able to keep the thoughts at bay, which was somewhat remarkable given my lack of sleep. Probably helped that I felt like I was underwater most of the day - everything seemed distant and swirling. Thanks to those who sent along words of encouragement - they are always appreciated, though please don't get the idea I was fishing for such. I really do write to make sense of my life, not as a passive-aggressive way of getting compliments. At least, I don't think I do. Who knows what my unconscious is doing?

Anyway...exams are half over. Two more tomorrow, during which I hope to grade the essays from today's exams. If all goes well, I should have all the grades done before I leave tomorrow afternoon. I might even have them done before lunch. I am not used to this. I feel like I'm doing something wrong, that I'm forgetting something if I'm this far ahead. Maybe if I ignore it, it won't all come crashing down on top of my head. I'm even mostly ready for the beginning of the trimester next week. I better stop talking now before I jinx it.

Met with Greg and Nathan again today for lunch at the Chinese buffet (probably not the wisest of choices given my recent stomach issues, but other than feeling too queasy to eat dinner, I'm doing OK). We talked about movies and the upcoming Oscars. I even filled out a ballot, though I went with what I wanted to win, not what I thought would win. So what did I put? Here are the highlights:

Best Picture - Inglourious Basterds

Best Director - Quentin Tarantino

Best Actor - Jeff Bridges

Best Actress - Meryl Streep

Best Original Screenplay - Inglourious Basterds

Best Adapted Screenplay - Up in the Air (though I almost put In the Loop)

I get the feeling I'm going to be very, very disappointed on Sunday night.

Which reminds me, I need to make sure I tape the Independent Spirit Awards this weekend. Much better options.

Tomorrow night begins the final weekend of Beyond Therapy. It is also the Pomegranates vinyl release party at Southgate. Hopefully it doesn't sell out before I get there this time. Don't think there's much of a chance for that since it's in the ballroom, but it's been that kind of week.

Time to go watch The Office birth.

one of those days

2010-03-03T19:09:00.003-05:00

DISCLAIMER: The following is the author's attempt to make sense of the day he has had. It is not to be taken too seriously, or too lightly for that matter. But the day perplexes, and writing, hopefully, will help to sort out the tangles. Hopefully. Also, please note: it is officially Talk in Third Person Day (3/3).

Thurman awoke to the jarring sound of his cell phone's death rattle shaking him from somewhere this side of actual rest. Unlike previous mornings, when he had horribly abused his snooze button, Thurman jumped immediately from bed. He knew he had promises to keep and miles to go before...well, you know.

Prep and travel to school was uneventful, if a bit out of the ordinary - a quick stop at Speedway for some caffeine, then on to Kroger to reward a class for a competition won months ago, finally stopping at the dreaded Arches for a sandwich and a yogurt parfait. Thurman still pulled into the parking lot before 6AM and was busy grading journals and furiously late homework assignments as students entered the building. He felt accomplished, knowing his day required little more than asking for final questions and hitting play for the Mockingbird DVD.

On days like this, it's hard to pinpoint the exact moment when it all starts to spiral out of control. Perhaps when his class refused to shut the fuck up while the movie was playing. Perhaps while watching Tom Robinson wrongfully declared guilty for the nine-hundred and ninety-ninth time. Perhaps while grading reflections lacking any kind of depth or intellectual rigor. Or perhaps it was the cumulation of a thousand little things, each stealing a little bit of his soul away.

By lunch time, the darkness had taken hold. Thurman's humor took on an edge - a short jab here, a snide remark there. Luckily he was done with students for the day and the only person who might have noticed was his partner in lunch-time crime, Andy. Did he sense the change? Could he tell his friend was preparing to step off into the abyss? Could anyone?

Thurman returned to his room after lunch, photocopied his final and dove head first into the pile of journals still waiting for his red pen of doom. No joy filled his heart as he read his student's words and made comments on their thoughts. Only a desire to be done with it all and go home. But no, that wasn't going to happen any time soon. First he had to go discuss the dreaded summer reading assignment with his fellow sophomore cogs in the wheel. Thurman hated summer reading, thought it a waste of time for everyone involved. The email pointing out its benefits and its importance only increased his hatred for it. And then, after beating his head against that wall, he had to stay so a student could take her exam early because of a soccer tournament in Tennessee.

A thousand little things.

He didn't hear the final bell ring, only saw the hallways flood with students and knew it was time to go. He finished the last of bell two's journals, printed off the hated email and made his way to his friend Kurt's room. He talked with Kurt about the open department head position, saying he would vote for him in a second, especially if it meant keeping other people out. He even joked that honestly, anyone who wants to be the department head should be automatically disqualified, following Douglas Adams's logic on those seeking power.* It was then that Kurt mentioned he'd already talked to Jenny about applying to be department head.

Another bit of soul.

Luckily Thurman's embarrassment didn't last long as the rest of his comrades came in. They allayed his fears that they would have to revamp their entire assignment to fit within the confines of the email, so they moved on to other issues, namely how lit circles had gone this trimester. He expressed his frustrations with using the Wikispace and with the activities in general and told of his plans to revamp what he'd done to make it more student and teacher friendly. Then he heard how the unit had gone in other classes. Amazing. The students loved it. The work they turned in was reflective and accomplished. The grading was a snap. One of the best parts of the trimester.

Thurman's head began to buzz. Conversation continued, but he checked out, not wanting to be reminded of his incompetency, his lack of proper planning skills, his worthlessness as a teacher. Everyone was laughing, discussing classes and students, but he sat there hiding behind a benign smile, wanting to leave but afraid to miss something important. Eventually the clock helped move him from his indecisiveness: his student was waiting to take her exam. He excused himself, found said student and walked with her back to his room. While she bubbled and scribbled on the scantron, Thurman tried to shake the all-too-familiar feeling bubbling up inside him.

On days like this, logic goes out for a drive and it never comes back. No amount of mental gymnastics will stop the barrage of negative thoughts. You're the worst teacher ever to collect a paycheck. Your students would be better off with a trained monkey passing out worksheets. You are emotionally incapable of being in any kind of relationship, not that anyone would want to be in a relationship with someone so physically unattractive. You have 40 more years left on a life filled with loneliness and destined for worthlessness (25 years if you're lucky). You could disappear from the face of the earth and no one would even notice...or care.

On days like this, thinking positive thoughts is impossible. Most days you can ignore the temptation to compare yourself to everyone else around you. Not today. There's always an "er" standing by to crush your soul. There's always someone better, smarter, funnier, cuter, richer, happier, sexier, kinder, friendlier, braver. More successful, more attractive, more confident, more desirable, each thought stepping on the heels of the one before it, stampeding through your brain until all you can think to do is find some way to remove your brain from your head, preferably with a heavy metal object and an explosion.

These were the thoughts torturing Thurman as he drove in silence toward his house. He'd felt this way before and he knew from experience these weren't the kind of thoughts to simply go away. He couldn't fill his head with happy thoughts because, well, he couldn't think of any. He tried to bury his thoughts in escapist television, but only succeeded in making the world seem sadder. Even a trip to his favorite Mexican restaurant couldn't cheer him up. He ended up feeling bloated and even uglier than he had before. To make matters worse, a five-minute sneezing fit assailed him on the drive home, only to be topped when he stopped at Kroger for a sugar fix and stepped in some poor child's pastel-colored vomit in the Easter candy aisle. The perfect ending to the perfect day.

Not wanting to be around people anymore, Thurman made his way home and did the only thing he thought might save him from his scorching case of ennui: he flipped on the computer screen, laid the keyboard in his lap, and typed and typed and typed into the night...Æ

*"It is a well-known fact that those people who must want to rule people are, ipso facto, those least suited to do it... anyone who is capable of getting themselves made President should on no account be allowed to do the job."

obsessions

2010-03-02T22:08:00.002-05:00

10:08 PM and I most desperately want to be doing something else, but know I need to do this first. So we'll throw some words against the screen, see which ones stick, and then go do what I want to do. It will make it that much sweeter, right? I hope so.

For the uninitiated: I have a bit of a thing for Lauren Graham. I think I've gone as far as to call her my future wife, though since that sounds a bit on the stalkerish side, I've taken to referring to her as my Alternate Universe Wife ('cause, you know, that's far less creepy). When people ask me what I'm looking for in a woman, hers is the first picture that comes to mind. Of course, I've never actually met her (though I tried my darndest to last spring break) and from the hearsay of friends, I hear she's not nearly as interesting in real life as she is on the screen. But hey, it's my obsession (I prefer the word fascination) and I get to make up the rules. Honestly, I'm more interested in Lorelei Gilmore than Lauren Graham, but that could change I suppose. We'll see what Parenthood is like tonight. I know I'm dooming it to an early death by watching it, but I'm willing to take my chances. Here's hoping it works out.

What is it about her that I like? Physically, she has the characteristics I like - not waiflike, dark hair, eyes to get lost in. But it's more the intelligence she projects. Now that may simply be her character(s), but the ability to drop pop culture references and connect every day events to obscure facts is a turn on. Blame the geek in me. You know that Friends episode where they make up their "freebie" list? Yeah, she'd be at the top for me.

OK, before we permanently move into the creeper zone...

Finished the basic recording for our demo tonight at band rehearsal. We laid down Bon Jovi's "Dead or Alive." Ironically, it's Jon Bon Jovi's birthday today. Appropriate, no? Thus ends my first recording experience. I have to say, not nearly as much fun as I thought it might be. Lots of sitting around while others record their parts. And playing along with headphones isn't nearly as much fun as practicing with the band. But it's a necessity if we want to play anywhere outside of John's basement. Be glad to get back to normal rehearsals next week and begin putting together a set. Been trying to think of songs we could play but there's a big difference between songs I want to play and songs our audiences would enjoy. I think you can find a balance, but if we want to play out, we need to think of audience first, our own tastes second. Feel free to offer suggestions if you have any.

Last teaching day tomorrow - not that I'm doing much teaching. We're watching To Kill a Mockingbird, looking for differences between it and the book. Also serves as a bit of a review for the book while giving me a chance to make sure I have all their grading done, though I rarely get as much done as I'd hoped. Too many distractions during the school day. I'm always a bit frustrated because I figure this would be something they would enjoy. But they tend to get distracted during the film. Guess I overestimate the attention spans of high schoolers. You'd think I'd get this by now.

Dangit - just remembered I'm supposed to bring in some snack/reward for one of my classes tomorrow. Was going to stop on the way home but, well, I forgot. Could run out now, but will probably wait until tomorrow morning on the way to school. No snooze for me tomorrow.

Walter Bruggemann is doing a special Lenten series at Redeemer on Wednesday nights during Lent (duh). Debating on whether I want to go over and listen or not. His book The Prophetic Imagination was significant during my seminary days. I guess he lives here in Cincinnati somewhere which for whatever reason seems odd to me. Of course, tomorrow might be my only chance to go depending on what the rehearsal schedule for The Wedding Singer is like. Will find that out on Sunday. Will probably keep the 'stache through the meet and greet, see if it's something that will fit in the show. Will not be keeping it until May, however; I know if I get creeped out looking at myself in the mirror, it must be worse for others. Excited to get started, though it will steal lots of my time here soon.

Wow. That's a horribly constructed paragraph. And how does one move from Walter Bruggemann to The Wedding Singer? It's a gift. Or a curse. Take your pick.

Five minutes before I can go watch Lauren again. *sigh*

I watched Oprah today. I'm not proud of the fact, but Roger Ebert was on and after reading the Esquire piece, I was curious to see what he had to "say." The voice technology using his actual voice was fascinating. I cannot imagine going through what he's going through, much less having such a positive outlook on life. Though I have to say, I hope his Oscar predictions don't come true. Sandra Bullock, best actress? The Hurt Locker best picture? I really think I'm going to hate the Oscars this year, no matter who wins. Not that this is anything new. I so rarely agree with the Academy any more. I'm not even excited about the screen writing awards this year, which is normally where I find my favorite films.

OK, time to turn on my DVR and watch Parenthood and hope it turns out well (and no, it didn't take me five minutes to write the above paragraph. I had a whole other paragraph started and then decided I wanted to talk about Ebert). Æ

the lull

2010-03-01T19:29:00.002-05:00

Monday night. No rehearsal. And, oddly enough, considering exams are only three days away, no grading. Finished everything they'd turned in today. Will have to start grading their journals tomorrow, but for now, I'm all caught up. Must say, quite a pleasant feeling.

Went on an adventure tonight for dinner. For months friends have been raving about Terry's Turf Club, known for their burgers. I was feeling like a burger, and nothing else was pressing, so I did a quick Google search, got directions and headed down. After missing the initial exit (why must I always get lost on Linwood Avenue?), I made my way. Nice eclectic outside - good match for what was inside. I sat at the bar since I was alone and the bartender was friendly and helpful. I looked at the (very) simple menu and decided to keep it simple with my order - a burger with American cheese, lettuce, tomato and grilled onions, a half order of fries and a Sprite. The verdict: definitely has potential, but I think I might have to change my order next time. I forgot to tell them (they forgot to ask) how I wanted it cooked and so I got what appeared to be a medium rare to really rare burger. Much of it looked barely cooked. Also, I'll forgo the onions next time. The taste was great, but the burger wouldn't stay on the bun. First bite sent it flying out the back. Not good. Plus the onions made it a messy, messy, messy meal. Killed at least one tree's worth of napkins. And $11.50 seemed a bit steep for what I got (especially the $2 for a can of Sprite). I'm not willing to declare it a total loss - will try at least once more. Kind of like Five Guys - I think I was overdone by the hype.

Been pondering Saturday's ArtWalk some more. We talked at lunch how our image of the 70s is "ugly." Hard to get away from that image looking at the photos. Some of it is the color processing of the time - the colors seem a little off. But definitely of the period. But even the subject matter chosen painted a picture of a time that seemed to have little beauty. Maybe that's my own biases coming in to play. I mean, how could an entire decade be ugly. But honestly, even looking at what these artist chose as beautiful, I couldn't help but thinking how...well, ugly everything was. I really can't make sense of it. Is it the fashion of the time? The design? What is it about that decade that will always look a little dull and yellowed?

And again I'm lost on the surface of things, judging based on the superficial, not on what lies underneath. But isn't that what makes good photography so compelling - it's ability to capture something beyond just its subject matter? That's what draws me to a good photo - that what is found within the frame is much more than the sum of its composition and subject matter. Sometimes I feel guilty for liking photography so much. I mean, photos are everywhere in our world. Heck, I take them myself. But it's the ones I know I could never do myself that I find most impressive. I think that's the crux of my art appreciation - it needs to look like something I couldn't do. Which is probably why I'm not drawn so much to modern art - I feel like I could do what they've done. But with some photographers, I realize that though we use similar tools, there is an art to what they do that I will never be able to match. So maybe I should embrace my love of photography and finally put my pieces up on my wall.

Whoa Thurm. Don't want to get too crazy.

Crap, just remembered I was in the middle of doing laundry. Completely zoned. For some reason, my whites always get the short end of the stick. I usually do them last and by the time they're ready to come out of the dryer, I've already used up all my laundry energy, so they sit there. Then they end up wrinkled, so I have to take a wet towel and throw it into the dryer and redry them. Hopefully they're done and the clothes I washed aren't all wrinkled, or I'll have to start all over. I know. Stupid. It's amazing I've survived on my own this long.

Still haven't hit my Lenten groove yet. The silence in the morning and afternoon are good, but I find it difficult to focus. I'm hoping once next week begins and I have 1st bell plan, then it might be a bit of a richer experience. Hope springs eternal.

Currently listening to The Stone Roses. Their self-titled first album is one of my "perfect" records. Picked up their album of B-sides off eMusic this month. Great stuff. So sad they crashed and burned so brightly with their second album. Not sure how the wheels could come off so quickly, but it's not an unusual story. So much potential unrealized. And crappy bands put out album after album. Sad.

Funny: last night I went out to The Comet with my friend Colin to catch the Comet Bluegrass Allstars. Great, great show. I tweeted "If my high school self knew I spent my Sunday night listening to bluegrass, he'd probably fling himself off something tall." I realized last night that bluegrass is the opposite of American Idol. The focus is on the music and the talent, not the show. They play their own instruments. They sing without the help of studio tricks. It's everything music should be and in this day and age so rarely is. My tastes have broadened quite a bit since those heady high school days, but one thing has remained true - I've always been drawn to artists with passion, who cared more about the music than about the scene or making a ton of money. Not that some of them haven't been popular or made money (U2 anyone?), but it's not what keeps them going.

OK, enough for tonight. Must go get the laundry before I have to dry my whites a 3rd time.

2nd Intermission

2010-02-28T16:41:00.002-05:00

In the middle of watching the USA vs Canada gold medal hockey game. USA is losing 2-1. They haven't trailed the entire Olympics until I decided to watch. Coincidence? I think not.

Been a relaxing day. Spent the morning at Redeemer. Decided to go old school instead of taking in the more contemporary service. Stepped into the other service, but felt like I was in the halls at Mason High, so figured I should go hang out with the adults. The sermon was on Jesus's lament over Jerusalem and how little we as a church and particularly a society don't lament. We cut the laments from our liturgy. We mask our funerals as celebrations of the life. But we need to no that lamenting is part of life. Two related quotes stood out to me. First, we cannot begin again until we weep first (or something like that - I didn't take notes). Too often we try to move on without taking time to experience the loss. The last quote ended the sermon: lamenting isn't a death rattle; it's a birth cry. How would our lives change if we took the time to lament - to feel sadness over the loss of life in an earthquake, the ending of relationships, the opportunities missed. Not to dwell on them and get lost in the sadness we feel (which is what I'm too often guilty of doing) but so our hearts don't become hardened to the suffering around us.

Lunch was spent at City Barbeque enjoying some brisket (and chocolate cake) and grading reading reflections. Hard to believe the trimester ends on Friday. I've got my exam set (which I need to remember to send off to my support educators tomorrow), but still have lots of grading to get through, namely the journals they've been keeping all trimester. Wish I was disciplined enough to grade more than once during the trimester but I haven't done that. Time consuming more than anything else. Not sure if the students have understood Mockingbird or not - actually had one student say his favorite thing about the chapters was when Tom Robinson was found not guilty. Oy to the vey!

Game has restarted, but I still have about 15 minutes left of typing. But I figured I'd better get this done now since I might not feel like it tonight. Am heading to The Comet for the first time in a long time - no Thinplace, so I'm meeting Colin for some burritos and bluegrass. Haven't seen Colin since the past summer - looking forward to catching up, seeing how his time at the friary is going. Hopefully we'll actually have the time to talk - and it isn't too crowded, though I'm guessing that's wishful thinking on my part. Probably won't stay the whole time - I do have to be up early in the morning - but wanted the freedom to stay if I need to.

Last night I actually was home in time to type some more, but decided to watch A Serious Man instead. Tried to get into the Pop Empire gig, but it was sold out. Never had that happen before. Too bad I didn't know that before I walked all the way down. Wishing the movie was better. I like the Cohen Brothers, but couldn't get into this one. Like with many of the Oscar pics this year, I can appreciate the performances, but the movies as a whole have been underwhelming. Can 't say I really have one I'm rooting for. Of the ones with the best chance to win, I'm pulling for Inglorius Basterds. Get the feeling I'll be disappointed no matter what happens. Like I said, none of them seem worthy. I've listened to the arguments for The Hurt Locker, but I still don't get all the hype. Obviously I missed something. And don't get me started on Avatar. An enjoyable film? Yes. Best picture? No way.

OK, the game is getting too intense to try and type at the same time. Here's hoping Team USA is able to overcome my curse. If not, my apologies Team USA. Æ

i don't have 30 minutes

2010-02-27T17:46:00.003-05:00

Due to lack of planning, I'm not going to be able to spend a full thirty minutes typing here, not if I want to be ready in time to go on at 8:00 tonight. Still have to shower, make sure I have everything I need and, if there's time, grab something to eat. I could come home after the show, but had planned on walking down to the Southgate House to catch the Pop Empire show. We'll see how I feel after I'm done playing Bob.

ArtWalk was great today. Great group of people, great exhibits, great discussion afterwards. Definitely needed it. In the time I have left, I'm going to transcribe the thoughts I scribbled down while I was there. The lectionary passage for the day was Mark 2:23-3:-6, which is where the opening thoughts come from. I spent all my time in half of the new photography exhibit, Starburst, a retrospective of '70s color photos. I've had some other thoughts since then, especially after our discussion, which I'll post whenever I make it home. Or tomorrow.

_____________________

Lawful. What does that mean? Full of law? Fitting within prescribed boundaries? Black/White. Right/Wrong. The Pharisees were all bout the law. And loved to point out when others weren't following the rule of law. they used it as a weapon, to discredit those they disagreed with. They, to use a cliche, weren't interested in the spirit of the law, why the law was there in the first place. Their interest was in the letter of the law, in adhering to whatever the law says. Even if that meant the death of another.

Enter Jesus and His disciples, breaking the law, doing what is not lawful. And the Pharisees jump to point it out. How dare you break the law! And you call yourself a teacher, a leader. Look how you lead others astray! Jesus doesn't argue with them, doesn't say, well, it should be legal. He points to what lies behind the law.

This isn't a casual dismissal of all law, a call to anarchy and licentiousness, to only abide by those laws you feel are important. It is a call to look beyond the surface of the law, to see the depth behind it, the story it points to. Not nearly as simple as following the rules, but closer to what the Maker of Rules had in mind.

______________________________

When I was young, my parents kept most of our photos, not in an album, but in a large, topless box under their bed. Sometimes I would sneak in and pull the box out, go through the pictures, looking at these moments captured in time. My parent's honeymoon. Christmases past. Family reunions.

Walking through this exhibit is like crawling under someone else's bed, looking at their captured moments. But these are devoid of the connections and associations we have with our own pictures. We're free to create stories that may or may not have anything to do with the actual capture moment. Isn't that the dream? To write the story behind our own moments, or to rewrite the ones that already exist? To be in control of what the pictures show? Or at the very least, to be freed from the confines of what has already happened?

forty-two hours later

2010-02-26T23:43:00.002-05:00

SO, obviously didn't make it back last night. Could have, but since I'd already written in the morning, I didn't feel the burning desire to jump right back in last night. Plus, you know, I had lots of important things to do. Please, don't ask me what they were.

My opening night as Bob went remarkably well. Crowd seemed to really enjoy it. As I say, never underestimate the power of a man on stage sporting a porn 'stache. Way nervous before going on stage - that hasn't happened in quite a while. But the adrenaline rush helped, as did the good reaction from the audience. Only went up on a couple of lines, and nothing too horrible. Gives me a little confidence going into tomorrow, which, strangely enough, is my closing night as Bob. Fun. Hope it goes as well.

This afternoon after school I came home to take a nap before the show, but couldn't seem to drop off. And then, once I did, my dreams were way whack. Somehow I was out visiting friends and when I returned home, my house had burned to the ground, leaving nothing but smoldering ruins. Without a beat, I went to my parent's house and crashed for the night. When I woke up, I told them the news, but they didn't believe me. And I was like, "Why else would I be sleeping on your couch?" So we walked over to where my house used to be so I could prove to them it had burned down. But somehow we didn't make it there - we ended up at my old neighbor's house and they invited us in. And when I got inside, a bunch of VC people were sitting around a large table and as I walked by, they all got up and left. I tried to say hi to a couple of them, but they averted their eyes and darted for the door, leaving me standing alone, wondering what just happened. And that's when my phone's alarm went off.

All right, all you armchair psychoanalysts. Have at it.

Don't you hate when you rant and rave about something, just because it doesn't go the way you hope it would, then realize it's not nearly as bad as you made it out to be and really, you simply need to get over yourself? Yeah, that happened to me this week. One of the joys of teaching sophomores is preparing them to take the beloved Ohio Graduation Test. Much of our curriculum is designed to help them succeed and Mason's done well with it. In years past, the culmination of this was proctoring the actual test in the spring. Well, this year they changed things up and for the first time since I started teaching, I'm not proctoring the test. Instead I was stuck doing the freshman activities, which basically means babysitting for three hours simply because they don't want to run buses to pick up only the freshmen. Really hacked me off. I mean, I'd invested all this time and now I wasn't going to get to see it through until the end. It's like being a basketball coach and getting them all the way to the state championship, but not being allowed to the final game. So I vented to some friends. Most kindly listened and tried to empathize, but I felt they didn't get it. Anyway, today we had our meeting to go over our responsibilities and while I was sitting there listening to the activities they had planned, I realized I wasn't angry because I wasn't going to be there to help my students take the test. I was angry because I liked having the time during proctoring to get stuff done and I wasn't going to have that this year. I mean, the activities should be right in my wheelhouse - it's exactly the same kind of stuff I used to do as a youth pastor. So this is me, apologizing for my bad attitude and actually looking forward to getting to hang out with students outside of class, which are some of my favorite times anyway.

Tomorrow is ArtWalk, which means I should have plenty to type about. Missed the one earlier this month, so this will be my chance to see the new photography exhibit that's there. Be good to be back in our "church" again. Could be only Rob and I again, though that's fine with me. Lots of good discussion to be had, no matter how many show up. Here's hoping the museum isn't overrun by rugrats like it's been the last couple of times. Have to make sure my iPod is charged up and ready to go, just in case.

Speaking of which, trying to decide what to use my eMusic credits on this month. Pretty sure I'll download the new Los Campesinos! and probably Turns Into Stone by The Stone Roses. They've also got a two CD greatest hits of Emmylou Harris for only 12 credits which I should pick up - amazingly enough, I think I only have a couple of the songs on the collection. Still worth it. Glad I splurged and bought the 50 extra credits last month - gives me a little more freedom. Love me some new music.

Lent is strange once again this year. The fasting part is going well (though I did get honked at on the way home the other day - must've been dosing off and fading into the other lane). But I find myself missing having a weekly gathering to go to. I love Thinplace and the chance I get to experience God there, but I miss the liturgy of a larger gathering. Might have to see about going back to Church of the Redeemer Sunday. Need to get my Eucharist on again.

OK, time to head to bed. ArtWalk isn't until 11:15, so I get to sleep in. Ahhhhh. Here's hoping I can actually do it and not wake up at 5AM as usual. Until tomorrow...

two hour delay

2010-02-25T06:03:00.003-05:00

At least this time I found out about it before I was already at school. Up, showered and mostly dressed by the time I got the call. Happy for the extra time this morning, though again, it wreaks havoc on my lesson plans. Trimester ends in a week. Guess we'll see which students are reading the book instead of relying on class discussion to get the idea of what is going on.

Anyway, figured I'd steal 30 minutes here at the beginning of the day, see if my writing comes any easier. Not that it will matter, really - no way am I going to get up at 4:30AM so I can write. Which begs the question, if I'm not, does that mean I'm not a writer? A writer has to write, no matter what; will sacrifice anything, even sleep, to do so. I am so not that guy.

Funny moment: last night, while taking out the garbage, a bit of red and white caught my eye, just off my front porch. On my way back inside I stopped and picked it up. It was a Netflix envelope. Seems my attempt to mail it out failed because it fell out of the mailbox and then got buried under the snow and only now reemerged. Lovely. Surprised the mailman didn't notice it before, but I suppose he has other things to occupy his mind. Will drop it in the mailbox at the post office, which, after the first debacle, I've been doing with all my returns. Guess I should have checked when it first went missing.

Speaking of movies, today's our first film club meeting of 2010. Should clarify that - first meeting with (keeping my fingers crossed) actual students. We'll see who, if anyone, shows up. We're going to try watching (500) Days of Summer...again. Third time's a charm, right? We'll see. In other movie related news, our local Hollywood Video is going out of business, so I stopped by and took advantage of their misfortune. Picked up three DVDs for $20: It Happened One Night, Henry V and Playing By Heart. Probably a good thing I didn't have more money - could have been quite an expensive day.

Tonight's my dress rehearsal for playing Bob in Beyond Therapy. Have to admit, I'm feeling a bit of pressure. Dave's been doing such a great job as Bob and I have the fear there's going to be a bit of a letdown. I know, I know, must have confidence and it will be fine once I get there. Comparison kills, but hard not to do so in this situation.

Hmmm...time doesn't seem to pass so swiftly here in the morning. This isn't so good.

I almost jumped into the fray on a friend's Facebook post. He claims being a moderate (or "moderate" as he puts it since he doesn't believe they exist) and being a Christian is impossible and to prove his point, posted the following:

For all my "moderate" friends out there who think the "middle road" is the right path... "So, because you are lukewarm--neither hot nor cold--I am about to spit you out of my mouth." Revelation 3:16 New International Version

*sigh* So why did I only almost jump into the fray? Because everyone else saw the post first and said mostly everything I would have said anyway. My friend Mike summed up some of my thoughts well:

1) You do realize the passage isn't referring to politics. And anyway, this whole 'political spectrum categorization' stuff (i.e. crap) is a construction of man (or possibly the Devil)--not God. Both parties take positions, endorse legislation, and espouse views that are not consistent with biblical teaching.

2) You're assuming that one can't be passionately moderate in their political views.

And I could have jumped in with a "Me too!" post, but really, what's the point? Not like posts like that actually encourage discussion. Two sides (well, many more than that, but in that world, there are only two sides - his and everyone that disagrees with him) screaming at each other but never listening to each other. Yes, you could say that about 90% of internet-based communication, but I guess I'm over it (and no, the irony that I'm writing about this on a blog is not lost on me). I've made my viewpoint clear and piling on more words only adds fuel to a fire that will burn no matter what I do or say. Feel free to question my faith because it doesn't fit with your narrow definition, but don't expect me to keep wading in just to give you the opportunity to mock and ridicule it. And I'm sure I'll be called a coward for doing this in my own space instead of posting on said person's blog or page. To quote Phil Collins, I don't care anymore.

OK, I should try to drive to school, get some grading done before students arrive at 9:15. If only every day was like this, I think I'd be a far more adjusted person. At least I'd feel more rested. Hope I can figure out how chop half an hour out of my lesson plans. So much for my hope of at least one full week of classes before final exams next week.

Might be back tonight. We'll see if I have anything worth writing about.

listening to American VI

2010-02-24T20:41:00.004-05:00

Johnny sings in the background as I type this. A little sad, but in a good way.

Wondered why no one said anything about my last post, but it turns out it still hasn't found its way to Facebook. So much for the checking every couple of hours to update. Maybe I should copy and paste and forget the auto update. We'll give it another day and if it doesn't get any better, we'll do it the old-fashioned way.

My latest Netflix treat was a movie I've been meaning to watch for years but never quite got around to it: Harold and Maude. Heard all about it. Knew it's significance in pop culture. My favorite author even wrote a piece about it (sort of). But until tonight I'd never watched it. Such an odd film. I can't imagine it being made today, not by Hollywood anyway. And I can't imagine why it took me so long to see this film. Definitely my kind of flick. May watch it again before mailing it back. At least I have that luxury.

Confession: I started this post about over an hour ago but couldn't get it to go anywhere, so walked away for a bit. Didn't help. Thoughts are hard to come by tonight. Must have used up all my writing mojo last night. Some nights are not meant for writing and this seems to be one of them. Rather than beating myself up for not making it for the full time, I'm stopping now and going to bed and hoping my brain is in a better place tomorrow. But so you have something for taking the time to stop by, here's some more thoughts from Brother Merton, a confession of sorts and one that speaks to where I am tonight. Æ

I am sorry for having let myself become so stupid and so torpid, thinking more of myself than of what I owe to your Love - and I owe You everything. Forgive me for paying so little attention. Without compunction and deep sorrow, contemplation is likely to be nothing more than a kind of idolatry. How can I love You if I do not know who I am and who You are? And how can I know this without sorrow? Jesus, I no longer want to have anything to do with love that forgets that it was born in sorrow, and therefore forgets to be grateful. Otherwise I will only go on lying to You, and I want to be done with insincerity forever and forever.

more random thoughts on compassion

2010-02-23T22:18:00.002-05:00

Maybe I should have made an addendum to my Lenten practice: I will write in my blog every day BEFORE 9PM. Then I wouldn't be staying up so late doing this. Of course, the way my schedule works, I'd never get to steal away long enough to get it done.

Thanks to Jay and Laurie for their responses to my last post via Facebook. We'd like to think this compassion thing would be easier than it is - and it seems quite simple from an intellectual standpoint. It's when we have to put those ideas into action in a real-life situation that life gets difficult.

Compassion = suffer together with. It's not simply an acknowledgement that someone else is suffering. It's a desire to enter into that suffering and help to alleviate it. It's easier with those we love - who hasn't watched a loved one suffering and wished you could take that suffering on yourself? Who hasn't wanted to be able to take away the pain, to exchange your own well-being so the one you love doesn't have to suffer? In fact, if you don't feel that way, I'm not sure you can honestly say you love someone. "Greater love has no man than this, then one lay down his life for his friends."

It's having compassion on those we don't know that becomes tricky. We see strangers suffer, like those in Haiti, and we wish and pray their suffering to go away. And yet, would we be willing to enter into their suffering, to suffer with them, or going even farther, to make their suffering our own? We'll send our money, maybe even give some of our time, but will we sacrifice our own well being for theirs? Most of us would answer no. We might sympathize, even empathize, but compassion goes beyond that.

Which brings the hardest call of compassion - to be compassionate to those we disagree with. Or even despise. How many of us are willing to enter into the suffering of those we call our enemies? The ones who have hurt us. The ones who have abandoned us. The ones whose beliefs run counter to our own. The ones who hate us as much as we hate them. So easy to see their suffering and believe they are getting what they deserve, that those are the consequences for their actions and they just have to live with them. We call it a tragedy when it happens to someone we love. We call it justice when it happens to our enemies.

The parable of The Good Samaritan comes to mind. As a Samaritan, the traveler was despised by the person he was helping. And he probably despised him as well. And yet, unlike the earlier travelers, he didn't see the suffering and move on. He stopped, bandaged his wounds, took him to an inn and paid for his lodging. He entered into the suffering of the one he did not know, did not love. Compassion is not a feeling, a sense of pity. It's a call to action, to put love into practice.

Much, much easier said than done, especially in the face of what we find abhorrent. Think of those you have a hard time loving, those you would consider the antithesis of all you hold dear. Those are the very people we are to have compassion for, the people, given the opportunity, we are to suffer with. Even if they brought that suffering upon themselves.

I know some would object and say that by doing so we condone their activities and behavior, give them our tacit acceptance. But compassion isn't about who is right and who is wrong. It doesn't judge before acting - it simply acts. The call is to enter into their suffering, not show them all their faults, help them become acceptable and then enter into their suffering. We don't show compassion so the person will change or so we'll feel all warm and fuzzy inside (though those things may happen). We show compassion because we know it is what Love demands of us and it is only Love that can help us to enter into another's suffering. Æ

insert witty title here

2010-02-22T22:12:00.002-05:00

When I am most quiet and most myself, God's grace is clear, and then I see nothing else under the sun. What else is there for us but to be tranquil and at peace in the all-enchanting wonder of God's mercy to us? It falls upon this paper more quietly than the morning sun, and then I know that all things, without His love, are useless, and in His love, having nothing, I can possess all things. ~ Thomas Merton

I have nothing to add. Just some thoughts to ponder today.

My thoughts are languid tonight, slowly trickling down the uninteresting face of the day. This is the kind of day the Stage Manager from Our Town would encourage me to visit when I've left this world and wanted to return. An ordinary day of no significance. Why can I not see with eternity's eyes so I realize how amazing this most boring day actually is? Would it be too much for me to take in? Perhaps.

Honestly, I have nothing to share, nothing to talk about. The mundaneness of today is overwhelming. Rough waking up. Caffeine fix at Speedway. Uneventful silence on the way to work. Students took tests while I graded. I dropped off my tax stuff into the mail. Grabbed a late lunch. Caught up on the interwebs. Started laundry. Dozed off. More laundry. More web. Late dinner at Lemongrass. More laundry. Watched Anchorman. Laughed with Angie at In the Loop. And now I'm here, typing about the nothing I've done all day. "Vanity of vanities, all is vanity. What profit has a man from all his labor in which he toils under the sun?"

Obviously, we're not going to get much out of this half an hour.

They (whoever they are) say that sometimes the writing is enough - it doesn't matter what you write as long as you write. Fine and dandy if you're scribbling notes into a private journal, but I don't think it translates to this medium well. Because, let's be honest, you hope someone reads what you wrote. And you can't say it doesn't matter what you read as long as you read. Or can you? Why are you reading this? Is this making you a better reader somehow? The argument could be made that this isn't making me a better writer either. So there's that.

As I mentioned last night, the word I'm pondering for Lent is compassion. So of course it came up several times today - in discussions, in readings. I know, it's like when you're looking to buy a new car and suddenly you see the car everywhere you go. This isn't a bad thing, to become more aware of compassion in the world. Better, of course, to actually show compassion. But is there a line? Can compassion reach a point of diminishing returns? On one of my mailing lists they were discussing the whole Joe Stack incident, one side arguing they felt bad for the guy, the other said they did until he burned his house and flew his plane into a building. No one was saying what he did was acceptable or to be lauded. The question then, is, can we be compassionate toward someone, even when they do something we despise?

Maybe I'll spend some time later unpacking the etymology of compassion. Literally means "to suffer together." And how does it fit with the idea of passion? Lots of writing. Too bad I didn't think of this earlier. Much more interesting than what I typed earlier.

Hope: I, like many others, read the Esquire piece about Roger Ebert and they talked about how losing his voice has allowed him to experience a resurgence in his writing. It pointed out that when he first started blogging, there really wasn't much there. But now it's his primary mode of communication. Something for me to aspire to.

Night. Æ

Maproom

2010-02-21T20:35:00.002-05:00

Spent the day setting up and participating in our monthly experiential worship called Maproom. Our theme this month was "A Lenten Hobo Honeymoon," focusing on Lent not as a time for sackcloth and ashes but as a time to fall in love with Jesus all over again. As I walked through the stations, I jotted down some thoughts. I'll try not to edit, but I may chicken out at some points. Some things I'm just not ready to share yet.

Walk through with me...

Hobo = HOmeward BOund. A pilgrim.

Station #1 What will you carry with you?

I wanted hope - God gave me compassion. My want came out of my personal need - God gave me what He wanted me to show to others. My heart turned inward, God wanted it turned outward. How can I show compassion to others? How can I let God show compassion to me?

Station #2 Prepare your heart for the journey

Is my heart a sponge, a rock, or dry sand? Can I answer all three? I want my heart to be a sponge, absorbing more of God. But it feels more like a rock, weighed down with the burdens of life and my own expectations of what life should be like. Lately I seem unable to absorb God - I am surrounded by Him, but nothing seems to seep in any more. Like a too full sponge. Perhaps I need to squeeze out some of God I have, share it with others so I can be filled again. Or maybe God, like He did with Pharaoh, has hardened my heart.

Father, transform this stone into a sponge once again. Help me to soak up more of you, more of this love and life you've given me, not so I can be full, but so I can share it with others.

Station #3 Praying for Haiti

I cannot imagine the devastation of their lives. So much loss. So much never to be repaired. I know of the tragedy, yet have done as much as I can to ignore it. I've donated money, given so others can help. But is that money spent so I don't have to think about it? Pray about it? I'm reminded of the Haitians I was blessed to work with back in high school youth group. They used to shout "Bene Swale Tarnell." (forgive my spelling) Praise the Lord. Such joy, even in the face of hardships having given up everything to come to our country. I pray, Father, you'll help those who have lost to find that joy, even in this tragedy.

Station #4 Lenten Tattoos

A reminder of the impermanence of this life. To dust we shall return. We are marked as God's to do with as He will. I do not fear death. But I do find I fear life. I was reminded this week that people with pets live longer lives and all I could think was, yet another reason not to have a pet. I've grown weary of searching for what this world can offer me. I need to look for what God is offering me.

Station #5 Fill a Bag

Paul speaks of learning the secret of being content in any and every situation. I wish he had taken the time to share that secret. Maybe it's this: only when we give away do we feel content. Only when we hold so lightly to this world can we find contentment in God.

Station #6 Honeymoon Adventure with Jesus

I like the idea of Lent being a time to fall in love with Jesus. I think it's the idea of a honeymoon that bothers me, mostly for selfish reasons, because I can't stop thinking what if this is the only honeymoon I ever have? I makes my heart hurt a bit to think about it.

What would it take for me to fall more in love with Jesus? More time with Him? More time remembering how He has blessed me? I feel like I need a second honeymoon more than a first. We're almost too familiar with one anohter, like a couple that's been together for so long they can finish one another's thoughts, anticipate on eanother's actions. How could I get away and remember what it was like to love the Lord my God with all my heart, mind, soul and strength?

Station #7 Stuff in Your Backpack

What's weighing me down on my journey? Fear. Lack of trust taht God is leading me somewhere worth going. Worry that I'll miss everything He wants for me to see because I'm too busy looking for what I want to see. It makes the journey much harder. Much less enjoyable. And yet I try to shoulder on through. The will never give me more than I can bear, right? But what about those bricks I put n my own backpack? What if I've given myself more than I can bear?

Station #8 The Mirror

This is the one station I truly dread. Before heading to the desert, Jesus heard the words, "This is my beloved. I am pleased with you. God wants to say the same to me. But I don't believe Him. I'm supposed to look in the mirror and say, "I am God's beloved. God loves Thurman. God is pleased with Thurman." But dare I do it if I don't believe it? The words don't come easy; neither does the belief. Won't I be lying if my heart isn't in it? My head may know, but my heart doesn't believe. This makes me feel ashamed, that I cannot trust this to be true.

Station #9 The Desert

I am no longer in the wilderness I was ten years ago. God brought me through that. But now I seem to be in a complacent place. I have no great battles in my life. I have no great temptations. My life stretches before me uninterrupted, unremarkable. What hope, then, remains for me?

Digging my toes into the sand I'm reminded of times of great joy, moments filled with hope for what lies ahead. The waves crashing on the shore, messengers from a time to come, telling me to hold on, everything is going to be all right. I need to dig my toes into the sand again. I need to listen for the hope washing up on my shore.

Station #10 Praying for Hobos

I offered up a prayer for those lost in loneliness, who feel disconnected from those around them. I am constantly reminded of Coupland's words, who said loneliness is the one thing we don't talk about. To confess to it is admitting a fault deep within oneself. People will avert their eyes from you lest they too catch this loneliness. May those who are lonely find eyes that meet theirs, that help them connect to a world that seems to ignore them. Give them love. The love they seek. The love they need.

waiting was a bad idea

2010-02-21T00:29:00.002-05:00

See, this is what procrastination gets you, young people. 12:30AM and I'm just now starting my 30 minutes of blog writing, which means no sleep until after 1:00AM and a greater chance of saying something incredibly stupid that I'll have to either take back or explain tomorrow.

Anyway...

Day started with watching Caprica and Spartacus: Blood and Sand. I really like Caprica - I think the way they're "humanizing" the Cylons is intriguing. Not at BSG level quite yet, but it's well done so far. Spartacus...well, we'll call it a guilty pleasure and leave it at that.

The only thing on my agenda today (if I kept such a thing) before Beyond Therapy was going out and buying some new jeans. The crotch has begun to fray on the pair I wear the most and while it's subtle now, it will pick the most inopportune time to explode into a full blown hole and I'd prefer to not have that happen. I toyed with breaking my ban on Old Navy because they were having a good sale on their jeans, but after talking with a friend, I decided to head to Kohl's and invest in some Levis, hoping they would last longer. The shopping itself was less painful than I anticipated - didn't take long and I even found a couple of shirts. But the getting there and getting back was out of my own personal hell. Have I mentioned lately how much I hate the traffic in suburban sprawl? Bleah.

Speaking of my own personal hell, I've gave some more thought to the article I posted last night and talked to a good friend about it all and realized that the dating scene they described is not designed for me. It's designed for douche bags and the women that love them to find one another. I mean honestly, that's not where I would find the kind of girl I'm interested in. But my friend then asked, so where is the beta dating scene? Bookstores? Coffee shops? Museums? And they're not really scenes - though perhaps if I started to think of them that way, I might discover more opportunities...Anyway, I'm not nearly as sad as I was upon first reading it (and let's be honest, I am the king of hyperbole and most everything I say should be taken with a grain of salt).

My friend also brought up an interesting point: these men (and women) that go out simply to hook up for sex are looked at as normal. However, when someone who is married does the same thing (Tiger Woods), they are seen as a sex addict. Double standard much?

I think I'm a little in love with Elizabeth Bennet. No, not the one from Jane Austen (though I could definitely be in love with her too). I mean the one from Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. Finally getting around to reading it. Brilliant. Simply brilliant. Fits into my enjoyment of all things mashed up. Not sure why it's been languishing so long on my shelf. Will probably finish it before the other book I'm currently reading: Blood's a Rover by James Ellroy. That one's taking a little longer to get through. Not because it's bad, but because it's a completely different style of reading.

First weekend of Beyond Therapy is over. Now comes the fun - playing a different role for the second weekend. First time I've ever done that. I've got some big shoes to fill - Dave does a great job in the role of Bob. Ted's done a good job of allowing us each to develop the character our own way - hopefully that won't throw of the rest of the cast members. Guess we'll find out on Thursday when we run the show with me as Bob. Little scary, I have to admit.

OK, I haven't written a whole lot here in 30 minutes. Fingers and brain moving a bit slow for obvious reasons. At least I get to sleep in tomorrow. Heading over to Taza to set up for Maproom tomorrow night at noon. It's focusing on falling in love with Jesus over Lent. Looking forward to spending some time listening tomorrow. Definitely could use it.

Though it's Sunday tomorrow and I'm not technically required to write according to Lenten tradition, I'll probably stop by anyway, if only to distract myself from the piles of grading waiting for me in my backpack. Until then.

sneaking it in under the wire

2010-02-19T23:54:00.002-05:00

According to the clock, it's still technically Friday, but only by five minutes. Just returned from opening night of Beyond Therapy. A small but enthusiastic crowd made it a good first show. And with revelry following, I was lucky to make it back in time. But I did.

Was trying to think of what I could write about all day (yes, I know Angela, if I had a project, it would be much easier). Had a wonderful rant in my head on the drive home in response to some accusations made about my beliefs, but the hour is too late and my brain is too tired and right now I don't give enough of a damn to write about it. So why don't we take the easy way out and simply meditate on various bits of flotsam and jetsam that have caught my attention lately.

I tweeted this earlier today, but if you're not on Twitter, you're missing out on one of the funniest "flame wars" I've ever seen. The unlikely partners in crime? Kevin Smith and Neil Gaiman. I happen to follow both of them, so I get to see them zing each other. I've laughed out loud several times. Explaining it will do no good - you have to read this stuff for yourself. A sample

Mr. Smith: Spells! Elixirs! Eyes of newt! Lots of one-eyed newts running around because @neilhimself uses potions on our women to soften their resolve!

Mr. Gaiman: @thatkevinsmith most of those Newts are actually pirates. The one-eyedness is nothing to do with me being a warlock.

This doesn't do it justice. But you get the idea. If this were a TV show, I'd watch it. Of course, then it would get canceled after only a handful of episodes like all the other TV shows I like.

More pop culture: I watched the documentary Anvil: The Story of Anvil this afternoon. More heartbreaking than anything else. Reminded me a bit of The Wrestler, only about a metal band. Watching their passion for what they are doing and realizing they're never going to get to live their dream was tough at times. You feel bad for them but then at the same time, I can see why they never quite hit it big like their contemporaries. If you like 80s metal or stories about people following their passions, check it out.

I'm in the process of trying to renew my five year license and I have a question: do other professions require a person to spend so much money simply to stay licensed? I mean, after paying for six hours of continuing ed, FBI background check and the $200 fee to pay for your new license, it could easily cost over $2,000. This seems a bit excessive to me. Just wondered if this was specific to education or if other professionals went through similar flaming hoops to keep their jobs.

Got my supplemental pay for coaching Academic Team this week and so I've been doing some research on my next major purchase - a flat screen TV. Looking in the 50" range, probably LCD. Beyond that, I'm still trying to figure out what brands are best and the best places to buy them. Any recommendations would be greatly appreciated.

My friend Rob posted an article yesterday, The New Dating Game, after talking to his sons who explained to him "douche bags have kidnapped dating" and "kind, loving, sexy people don't exist." After reading the article and the description the author gives of the dating scene, I realized:

I would hate going to clubs and bars if that's what they're like
As a quintessential beta male, I would be unsuccessful anyway
I'm going to die alone

I think I'm going to have to read it again to see if her argument holds up. I've known for quite some time that I'm nowhere near normal when it comes to dating (I'm so far away, normal is a mere speck on the horizon), but I didn't realize I was the antithesis of what women in the dating scene are looking for. Somewhat disheartening. It did remind me a bit of a line Celine says in one of my favorite movies, Before Sunrise:

You know, I have this awful paranoid thought that feminism was mostly invented by men so that they could like, fool around a little more. You know, women, free your minds, free your bodies, sleep with me. We're all happy and free as long as I can fuck as much as I want

I may have some more thoughts later, but right now it's far too late for me to hope for anything resembling coherent thought. Until next time...

"Great! Now I have guilt!"

2010-02-18T22:21:00.002-05:00

One day in and I've already disappointed the masses. I told you to lower your expectations, but did you listen to me? No, you did not. I'd apologize for not being as, shall we say, verbose as others who do this, but I'm not really that sorry. Quantity doesn't always mean better.

Not long ago while reading over some old journal entries (back when I used to do this in the privacy of my own Word document), I realized I used to write a lot more than I currently do. After some thought, I came to this conclusion - I don't find myself that interesting anymore. I mean really, to go on and on like I used to, for pages and pages - what was I thinking? If I'm bored writing about it, I can't imagine anyone else surviving to the end.

However, I will do my best to use my 30 minutes wisely and not get distracted by other things. No more checking email or Facebook while I'm typing. Just writing.

Some observations from my first "no music" commute:

You don't have to scream quite so loudly at the other drivers when there's no music to shout over; however...
What you do shout sounds painfully loud and clear without music to muddy it up. Which makes me cringe a bit more. Which hopefully will encourage me not to shout so much.
Staying focused will be the trick - with nothing to occupy my mind, it tends to wander about quite a bit. Some centering prayer will help.
The drive home is much worse than the drive to work, mostly because the persistent rush of the pavement under my tires is quite soothing and after a long day at school I...find...myself...dozing...off...

Looking forward to seeing how it goes for the rest of the time. Doesn't quite feel like a sacrifice at this point, but then this is more about my discipline than sacrifice. At least in my head it is.

I hope you got a chance to see the moon tonight. A sharp, crisp crescent poised to slice open the night sky and let it bleed. Quite beautiful hanging over the snow.

Final dress for Beyond Therapy went OK. Only one blogger showed so not quite the "audience" we'd hoped for, but it's all come together well. And I got some grading done (it's a Lenten miracle!) Per usual, I'm totally wired afterwards, which means sleep, which should be my companion in about 30 minutes, will probably be much farther away. I have a friend who believes my insomnia is tied to my being in plays. And I admit, my sleep patterns do tend to get jacked up during shows. But not sure it's much different than when I'm not in a show - a little more pronounced, perhaps. Couldn't fall asleep until nearly 1AM last night and then was up at 4:45AM, waiting for my alarm to go off. And then I couldn't get out of bed once my alarm did go off and I hit snooze for, well, ever. Someday I'll find a normal sleep pattern. Probably when I retire. Or die, whichever comes first.

OK, so that last little bit was a bit dark. Sorry.

It's usually at this point in my blog that I begin to write about the process of writing and how frustrating it can be (in fact, I wrote quite a few sentences about just that before deleting them and starting over). (And I just deleted some more - really, if I don't want to read them...). This is mostly why I stopped blogging in the first place - I don't have anything of importance to share. Yes, I know, the Buechner quote about talking about our lives and all that. But most of the time I feel I'm pissing into the ocean, hoping to raise the water temperature enough to take a swim (ponder that wonderful metaphor for a while. On second thought, don't). In this day and age of blogs and tweets and status updates and rants, what's one more voice in the din?

Rabbit trail much?

Tomorrow, in accordance with school policy, I will be administering the latest attempt to prove schools (and more specifically, teachers) are actually teaching (or not teaching, as the case may be) our students something. Forget the Ohio Graduation Test - that's so last decade. Here come the "end of course exams," designed to standardize learning and measure not simply how much a student knows, but also how much they have learned from year to year. Because as we all know (because we're told over and over and over and over and over again), all of the problems in the United States - the bad economy, the crime and violence, the crumbling social networks, dogs and cats sleeping together - can be traced back to our students not taking enough standardized tests. If only we could objectify...er, I mean...objectively prove students are learning, then we could live in the glorious utopia pastors, politicians and ETS wonks promise lies just beyond the the horizon. So grab your scantron and your number two pencil and join me as we lead...

Bleah. I can't even get up the energy to continue to be snarky.

See, half an hour has already passed and I'm not sure this is any longer than the last one. And I'm sure it's no more meaningful. Maybe someone should have made reading my blog their Lenten practice - it may be more of a sacrifice to do that than it is for me to write it. Time to go put on my nightly charade of pretending I'm going to fall asleep any time in the next 60 minutes. Or maybe I'll try and start watching my latest DVD from Netflix: Anvil: The Story of Anvil. Nothing like some hair metal to send you off to sleep.

Sorry for the lack of deep thoughts. Maybe this weekend. If you're lucky...

and so it begins again

2010-02-17T22:58:00.002-05:00

ahem...

I'm back.

We've begun once again the 40-day journey known as Lent. 'Tis a season for giving up. 'Tis a season for giving back. 'Tis a season for removing. 'Tis a season for reattaching.

So I'm reattaching to this here blog-thing again. Throwing out my thoughts. Spending time actually looking/listening to my life, to see/hear what I've been missing because I've been too busy to stop and be silent.

I'm sure I'll be a bit rusty here at first. Hopefully practice will make, if not perfect, then more interesting reading at the very least. I have no agenda, nothing specific I want to write about. These aren't meant to be Lenten thoughts, though I'm sure they'll creep in. My focus is on the discipline of writing. I just need to write, to rebuild those muscles I've let atrophy lately. All that to say: it might be best to lower your expectations.

As for Lent, I feared I would not find an Ash Wednesday service to attend. However, I remembered Christ Church Cathedral downtown usually did a 6:00 service, right about 5:35. Made it just in time. Good to go through the ritual, to listen to the words. Was struck by the phrase, "rend your heart" in the Joel 2 passage. Something to chew on over the next few weeks. The officiant seemed to bend over backwards to make his sermon as joyful and happy as possible. Like he was embarrassed the season called for penance or any searching of our souls. Heaven forbid we ask people to spend any time pondering less than happy thoughts.

Anyway, might as well answer the question on everyone's mind: what did I give up for Lent. Struggled a bit this year figuring out what God would have me sacrifice. Several friends gave me ideas, which I considered, some much more than others. I've done so many different fasts for Lent it becomes increasingly difficult not to repeat myself. I've given up my usual, chocolate. But I've also decided to give up listening to music on the way to and from work. I know, I know, sounds lame, but that's 50 minutes of silence I'll be adding to my day. Thought about giving up music altogether, but I did that a couple years ago and, so, I wanted to vary it a bit.

And obviously, I've added this bit of discipline to my life as well - you know, the writing of my thoughts in a blog. The plan is to write for 30 minutes, come rain or shine. We'll see how it goes. Depends on how focused I am how long that will end up being. Why do it in public like this? More of a chance I'll stick to it if I know people are reading. Too easy in a personal journal just to, you know, skip a day or two. Feel free to hold me accountable.

OK, I should be moving to bed (how I wish I could have given up my insomnia for Lent. Actually, I have a whole list of things I wish I could have given up for Lent, but that's a discussion for another time. Perhaps). Feel free to comment - just as I'll feel free to engage you in a discussion or not. Don't take it personally if I don't respond. Like I said, it's not really about what is said but the fact that I'm saying it at all.

Faretheewell.

thoughts on seeing Jenny Holzer's Protect Protect

2009-04-16T09:15:00.002-04:00

Protect me from what I want
All things are delicately interconnected
Ambition is just as dangerous as complacency

Silhouettes bask in the glow of these truths, lost in the challenges they present.

Being alone with yourself is increasingly unpopular
Being judgmental is a sign of life
Being sure of yourself makes you a fool
Chasing the new is dangerous to society
A charismatic leader is imperative
Life itself is not sacred
Romantic love was created to manipulate women
Spending too much time on self-improvement is anti-social
The most profound things are inexpressible
You are victim of the rules you live by
You have to hurt others to be extraordinary
A strong sense of duty imprisons you

The repetition of these words, the flashing stimulating the brain, bathing we here in the room in an other-worldly glow, our faces immobile yet ever-changing. We are transformed by the mere presence of these words - we need not read or believe them to change.

Emotional responses are as important as intellectual ones
Expiring for love is beautiful but stupid
If you can't leave your mark, give up
It's better to be lonely than to be with inferior people

The power of the word transforms all it touches - even when the words lose their meaning, what remains still has power. These flashing words stimulate, making couples want to express their love for one another, even when those words speak of the horror of rape. But for those of us with no outlet, we are left to scribble on the page.

Planning for the future is escapism
Sin is a means of social control

These words like rivers flowing, ever changing, their motion toward an unseen sea. If I step within them, they change and shift yet still remain the same. I no longer see the words but only their motion, the river but not the water.

This is what I imagine my unconscious looks like, a constant, unstoppable scroll of thoughts, desires, secrets, memories. But I lack the courage to display it to the world.

I am more moved by these phrases than the reality of what has happened in Iraq. Does this make me calloused? Or do I come to be challenged in a different way here? Everyday bureaucracy blown up larger than life makes me sad but does not change me. While it may be "the truth" about what has happened, it lacks the quality of Truth. Perhaps its that I do not need (want?) to be reminded how horrible war is for it seems obvious enough to anyone with a heart.
Æ

the power of dynamic planning

2009-04-13T16:39:00.002-04:00

So this morning, while wandering aimlessly around Chestnut Hill, I received a phone call from my friend Lauri. Lauri, who has been pestering me to come and visit for a couple of years now. Lauri who planted the seed for this wonderful spring break excursion in my head. Lauri who was kind enough to open up her couch for me to crash upon while I was traveling. Lauri who found out this morning that she needs to have her gall bladder removed. Today. So. Plans shift and change. I won't get to see her, but will still head to Jersey and do the park-n-ride thing. Much cheaper than trying to park in NYC. And not like I'll need my car once I get there anyway. Anne is kind enough to let me crash with her for a couple of extra nights. Good to have friends as flexible as you.

Today has been quite relaxing, which is the point of vacation after all. Did a bit of walking, a bit of eating, a bit of shopping. Brad's seminary's bookstore is going out of business and their books were on sale. Picked up The Emergent Manifesto and a Willimon book for $8.25. Brilliant. Am now chilling on the couch, waiting for Brad to return from dropping off the boys and Sarah to return from work. No idea what is planned for the evening, but will be good to relax with good friends.

So imagine this: you've woken up early in the morning and driven through the beauty of Amish country to avoid the toll roads, only to realize the estimated time given by Googlemaps is about 45 minutes off. You eventually arrive at your destination, only to determine the only parking is metered parking and it's seven minutes for every quarter. So you drop as much change as you have and walk through the pouring rain to meet your friend. It goes well as you catch up over the past 20 years and realize you're both still much the same as you were in high school, at least the essential parts of you. Older, but the connection is still there. You're both a little annoyed at having to leave every half an hour to feed the meter, but it makes the afternoon more memorable. You even throw caution to the wind and walk down to see the Liberty Bell - you see it, but don't have the time to gawk at all the history posted on screens down the hall. Some other day. By the time you say your goodbyes, the rain has abated and you smile and hope it doesn't take another 20 years to catch up again. And then you go your separate ways.

Now it's later, and you make it to Sarah and Brad's house just in time to head over to their Easter Vigil service where their son is being baptised. In the hustle and bustle of greetings, you forget one thing - you drank an awful lot at the coffee house where you met you friend Gabe and haven't used the restroom. And you don't remember until the priest has lit the Paschal candle from the flames and you make your pilgrimmage into the building for the reading of the lessons. For those unfamiliar with the Easter Vigil, it's a celebration of the way God has worked in the lives of His people throughout the Old Testament, the salvation stories from creation through the prophets and beyond in a series of twelve readings, usually followed by a song and a time of reflection for each one. They normally last about three hours. So by the time the Israelites have walked through the Red Sea on dry land (the third reading), my eyeballs are floating. But there's no way to get to the bathroom from where I am, so I focus on the readings and hope it all goes well. I'm fine until we march into the sanctuary for the baptismal. There, the minister says these words:

Holy God, holy and merciful, holy and mighty,
you are the river of life,
you are the everlasting wellspring,
you are the fire of rebirth.
Glory to you for oceans and lakes, for rivers and streams.
Honor to you for cloud and rain, for dew and snow.
Your waters are below us, around us, above us: our life is born in you.
You are the fountain of resurrection.
Praise to you for your saving waters:
Noah and the animals survive the flood,
Hagar discovers your well.
The Israelites escape through the sea,
and they drink from your gushing rock.
Naaman washes his leprosy away,
and the Samaritan woman will never be thirsty again.
At this font, Holy God, we pray:
Praise to you for the water of baptism and for your Word that saves us in this water.

To make matters worse, the entire time he says these words, he is pouring water from a pitcher into the baptismal font...very...very...slowly. I had to bow my head and fake an emotional response to keep from laughing out loud and having my own private baptism right there. Miraculously, I made it through and over to the bathroom without embarrassing myself or my friends.

My urination distraction aside, 'twas a lovely service - those gathered laughed at the lighter side of each of the stories and the variety of readers definitely added to the enjoyment. I highly recommend attending one if you haven't before. Put it on your calendar now.

More thoughts later, perhaps. Been an excellent trip so far - exactly the refreshment I needed. Here's hoping for more of the same.
Æ

drive by posting

2009-04-13T09:45:00.002-04:00

Great Easter weekend here in Philly. The Easter Bunny even found me and brought me a basket, first time in 25 years. The house is empty and I have much to write about, but I need to get out and about. Hopefully I'll find a spot here in Chestnut Hill to throw some words on the screen about the trip so far. First order of business, however, is find somewhere serving breakfast. Mmmmm. I did a quick google search, but think I'm simply going to walk and see what catches my eye. It's part of the adventure.

More later.
Æ

we're running with the shadows of the night

2009-04-11T09:07:00.003-04:00

This song has been stuck in my head since last night.

Saturday morning. My old friend insomnia stopped by last night and refused to let me go until well into the morning and then stopped back later just to be sure I hadn't missed him. Bastard. So I guess it's hotels in general I can't sleep in and not simply ones where I have to share a bed. Will definitely make this summer interesting.

A steady rain has moved in, which should make my trek to Philly much slower and moister. I'm meeting Gabe at Cafe Olé - hopefully it's not too crazy crowded and I can find parking with a minimum of hassle. I haven't seen Gabe since...just after high school? First year of college? I'm feeling a bit trepidatious (shut up spell check, it is too a word) about it. You never know what to expect. It's almost like meeting someone again for the first time - we change so much over the years we're basically new people. But I'd like to believe our core stays the same, that I'll be able to recognize a certain "Gabeness" in him. We'll see.

I'm reading Peter Rollins How (Not) to Speak of God. I already read his Fidelity of Betrayal and found myself challenged. Probably should have read this one first since I'm sensing it's more laying the foundation. Enjoying it so far, though I wish it were my own copy so I could highlight in it. May have to see about picking up my own copy soon. May throw some choice tidbits up as I read them.

OK, I should see about gathering my belongings up and getting them out to the car. Also need to stop by the front desk and make sure they take off the "safe" charge on my bill. Seriously - I get charged for something I didn't request? Suddenly I have "Master of the House" running through my head.

Next stop: Philly and the baptism of Evan.
Æ

shadows

2009-04-10T21:45:00.002-04:00

The day began in darkness as the buzzing above my head reminded me I wanted to make it to the 7:00 AM Good Friday service at Redeemer over in Hyde Park (or is it Oakley, I never can tell the difference). Showered, headed out, got there, only to find no one there and a sign proclaiming Good Friday services at noon and 7 PM. So much for the internet. So I drove and fueled up, went home and packed up and hit the road about 5 1/2 hours before my initial time. Might as well get to the hotel early to take full advantage of all the money I'm spending to sleep.

The trip itself was fairly uneventful - signs of spring abounded, but the day itself was a perpetual grey with smatterings of sunlight and sprinkles intermixed. I passed the time listening to music - the birthday mix Brian made for me (it rocked), the mix I made for others (not bad, if I do say so myself...and I do), and the new stuff I downloaded right before I left (including a brilliant musical called [Title of Show]. Hilarious, clever and highly recommended).

I made good time and great gas mileage and arrived in Mechanicsburg just before 6 PM. Generic Ramada Inn, but the place is mostly empty (yet the pool is always packed - go figure). My first goal was to find the St. Luke's Episcopal, which I had scoped out online and was having a Tenebrae service at 7 PM. Perfect. I checked email and FB (praise God for free wi-fi - and my new laptop) and headed to the heart of Mechanicsburg.

St. Luke's is your typical small Episcopal church - I was easily one of the youngest ones there. No one sat in my pew, which isn't surprising. But I quieted myself and focused on why I was there. Tenebrae is Latin for shadows and for the uninitiated, this service focuses on seven shadows associated with Good Friday, a candle representing each one and as each scripture is read, a candle is extinguished, the shadows growing darker and deeper until only the Christ candle remains. It then is removed and the congregation leaves in silence to contemplate the meaning of the death and betrayals celebrated through the scriptures and song. For my money, a far more moving service than your typical Easter cantata, especially since it forces you to actually deal with Christ's death instead of rushing to the resurrection.

Unfortunately, while they had the pieces, they missed the experience. The candles were extinguished, but the sanctuary lights were left on. The tables were covered with black, but the windows were not. The Christ candle never left but was only stashed behind the altar until the final song was sung and was brought back out. The reason? "The lit candle is then returned in the hope of spreading the light of the Gospel story through the disciples." Unfortunately, in the story, that doesn't happen for a few days. And instead of everyone leaving in silence, we wandered out, chatting about the weekend's plans.

Yet, I was still struck by the darkness of these shadows...Betrayal. Desertion. An Unshared Vigil. Accusation. Crucifixion. Death. The Tomb...and the echoes I find in my own life. Abandoning my trust in Him and turning to those things I can control. Staying silent when others mock my faith. Finding my own needs more important than waiting upon Him. Slapping Christ in the face and asking Him to tell me what comes next. Proclaiming Jesus King but taking marching orders from others. Standing at a distance, watching the work of the Kingdom. Wrapping Christ in spices to hide the hard truths about Him. These shadows remind me why we cannot simply jump ahead to Sunday - because for the time being, we live in the already/not yet. We cannot simply leave the lights on and disperse these shadows. We must find a way to live in them until the Light comes to take them away.

I also found myself fascinated by the ridiculousness of parts of this story. Judas saying, "Surely it is not I, Rabbi?" knowing full well it was. The disciples saying they would die with him and then bolting at the first sign of danger. Judas kissing (kissing!) Jesus to betray Him. An ear cut off. A follower, who for some reason was wearing only a linen sheet, running away naked. Such random moments. Why include these? Why didn't some later editor realize the silliness of much of this and take it out, tighten up the story, help the flow? Why not leave them in the shadows where they belong?

Oh right. Because that's where we live.
Æ

why am I not hungry?

2009-03-30T18:52:00.003-04:00

Nearly 7:00 PM and I'm not at all hungry. This does not bode well, for it probably means I will be hungry at some unhealthy time, like post 9:00 PM. My own fault, I suppose, for eating such a big lunch at Moe's. But it was for my birthday and it was the only time before my actual birthdate to take advantage of the coupon (free entreé - can't beat that).

Oh yeah, if you hadn't realized it, it's my birthday week. Yeah for me.

I'll try not to bore you with tedious details of entering my final year in my thirties and how different my life is than I imagined it, both the good and the bad, though it will somewhat depend on how the week goes I suppose. Not exactly providing the hope you need, am I? If it helps, I pretty much thought myself out this weekend, so odds are I won't have the brain power or the desire to type it all up this week. Consider yourself saved.

Our "Irish Wake" for Jeremy went well, though somehow I made it through the entire day without consuming any alcohol. Diet Coke, however, is another matter entirely. My friend Andrea S. was there and she is the only person I know who can drink more than I can, which is rather surprising. I thought my "drinking problem" was one of a kind. Anyway, great to see everyone and catch up and share memories and make some new ones. I was sure we were going to get kicked out of the cemetery - so much for a solemn occasion. Though definitely in keeping with our memories of Jeremy. I think he probably would have laughed loudly right along with us.

I still struggle with Jeremy's death, though not so much because he's gone, but my reaction to his death. I feel a sense of loss because he's gone, but I'm not sad so much for his absence as for his absence in the life of his friends. Seeing their reactions and how much they miss him is what hurts. So it's for them I mourn, not so much for my own sense of loss. Sometimes I feel like that's a bit calloused, like I don't care enough. Even having lost friends, death still feels distant to me, something I know happens to all but having little effect on me.

I'm sure I rambled on this stuff two years ago, too, so forgive the rerun. Didn't help that our lectio last night was on the raising of Lazarus. Nice timing, that. Seeing Jesus' reaction to losing his friend, his anger (!) and being troubled made me question my own reactions. Actually, considering the season, I'm surprised my mind has wandered over these questions more often. Two more weeks of Lent. Not sure how the journey's gone - I've removed the distractions, but as mentioned before, haven't really filled them up with anything significant.

Still not hungry. This is not good. I'm tempted to find something to eat, to make sure I'm not eating right before I go to bed. But not being hungry, I have no idea what that might be.

OK, so I've been looking at laptops. Gina's looking to buy one to replace her old laptop and in the process of helping her I find myself thinking, "Hmm, maybe I should pick one up, too." I did get my taxes finished (finally) so I could probably afford a cheap one, even after throwing a huge check at my remaining consumer debt. And it would be good to have this summer when I'm stranded in Nazarenedom with iffy computer access as far as I know. And no, I won't be getting anything with an apple on it - for what I need, any Mac is simply overkill and would merely be a status symbol showing everyone how cool I am at three times the price of a functional PC. Oh, I'm sorry, did I type that out loud?

Time to walk away from the screen and figure out a plan for dinner. Bleah. Still no idea.
Æ

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Now playing: Primus - Eleven
via FoxyTunes

beware! this blog's gone sporadic!

2009-03-24T21:30:00.005-04:00

So obviously I am in a season of random blogging at best. No rhyme, no reason, only when I feel like it. I suppose that's not too different than what I normally do, only I seemed to be much more consistent. Not sure if that's a good thing or not.

Pet peeve of the week - saw another national ad using the word less when it should be fewer. I know, less is more punchy and to the point. It's also wrong. No wonder our country can't speak its own tongue.

Social faux pas of the week: so our housechurch combined with the Rogers housechurch for some fellowship and so we could try to take care of some of the brush in my back yard by burning it in a fire barrel. All went well for about an hour, when my neighbor came out and complained that the fire was too close to his house and he'd be happy to call the fire department and let them know we were illegally burning stuff. So, being the non-confrontational person I am, I grabbed a bucket of water and threw it on the fire and called an end to it. I'm sure Steve was right and that I wasn't doing anything wrong, but why antagonize neighbors who probably don't like me anyway? It's times like these I wonder if I'm made to live in a neighborhood. You know, around other people.

Over halfway through Lent - I gave up chocolate (as usual) and TV, which is not at all usual. Haven't really missed it much, though trying to catch up on it all on Sundays doesn't always work. The problem is, I haven't found a constructive way to fill the time. Not sure I could say what I have done - probably more time online. The goal was to remove distractions, which I did, but don't feel I've redeemed the time so to speak. Sure, I've read more, but wonder if I should do more. Geesh, guilt-ridden much?

So last week for artwalk I spent some time in the Surrealism exhibit. If you're in the Cincy area, I highly, highly recommend it. Great stuff from the Jerusalem museum in its only North American appearance. Here are some random thoughts I had, both last week and on Saturday:

Unlike much of what passes for modern art, surrealism I get - the physical expression of the unconscious. Like dreams, we often cannot explain them, but they are felt and experienced all the same. Reason takes a back seat and we bypass the logical and see how it feels. We find within that which we can almost identify, but it slips through our fingers as soon as we try to grasp it. The familiar shifts to the left and suddenly what we thought we knew is something new altogether. Lines blur or disappear or become impossibly thick, breaking boundaries, opening us up to a new way of seeing. The colours seem brighter, more real than the muted ones we see in real life. Like our dreams, these images lie closer to the truth than our rational minds can grasp. These images force us to stare - with nothing solid to hold on to, our eyes try to make sense of what they see, but as soon as we think it makes sense, it slides and shifts, leaving only impressions, not knowledge.

Later...

These images, like half-remembered dreams captured on canvas - they remind me of moments thought forgotten. I do not understand the image, yet I connect with it. You do not explain these - you experience them. Like God, they resist category, resist examination. They are and we find ourselves examined by them. And whatever they elicit from us speaks more of who we are than of what they are.
Æ

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Now playing: Pomegranates - This Land Used To Be My Land, But Now I Hate This Land
via FoxyTunes

a parable

2009-03-16T21:47:00.002-04:00

All his life, James wanted to be a writer, though he forgot the moment he fell in love with writing. It seemed pen and paper surrounded him most of his life. But he vividly remembered the first time he let anyone read his writing. He was ten years old, in the semi-darkness of his neighbor Suzy’s shed. He watched her face anxiously as she mouthed his words. What she would think? Would she like them? Her eyes caught his, then looked down. “It’s nice. Want to get some ice cream?”

He didn’t share his writing much after that.

Not that he stopped writing. He spent hours furiously scribbling in notebooks, on scraps of paper, wherever he could find a waiting surface. And often he imagined sharing these words. But he remembered the look in Suzy’s eyes and feared to see it again.

But as junior high passed and high school came, his confidence grew. One summer night, he’d almost shown one of his sonnets to a lovely girl in the backseat of a Camaro. But cowardice won out and by the time he found the courage again, she found her way to someone else’s backseat. Eventually, though, the stars aligned and he presented his good friend Anna one of his notebooks. And this time, the look he saw in her eyes as she read left him hopeful. She actually seemed to like them. Finally, joy! But after a while, James got nervous leaving his writing in someone else’s hands, even hands that seemed to like his words. So with many tears, he asked for their return. And, realizing his mistake, spent the next year trying to give them back. But the moment had passed.

Despairing, he talked to older, wiser friends who offered him encouragement, telling him to be patient, that now was not his time. Wait for college, they’d say. There you’ll flourish. There you’ll find yourself published. Then all those who rejected your words will realize what they missed and wish they hadn’t squandered their opportunity. James brightened up and eventually packed up all his notebooks and headed off to college with hope in his heart.

Over the next several years, James gave his writing away to waiting eyes, ever hopeful that this would be the one. But the one never seemed to materialize. Sometimes they returned the notebooks, unopened. Sometimes they enjoyed them for a while, but then got bored and gave them back. Sometimes they found someone else’s writing more appealing. He heard a myriad of excuses, but soon they all began to sound the same: “Your poems and stories, they’re nice enough, but…I was hoping for something more.”

James couldn’t understand – all around him, others were finding readers that understood their writing, even writers he felt weren’t nearly as gifted as he was. How was it so easy for some to share, to find readers that got them? How were they getting published when he could barely get anyone to look at his manuscripts? Why couldn’t he find connection with someone? Why didn’t others love his stories, his poems, his musings?

After years of struggling, holding on to hope, James found himself one night reading through his notebooks. As his eyes crept across the pages, it became all too clear, so clear he couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it before. Maybe the problem didn’t lie in finding someone to like his writing. Maybe the problem lay in the writing itself. He’d always been told he was a good writer, that someday it would happen, someday he would get published. But sitting there by the light of a single candle, the truth became apparent: he wasn’t much of a writer. And he never would be. It made sense: if he had any ability or talent, it would have happened by now. Not everyone is born with the gift and better to realize this now and find what his gift was than trying to be something he could never be.

Without a word, he gathered up his notebooks, his pens, his pencils and shoved them into a box. He made his way down the basement stairs and placed them on a shelf next to some old clothes he kept meaning to take to Goodwill. With a final sigh, he walked back up the stairs, wondering what waited for him now, the box abandoned to the darkness. Æ

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Now playing: The Hold Steady - Lord, I'm Discouraged
via FoxyTunes

not so easy

2009-03-11T20:04:00.002-04:00

I thought I would easily get back into the swing of blogging again, but I seem to have hit a wall of some sort. Every time I sit down to write, it all seems so trivial and unimportant. Why bother putting drivel out there. There's plenty of it to go around nowadays. But if I wait until I'm "inspired," who knows when I'll post again.

And honestly, is anyone out there interested in a blow by blow recounting of the trials and joys of my days? Surely I've been absent long enough that those who were using this blog as a means of keeping in touch with my life have moved on. And what kind of picture are they getting of my life anyway when I mostly use this space to bitch and moan? Not a complete picture at the very least.

Maybe it's time to put an end to this season of my life. I have found other ways to get my writing fix, other places to rant and rave. It was nice to scream into the void for a while, but maybe I'm in a different place now. Or maybe I was always in this place, only I didn't realize it. Or maybe I'm just in one of my moods and should shut up.

My lent so far has not been as focused as I had hoped. Giving up TV has left me with a lot more miscellaneous time on my hands, which I've been filling with reading and a little writing. But am I doing what I'd planned, which is actually finding/seeing God's face? Or am I simply filling the space left by one distraction with another? I do find myself doing a lot more thinking lately, which isn't always a good thing. I end up chasing my tail and convincing myself of things that aren't necessarily true.

Sunday night at Thinplace we looked at the Transfiguration and I journalled about what it is that terrifies me and I came up with a long list. Actually, it terrified me just how terrified I am. Not the fears we usually talk about - spiders, snakes, heights. These are ones I've been wrestling with for quite a while, ones I've not seen go away. And after I had written them down, I realized I had no one I could - or would - share them with.

Which makes me a little sad.

Look, maybe it's the season of life. Maybe all this is fairly normal, though I sense not much about my life could be considered normal. Maybe this too will pass. But what if it doesn't? What if this isn't a phase but is simply the next part of life and I need to stop hoping it will change and get used to dealing with what it is? Perhaps at this point it's too late to keep hoping each day will be different and realize my energy is better spent making the best of each day.

Which makes me a little sad. Æ

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Now playing: Soul Coughing - Screenwriter's Blues
via FoxyTunes

not intending to tease

2009-02-28T11:11:00.003-05:00

So much for aspirations of writing every day of Lent. Blame end the end of the trimester. And being in a show. And simple a growing tendency to become easily distracted.

Last night was our third show. We're almost halfway through now. The performance felt the tiniest bit off, though I don't know if that means my perception was off or if we were off. I know I caught myself anticipating lines and actions last night, spoiling my performance. Hopefully not enough that anyone else noticed, though most likely if they did, it was an unconscious awareness. Will need to focus tonight to make sure it doesn't happen again.

Lots of friends and family in the audience last night - my parents; the Ball's; Russ, an old friend from college I haven't seen in about 20 years; Angela, Izaac and Sophie; one of my students and his mom. I came out after the show to chat, but kept getting distracted. Like I said, it all felt a little off. Combined with the usual post-show buzz, I probably came across as rude and uncaring. 'Twas not my intention, but I couldn't seem to track anything. Mea culpa.

Nothing officially planned for the day - I've started some much-needed laundry and need to sit down and finally gather all my tax materials together. No grading today - Saturday is my sabbath from all things school, even when I have piles still to go like I do. One day a week seems reasonable. I was going to try and grade last night during the show, but that didn't happen, which is probably good for all involved. The last thing you want is a distracted teacher grading your essays.

Maybe it's the greyness of the day, but my daily life seems to lack the lustre you'd want if you're going to share it with the world. Events of the past several days, weeks, run through my head, but none seem interesting enough to share. Or they seem self-indulgent (yes, I know the whole idea of a blog is in itself self-indulgent, but you know what I mean). This is what kept me away for so long. Nothing worse than having your own mundaneness and selfishness confirmed in public. And I don't dare open the door to my thoughts because I don't understand them most of the time and can't imagine what they would look like to outsiders.

Maybe I'm beginning to lose my mind.

Gee, aren't you glad you decided to check back in and see if I was writing? Time to stop.
Æ

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Now playing: The Dust Brothers - This Is Your Life
via FoxyTunes

what I've left undone

2009-02-25T21:45:00.002-05:00

We start with a confession - forgive me, for I have sinned. It's been 56 days since my last post. This was an unintentional sabbatical. No forethought, it simply turned out this way. For some reason, my thoughts didn't feel worth posting. I know, I know, it's never stopped me before. But it did this time.

I'm not sure I have anything of significance to share tonight, either, but it's Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent, and I thought I throw a handful of my thoughts at the screen and see what didn't disappear into the void.

At Thinplace Sunday night, this phrase from Psalm 27:11 jumped out at me: "Seek my face." This is what I wrote about it at the time:

I imagine the scene - waiting at the airport terminal (heh - I wrote "terminable" originally), anxiously scanning the crowd as they come out the door, looking for the one we love. The crowd is filled with a myriad of faces, ones we could easily fall in love with or in lust with, faces whose eyes tell stories we long to hear. But not today. Today we long to see our beloved's face, the one whose absence has caused an ache deep within us. And oh the joy when we find them! Our entire demeanor transforms, our breath shortens and with a fierce determination, we begin pushing through the crowd. And then they see us and we see our own adoration reflected in their expression as they too begin to move toward us, oblivious to the many many bodies between us, intent only to find ourselves in one another's embrace. And there, arms wrapped around each other, we trace the contours of our beloved's face with our eyes, hoping to burn this memory into our consciousness forever. Like Peter on the mountain top, we proclaim it is good to be here. But like him we cannot stay, we must leave, hand in hand with our beloved.

When you're in love, every other face dims before the beloved. We stare at the brightness of their face and discover just how shabby everything else appears. The beloved is transfigured and we will never look at the or the rest of the world the same way.

This is my prayer for this season of Lent, that by seeking His face, I will be unable to see the world quite the same. I've begun by seeking to remove distractions from my life, those other "faces" that threaten to pull my focus away. No TV this year, which should give me more time to write down my thoughts here. But it's more than getting rid of distractions. I was reminded Sunday night and again tonight with the reading of Isaiah 58, that part of seeking His face means finding His face in the face of those who hungry, those who are thirsty, those who are naked, those who are imprisoned, those who are oppressed. Only when love is turned outward can it truly light up the darkness. Only then can we fall into the arms of the beloved.

I have miles to go on this Lenten journey. And I know it will not be easy. But I also know it will be worth it. Æ

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Now playing: The Pains of Being Pure at Heart - Orchard of My Eye
via FoxyTunes

a final haiku

2008-12-31T17:26:00.000-05:00

i will not be sad
to see this year disappear
leaving hope behind
Æ

Christmas Eve musings

2008-12-24T19:37:00.002-05:00

Not sure how much musing will actually go on, but it is Christmas Eve and I am actually sitting down to type up something similar to musings. Probably won't provoke too many thoughts - not even provoking my own thoughts at the moment. But it seems like I ought to at least say something...

Ought. There's a word that's been haunting me lately.

Not feeling much like Christmas today. Rain and miserably warm temperatures definitely part of that. Didn't help that my scheduled trip to heaven turned out less than ideal. To quote a wise man from the north, "My head looks like something Picasso painted." I know it's the day before Christmas and all, but did you not hear me when I said, "Please leave the front longer?" Too busy worried about getting to the myriad of Christmas Eve events planned for after work I guess. I know. Hair grows. There are far worse problems. But my hair has never been this short. Never. A friend of mine broke into laughter upon seeing me. I don't blame them. At least I'll bring a little joy to people's lives this Christmas.

A friend (not the one who laughed at me) has been feeling a bit blue this Christmas and asked how I fought the blues. And I realized I don't fight them. Takes too much energy and you end up feeling worse. Better to give in and become friends with them, take them down to the local pub and buy them a drink or invite them over to watch some sad movie or sit in the dark and listen to some melancholy music. Love your enemies, the Bible says and I find myself doing that, befriending the blues. Not sure it works for everyone, but it works for me (though I'm sure some would say it doesn't work so well...).

If it hasn't become obvious yet, been a fairly low-key Christmas break so far. Started off well - three Over the Rhine shows, a fairly clean house full of guests, good times spent with friends, Christmas tree finally up. Still, been struggling with my usual nemesis this time of year - to quote the poet, "The worst kind of lonely/Is alone in December." All the gatherings, the concerts, the parties, the services, reminded me how much my heart longs to share them with someone. Not to sell my friends short, which I probably am (and for that I'm sorry), but sometimes you long for a hand to hold, to make the darkness seem not so dark because their heart brightens the hidden parts of you.

Of course, I had a hand to hold last year during Christmas and I can't say it made it any brighter. Oh wait, I'm not allowed to talk about that. Moving on...

Christmas Eve service tonight at 11:00. Mom and dad talked about coming down, but with the gross weather, they decided to stay in Dayton. I don't blame them - I wouldn't have wanted to drive all the way here, either. I'm looking forward to being quiet for a bit, listening to the stillness of the night, trying to remember why it is we actually celebrate this season. Phyllis reminded us at the conference that this season is all about the Incarnation - God becoming man, entering into our world and thereby transforming it, showing us what we could become, what we were created for. Forget the stars and the angels and the shepherds and the myth of a silent night (seriously, it was noisy in and around that manger). God became flesh. God became us. Us, with our weaknesses and our selfishness and our tendency to forget what is truly important. And by doing so, He showed us what we could be, reminded us of what it means to be in the image of God. And we've been trying to live up to that for 2000 years. As well we should.

Enough for now. Not sure when I'll be back- been less than inspired lately. We'll see how it goes.
Æ

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Now playing: Prince - Another Lonely Christmas (12")
via FoxyTunes

is re-posting the same as re-gifting?

2008-12-15T21:47:00.003-05:00

I'm sure this is something I've posted before. But last night at Thinspace we chatted about Luke 2, the inspiration for this poem. It's one of the pieces I'm proud of because it turned out much like it was in my head when I thought of it. I now have a companion piece I'm working on, after our discussion last night. Here's hoping I find time to work on it. In the meantime, enjoy.

ποιμένας

abiding here in shadow-swept darkness
surrounded by the keep of my watch
ever searching the frozen horizon for signs
a glimpse of reflected fire in an unwelcome eye
the subsensular growl upon a midnight clear
i wait as always in the glooming mist
the stars alone my singular companions

the mind it drifts like winter here
thoughts dispersed upon the breeze
condensed to droplets, a veil before my eyes
distorting what little light remains
reflected from the city below me lying
life is lived within its walls
warmth and passion i only know
through frosted window pane
the swirling smoke from a well-loved hearth
like prayers raised to a God of love
and grace and truth and beauty and hope and
i wonder why my little fire
lights and warms only me

and suddenly she happens
shredding the darkness round about
peeling back my night-stained world
to leave her only in the wake
i stand beauty-struck dumb
my heart a feral beast bound
blindly seeking space without
the first Adam’s cage
like my thoughts i scramble backwards
(as i always seem to do)
only to fall down, sore afraid

fear not! she cries in such a voice
compliance tends impossible
her presence enough to send me
clambering to the night for
i fear to taste the love she pours
from fingertips stretched to cool my raging tongue
i fear to touch such suppleness
and lose myself within her open grace
i fear the fragrance of her invading all i am
‘til truth alone remains
i fear to see her severe beauty reminding me
this other Life by life obscured
but most of all i fear to hear the siren-song of hope
crouched hiding ‘neath her tidings of joy

for unto me is born this day in her
salvation long-expected, long-forgotten
wrapped in rags of radiant splendor
and lying in a bed
somewhere in the teeming city
dimmed by glory flinging
hallelujahs in the night
it comes to pass when she is gone
my eyes mere pinpricks growing wide
i rise with haste to seek
peace, good will, hope newborn
lying still there in the dark

and all these things shall i keep kept
to ponder in my desert heart
Æ

Facebook is ruining my blogging

2008-12-11T07:47:00.001-05:00

Thurman wishes he had the time to write out the thoughts he had during last week's The Great Emergence conference but finds no time to do so.
Æ

advent goodness from Uncle Fred

2008-12-02T21:32:00.002-05:00

Because this stuff is too good to keep to oneself. And because I've been quite aware of the darkness lately.

Give us grace that we may cast away the works of darkness, and put upon us the armor of light, now in the time of this mortal life in which thy son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility: that in the last day, when he shall come again in hi glorious majesty, to judge both the quick and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal.

All the paradoxical themes of Advent are compressed into that handful of words: Christ coming at Christmas time in great humility and again at the end of time in glorious majesty - Christ coming as a child to save us and as a king to judge us - mortal life, immortal life. They clatter against each other like shutters in the wind with all their points and counterpoints. They all but deafen us with their message at one and the same time of sin and grace, justice and mercy, comfort and challenge. "Cast away the works of darkness," they say, and put on "the armor of light." Maybe those are the words that best sum up the paradox of who we are and where we are. Somewhere between the darkness and the light. That is where we are as Christians. And not just at Advent time, but at all times. Somewhere between the fact of darkness and the hope of light. That is who we are.

"Advent" means "coming" of course, and the promise of Advent is that what is coming is an unimaginable invasion. The mythology of our age has to do with flying saucers and invasions from outer space, and that i s unimaginable enough. But what is upon us now is even more so - a close encounter not of the third kind but of a different kind altogether. An invasion of holiness. That is what Advent is about.

What is coming upon the world is the Light of the World. It is Christ. That is the comfort of it. The challenge of it is that it has not come yet. Only the hope for it has come, only the longing for it. In the meantime we are in the dark, and the dark, God knows, is also in us. We watch and wait for a holiness to heal us and hallow us, to liberate us from the dark. Advent is like the hush in a theater just before the curtain rises. It is like the hazy ring around the winter moon that means the coming of snow which will turn the night to silver. Soon. But for the time being, our time, darkness is where we are.

The Clown in the Belfry
Frederick Buechner

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Now playing: Sufjan Stevens - O Come, O Come Emmanuel
via FoxyTunes

a little holiday levity

2008-11-25T23:38:00.002-05:00

1. Put your iPod on shuffle. (Or you can write whatever comes on the radio.)
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS!

WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
Love is Blindness - Cassandra Wilson

WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
Hanging on to You - Jay Farrar

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE?
Tear Off Your Own Head (It's a Doll Revolution) - Elvis Costello

WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
Eric's Trip - Sonic Youth

WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
Do You Love Me? - Clem Snide

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
Brown Eyes - Red House Painters

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
Things That Disappear - Rhett Miller

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Lie Still, Little Bottle - They Might Be Giants

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Slow and Steady - Pedro the Lion

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Wild Blue - The 77s

WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Well OK - Altar Boys

WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Another Song - Sam Phillips

WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
Ticket to Ride - The Beatles

WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
A Girl in Port - Okkervil River

WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
Way Over Yonder in the Minor Key

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
Be Still My Beating Heart - Sting

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
Faded Flowers - Shriekback

WHAT'S THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN?
Gone - U2

HOW WILL YOU DIE?
Do Or Die - Dropkick Murphys

WHAT IS THE ONE THING YOU REGRET?
The Little Cowboy- Erin McKeown

WHAT MAKES YOU LAUGH?
Out of Control - U2

WHAT MAKES YOU CRY?
Excuse Me While I Break My Own Heart - Whiskeytown

WILL YOU EVER GET MARRIED?
Shaker - Yo La Tengo

WHAT SCARES YOU THE MOST?
Hotwax - Beck

IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN TIME, WHAT WOULD YOU CHANGE?
Flugufrelsarinn - Sigur Ros

WHAT HURTS RIGHT NOW?
Bad - U2

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Now playing: U2 - Bad
via FoxyTunes

getting what we deserve

2008-11-24T22:04:00.003-05:00

This is always a goofy week. Two days of classes, with a good 15-20% of students already gone for the holidays. It's only school - why bother having my student show up? Anyway, today was easy - two bells of lab time, two bells of test taking. I even covered for Kurt who fell to the projectile vomiting his offspring passed along to him. The joys of childrearing.

As we enter this holiday season (and notice I said enter, as in not yet - holiday season doesn't start until Thanksgiving, ads and displays in grocery stores be damned), I'm feeling much like one of George Romero's creations - gruesome and slow with a desire to feed off the living. In other words, business as usual around ths blog. Hard to believe only a year ago I was anxiously anticipating the holiday season and the joys it would bring. Of course, this is before it all went spectacularly wrong.

Been pondering the word deserve lately from a multitude of sides. Rob brought this up during Thinspace a couple of weeks ago, how we're paralyzed by this word. Many of us think we haven't gotten what we deserve, that this world, our God, owes us. Health. Love. Wealth. Our hearts' desire. Many of us think we have gotten something we didn't deserve - a broken relationship, a shattered dream, a raw deal. And then there are those of us who believe we don't deserve anything - not comfort, not security, not success, not love. Where do these ideas come from? How is this concept of what we deserve formed within us? How do we come to such differing conclusion on what it is we deserve?

It will come as no surprise to my regular reader that my struggle is with the last of this unholy trinity - I've come to believe that I don't deserve anything. Check that - I don't deserve anything good in my life. My martyr complex is well-documented and this is part of that, I suppose - we are created for suffering, not for pleasure; we should meet suffering with the same joy we meet blessing; we should not be surprised or saddened when disappointment enters our lives. While I know intellectually this is a steaming pile of feces, emotionally it continues to cripple me. It's difficult to live passionately when you not only expect life to suck, but believe that's the way life is supposed to be. It's hard to hold on to the things you love when you don't believe they're truly yours.

Strangely enough, my view on this works the other way for other people. I see my friends suffering through illness and job anxiety and divorce and believe they don't deserve to be going through all that. And even when the suffering comes from their own choices, I find myself wishing the consequences away, asking for God's grace to step in, to bring them joy. Why can I not do this for myself? Why is God's grace good enough for them but not for me?

Too often we reduce grace to this idea of what we deserve - we all deserve to be punished for our sins and shortcomings, but God gives grace and takes away the punishment. He's the great executioner deciding not to drop the axe on our deserving necks. But this makes grace no more than a means to an end - a way to avoid what should happen to us. But I don't believe God desires this utilitarian view of grace. Grace isn't ultimately about us - it's ultimately about how God interacts with His creation, fallen as it may be. God doesn't just extend grace to us - He is grace to us.

I pray I can remember that this holiday season. I pray we all can remember that.
Æ

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Now playing: Neko Case - Christmas Card from a Hooker in Minneapolis
via FoxyTunes

respice

2008-11-19T22:13:00.004-05:00

Respice

begging in the darkness alone
hearing the movement
the excitement all around
wondering what all the chaos is about
they tell me what it is
why the crowds clamor
why the joy, the surge of hope
but my eyes
my damned eyes
will not open
i want but cannot see
i know Him
i know who He is
what He can do

"Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner!"

the voices in my head attempt to drown me out
be quiet!
your crying drowns out our joy
don't drag us down
let us praise Him!
let us sing!
how dare you ruin on our parade
how dare you steal this moment

"Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner!"

i've been silent too long
content to let others experience His presence
willing to sit on the sidelines
happy just to know such joy exists
even if i cannot see it myself
what good is dancing if i cannot see my partner?
what good is hoping when only darkness lies ahead?
and so i scream from my darkness, hoping beyond hope

"LORD JESUS CHRIST, SON OF GOD, HAVE MERCY ON ME, A SINNER!"

and all

becomes

still

something has changed around me
the sweet chaos of the moment fades
into an otherworldly silence. no longer
do the voices condemn. no longer
do the crowds distract. no longer
am i lost in the midst of what i cannot have
all is stripped away
leaving only me in darkness
Him in stillness
nothing moves
nothing stirs
and from this space of unimaginable peace
i hear the question that haunts

"What do you want Me to do for you?"

all creation belongs to Him
His is not an empty offer
i know within me He will
give me whatever i ask
my mind spins
the stillness of the moment is shattered
by the swirling of my wants and desires
all shouting for supremacy
all seeking to be the answer

ask for wealth!
ask for wisdom!
ask for peace!
ask for love!

yet at the center of this holy moment
a whisper rises within my soul
until it can no longer be ignored
and in a cracked and raspy voice
i lay my deepest desire at His feet

"Lord, let me see again
let me know Your presence
let this darkness blinding me
be swept away. save me from relying
on second-hand experience, living vicariously through
what others see
what others experience
i once tasted this life
i remember the glory of the sky
the splendor of the earth
the wonder of a smile
the devastation of a tear
the burn of a stare
help me, Lord, remember them again
help me, Lord, recover what i've lost
help me, Lord, not only to see
but to live again"

the crowd, still silent
the air anticipatory
all creation lingers, fingers crossed
as i wait with outstretched arms
nothing left to lose
all the world to gain
and in that holy silence
i hear Him draw a breath
as He did at the beginning of time
ready to transform
this sightless lump of clay once again
to bring me back to life
back to the love and life and joy i once knew
He exhales and i feel him breathe into my darkness
the words i've longed to hear...

receive
your
sight...
Æ

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Now playing: Death Cab For Cutie - This Temporary Life
via FoxyTunes

it's pronounced doo-MAHS

2008-11-13T20:14:00.003-05:00

The story so far: due to his inability to accurately judge the amount of time necessary to adequately grade all the work he assigned over the trimester, our intrepid hero found himself entering the final week of class buried under a cavalcade of ungraded papers and assignments that threatened to drive what remains of his tenuous sanity into the nether regions of hell itself. Every new day brought frustrations and tortures galore as the piles seemed unchanged, perhaps even growing slightly. But as he woke on this final day, a flicker of light danced in the distance, through the remaining papers and essays, and for the first time in weeks he began to believe all was not lost.

Our hero is monumentally stupid, as will soon be proven.

After a few snatches of sleep, this beleaguered man stumbled into his waiting chariot and made his way to the school to finish off the final stack waiting for him there. Finish these, he thought, and only the final essays will stand between me and sweet freedom. He finished a good chunk of them in the stillness before the first exam. He fought through distractions during first bell and entered the final exam period on his schedule needing only to finish a smattering of research papers. As his second bell students finished his far-too-easy final, he scribbled furiously, scratching the scores down on a makeshift grade sheet until, just before the bell rang, only two papers remained. He passed back his student's work, impressed with his grading acumen, and gathered the remaining flotsam and jetsam scattered on his desk to deal with during his planning period. He felt the weight lift from his shoulders. A sense of peace waited for him, only minutes away, in the office he shared with his fellow teachers.

It was there, in that cramped, windowless polygon of brick that it all began to fall apart. As our exhausted champion sifted through the pile of miscellaneous detritus he brought with him, he could not locate the makeshift score sheet he had used to record the grades. Thinking he had left it back in his classroom, he made a trek through the empty halls back to the third floor to retrieve it from his desk.

Of course, it was not there.

Panic setting in, he cast about, searching every inch of his room, every nook and cranny where such an important piece of paper could hide, trying not to disturb the students taking their final exam and giving him concerned looks. He thrust his hands into the recycling box, hoping to find the elusive artifact amidst the discarded student work callously dumped there after his charges had noted their grade. Nothing. He retraced his steps back to the office, scanning the floor for any sign, any glimpse of his red marks next to student's names, to no avail. From the depths of his soul came a dark rush of nausea, colliding with the ominous cloud of despair, forming a swirling maelstrom of impending madness somewhere in the vicinity of his suddenly impotent brain. His world turned black. The grades he had so diligently finished were gone, vanished forever, never to be seen again.

The questions came crashing in. What had happened to it? What would he do? What could he do? What would happen to the final grades he had to turn in that weekend? Could he remember what they had earned? Could he reconstruct the morning's efforts? What if he made a mistake? He wandered the halls, clenching and unclenching his useless hands, imagining nightmare scenarios involving parent complaints, administration censure, loss of employment and managing a Wendy's franchise.

Eventually the students were freed from the farce of finals, leaving him alone in his ransacked room, wondering what to do next. He stared at the empty spaces in his gradebook, knowing not how they would ever be filled now. The darkness of the situation continued to haunt him, leaving him hopeless, directionless, useless. Slowly it became clear what he must do - he must face up to his error and reach out to the ones he had let down through his own irresponsibility and negligence. With a deep breath to quiet the storm in his head, he grabbed the keyboard lying on the desk and typed up an email to all those affected by his asininity, students and parents alike, asking for their forgiveness and their final grade, if they had not already carelessly trashed them.

So now he waits, saddened by the evidence of his own incompetence, hoping tomorrow finds his inbox filled with the redemption needed to put this horrible experience behind him and to enter the new trimester with the opportunity and determination not to screw up this stupendously ever, ever again.

Good luck with that, dumbass.
Æ

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Now playing: Extreme - Comfortably Dumb
via FoxyTunes

"This is our moment. This is our time."

2008-11-05T00:47:00.002-05:00

Barack Obama is the President-elect of the United States of America.

Just in case you didn't hear.

I'm looking forward to what happens next, to see if Obama can prove to be a different politician. If he can do even half of what he spoke of in his victory speech, his will be a memorable administration. At the very least, I won't be cringing every time the president speaks to the nation and the world anymore.

The best part of this whole thing: as I was reminded again tonight, Obama's not truly in control. God is. And even if the worst fears of the far right come true or Obama proves to be less than I hope him to be, I know my call is the same - to love God with all my heart, mind, soul and strength and my neighbor as myself. That never changes - and this call is the one thing I have some semblance of control over. I can't control what happens next in our country, but I can find a way to show love to all those around me. And that is something we as Americans can all agree on, no matter the color of our state. Æ

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Now playing: Okkervil River - Calling And Not Calling My Ex
via FoxyTunes

Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself

2008-10-31T16:30:00.005-04:00

Other people's words, from Uncle Fred again. Read this last night. Can I believe both last night's post and this one? I believe I can...Æ

After centuries of handling and mishandling, most religious words have become so shopworn nobody's much interested any more. Not so with grace, for some reason. Mysteriously, even derivatives like gracious and graceful still have some of the bloom left.

Grace is something you can never get but only be given. There's no way to earn it or deserve it or bring it about any more than you can deserve the taste of raspberries and cream or earn good looks or bring about your own birth.

A good sleep is grace and so are good dreams. Most tears are grace. The smell of rain is grace. Somebody loving you is grace. Loving somebody is grace. Have you ever tried to love somebody?

A crucial eccentricity of the Christian faith is the assertion that people are saved by grace There's nothing you have to do. There's nothing you have to do. There's nothing you have to do.

The grace of God means something like: Here is your life. You might never have been, but you are because the party wouldn't have been complete without you. Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don't be afraid. I am with you. Nothing can ever separate us. It's for you I created the universe. I love you.

There's only one catch. Like any other gift, the gift of grace can be yours only if you'll reach out and take it.

Maybe being able to reach out and take it is a gift too.
Wishful Thinking

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Now playing: Okkervil River - Calling And Not Calling My Ex
via FoxyTunes

do not read this

2008-10-30T21:59:00.002-04:00

More words from other people, this time from Doug. It's how I'm feeling tonight. Tomorrow, probably not so much.

"Loneliness is my curse - our species' curse - it's the gun that shoots the bullets that make us dance on a saloon floor and humiliate ourselves in front of strangers.
"Where does loneliness come from?...Maybe you think fate is only for others. Maybe you're ashamed to be reading about loneliness - maybe someone will catch you and then they'll know your secret stain. And then maybe you're not even very sure what loneliness is - that's common. We cripple our children for life by not telling them what loneliness is, all of its shades and tones and implications. When it clubs us on the head, usually just after we leave home, we're blindsided. We have no idea what hit us. We think we're diseased, schizoid, bipolar, monstrous and lacking in dietary chromium. It takes us until thirty to figure out what it was that sucked the joy from our youth, that made our brains shriek and burn on the inside, even while our exteriors made us seem as confident and bronzed as Qantas pilots. Loneliness."
Eleanor Rigby

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Now playing: Two Cow Garage - Not Your Friends
via FoxyTunes

loss for words

2008-10-28T16:43:00.002-04:00

Been silent here a while. My usual blather/banter hasn't seemed particularly relevant or important or significant to share with the world at large. And I find myself inundated with opinions and arguments and accusations and rationalizations, a swirling maelstrom of mangled language meant to convince me of one side's superiority over the other's, but succeeds only in convincing me to stop listening at all.

And maybe that's a good thing. I wonder sometimes if our need to fill up the silence with whatever pops into our heads keeps us from truly communicating. I don't speak or write to connect with anyone else, but only so I don't have to deal with the uncomfortableness silence brings. Or listen to what the silence says.

Maybe it's time to listen more to the silence than to the noise.

Yet here I am, filling up cyber-silence with my own blog noise. I am nothing without my contradictions.

Been reading Peterson's The Contemplative Pastor and this morning read his chapter on Annie Dillard and realized I'd been missing her and her ability to, as Peterson puts it, exegete the world around her with eyes wide open. I've found my eyes squinted shut too much lately. I should pry them open by revisiting some of Dillard's thoughts. Need something deeper to challenge me. Been skimming the surface for too long.

Methinks illness is wreaking havoc on my brain. Too tired to think anything or write anything coherent. Silence sounds like a good option (or listening to my new emusic downloads - ah, contradictions).
Æ

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Now playing: Crooked Fingers - Cannibals
via FoxyTunes

thoughts from Uncle Fred

2008-10-18T19:41:00.003-04:00

Because I can't think of anything to say myself tonight...Æ

Most of the old restraints are gone or going. Such purely practical restraints as the fear of pregnancy and venereal disease have been all but eliminated by the ingenuity of modern science. Pornography is available to anybody who has the money to buy it at the newsstand. As much as you can generalize about such matters, in the realm of sexual behavior the word seems to be increasingly, "Anything goes," or, among the more responsible, "Anything goes as long as nobody gets hurt," the trouble with which how can anybody know in advance, in any complex human relationship, sexual or otherwise, who is going to get hurt psychologically, emotionally, spiritually? Or the word is, "Anything goes as long as you love each other," the trouble with which is that love here is likely to mean a highly romanticized, sentimental sort of enterprise that comes and goes like the pink haze it is.

What makes this a tragic situation, I believe, is not so much that by one set of standards or another it is morally wrong, but that in terms of the way human life is, it just does not work very well. Our society is filled with people for whom the sexual relationship is one where body meets body but where person fails to meet person; where the immediate need for sexual gratification i satisfied but where the deeper need for companionship and understanding is left untouched. The result is that the relationship leads not to fulfillment but to a half-conscious sense of incompleteness, of inner loneliness, which is so much the sickness of our time. The desire to know another's nakedness is really the desire to know the other fully as a person. It is the desire to know and to be known, not just sexually but as a total human being. It is the desire for a relationship where each gives not just of his body but of his self, body and spirit both, for the other's gladness.
The Hungering Dark

homecoming

2008-10-07T22:40:00.003-04:00

For those wondering: I did indeed survive my first ever excursion into chaperoning. But not without consequence - I ended up feeling ill Monday morning and called in sick today to stay home and rest with the hopes of staving off a more serious illness. We'll see over the next couple of days whether I was successful or not.

As for the dance itself, it wasn't nearly as bad as I imagined it might be. Of course, as I told a friend, I had anticipated scenes from a post-apocalyptic world where all morals had been discarded, so there was no where to go but up. Maybe I'm not as easily shocked as others. Maybe I simply didn't see the decadence going on. But of the 2100 (!) students attending the dance, only a handful of them seemed intent on reenacting acts meant for the bedroom.

Now I don't have great experience with school dances, having grown up in a pre-enlightened Church of the Nazarene where pre-marital sex was frowned upon because it might lead to dancing. My church went so far as to provide homecoming and prom "alternatives." For the uninitiated, these were similar to school dances in that they involved finding a date, buying a corsage, dressing up, going to a fancy dinner and staying out until the wee hours of the morning. The only thing missing was the dancing. We even had our share of drama (we were teenagers, after all).

So being a good Nazarene, I never set foot at an official high school dance (at least, until after I graduated from high school, but I mentioned that already). Most of my non-Nazarene friends had difficulty grasping the problem - heck, even some of my Nazarene friends had a hard time understanding it. Looking back, it does seem a bit ridiculous to call dancing sinful, especially since it's mentioned so many times in the Bible, most of the time in a positive manner. But being a member of the Nazarene church, I felt it was my responsibility to live up to the standards they had set forth in the Bible...er...Manual. Even if I didn't agree with them.

But the truth was, dancing was never a huge temptation for me. Rare was the time I found myself with the burning desire to "get my groove on," so to speak. Some of that was due to my religious upbringing (I say religious because I don't remember my parents ever telling me it was wrong to dance). Some of that was due to my lack of confidence with girls. Some of that was due to my uncomfortableness with my body. But I was reminded Saturday night the main reason I did not go to dances...

The music is abysmal.

Seriously. Made me want to grab a random corsage and jam the pin into my ear to stop the madness. Most of the "songs" (and I use that term loosely) were stunning in their boringness. Didn't help that during the four hours of the dance, they only played three songs I have on my iPod (for the curious: Journey's "Don't Stop Believing;" Michael Jackson's "Thriller;" and Def Leppard's "Pour Some Sugar on Me"). The rest were unremarkable, minus two absolute travesties: "Cotton-Eyed Joe: remix" and a dance medley of hairband hits (imagine AC/DC, Bon Jovi, Guns 'n Roses over a dance beat. Trust me, it's worse than you can imagine).

Other than that, my first dance as a chaperone was, for the most part, a positive experience. I could have done without the oppressive humidity in the arena (was so bad, it started to drip from the ceiling. I'll let your stomach churn over that image). And standing for over five hours made me long for my comfy chair. But it was actually fun seeing my students dressed up. You could see the adults they will become in a few years lurking just below the surface. And it was an ego boost to see them get excited over seeing you there. Yet what I'll probably remember most, and what I most regret from not going to dances in high school, was the sense of joy that permeated the event. When the songs everyone knew (everyone but me, of course) came on, teenagers came from every corner to fill the dance floor, throw their troubles into the humid gym air and lose themselves in an expression of joy. Or to sway quietly in the darkened arena, aware only of the arms draped about your neck, the eyes staring into yours. We all need to do that sometimes. If onlythey would play some decent music to go along with it...Æ

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Now playing: Big Star - Back of a Car
via FoxyTunes

Ah Friday, how we love you

2008-10-03T22:28:00.003-04:00

Friday night. Feeling exhausted. Brain probably shouldn't be out this late trying to write. Should be in bed, preparing for a Saturday filled with students - Saturday school in the morning, homecoming dance in the evening, with a few hours in between to wonder what I've gotten myself into.

Spirit week at Mason - The homecoming theme is "A Night in Wonderland" - a little bit of Lewis Carroll, but not so cartoony. Monday was Mad Hatter day, Tuesday Tweedledee/Tweedledum day (twins), Wednesday was Crazy day, Thursday was Character day and Friday Spirit day. Here's me on Character day. See if you can guess who I was:

I couldn't tell which students I was more disappointed with - the ones that knew who I was or the ones who didn't (the most common guess - hobo. Seriously? It's Character day!). OK, that's not exactly true - it was the latter. Not sure they're the best movies for most high school students - something I might have thought about before dressing up as a notorious imaginary drug dealer.

I'm a bit trepidatious about tomorrow night - my hope is I'm not haunted by images of my students doing things I have no desire to see. I asked them to try and spare me watching their vertical expression of a horizontal idea, but I don't think that's actually going to happen.

Been glorious sleeping weather here the last couple of nights - breezy enough I can curl up under my comforter, the crisp autumn air cool on my face. Actually felt a little chilly a couple of times. For those of whose bodies tend to burst into spontaneous fountains of perspiration, these cooler days are a Godsend. Plus, besides the physiological benefits, my mind feels clearer, a little brighter, a little happier. Even with my recent bouts of nostalgia, they've been pleasant remembrances, not the horrible "my life was so much better then" type. I fondly remember those times, but they only shine the light on my life now and show me how blessed I am. They remind me I would not be the person I am today without them. And I certainly wouldn't want to be the person I was then now.

Follow up to my last entry: got an email from my friend Brad, who reminded me Cindy had had an impact on his life as well, something I had forgotten. He shared a bit of his story and it was interesting to see how the two meshed together. I told him if anything comes of my "google trap" that I'll let him know. BTW, it's her birthday today, so happy birthday Cindy, wherever you are.

That's enough of that.

My favorite show from last year started up again - Pushing Daisies. I love these characters and their world. Here's hoping enough other people do too so it stays on the air. They've shaken things up a bit, which is good and they did a good job of introducing new viewers to the world. And regardless of what EW says, Chi McBride is brilliant as Emerson Cod and perhaps my favorite character on the show.

OK, need to start winding down so I can get up early tomorrow and do Saturday school. Here's hoping I'm disciplined enough to get my grading done. Night. Æ

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Now playing: Brian K. Reese - Big Rock Happy Endings Mix
via FoxyTunes

wandering down amnesia lane

2008-09-27T22:55:00.003-04:00

Occasionally, when we get through what I have planned in my classes, I pull out one of my books filled with questions and begin asking random students random questions. Things like "What's your favorite candy" or "If you were in the jungle with your dad and your best friend and they both fell into a pit of poisonous vipers and you only had enough venom antidote to save one of them, who would you save?" This past week in one of my classes, one of the questions was, "What one person from your past that you've lost touch with would you like to reconnect with?" Being teenagers, many of them didn't have a response. Had they bothered to ask, however, I knew who mine was.

Cindy Rogers.

20 years ago I received a letter in my mailbox at MVNC, written in response to a letter I had written and handed to Cindy the weekend before. It was my first trip home after starting college and I had written the letter to express my attraction to this girl who had started attending our youth group. We had hung out a bit at the end of the summer and then I had left for Mount Vernon (ah, blessed timing). But I couldn't get her out of my head. So in a rare burst of courage, I told her how I felt (yeah, I know, it was in a letter, but that was quite the step for me - come to think of it, it still is). And then I waited, not knowing what, if anything, would come of it.

Amazingly enough, I discovered she felt the same way, that when she had seen me that weekend, she had wanted to run up and give me a hug, but didn't. I also discovered she was seeing someone else (Tony, who I had met at her house), but that she was breaking it off because it was me she wanted. I was flabbergasted. Wow! It worked! Of course, there were difficulties: she still lived Beavercreek, two hours away. I didn't have a car. She was still in high school and (gasp!) 2 1/2 years younger than me. But none of that mattered - she liked me. That was enough.

So that fall we did the whole long distance things - phone calls, letters, trips home, visits to the school. She came up at least twice - once to see the one acts I was in and once with the church group who came for a visit. And I went home when I could, including one trip to attend my very first homecoming dance. We spent as much time as we could together in those short bursts and watched our hearts break when it was time to leave. She was the second girl I'd officially dated and looking back, I was quite naive, embarrassingly so probably. But I was saved because, well, I was in college and she was in high school and all her friends were impressed she was dating a college guy. Even her parents liked me; in fact, she usually had a curfew, unless she was out with me. Then she could stay out as long as she wanted.

But eventually, as happens often with long distance relationships, it became harder and harder to keep things going. I was making new friends at college. She had her friends back in Beavercreek. All seemed to be going OK at Thanksgiving when I was home (a whole five days!). She gave me a mix tape of songs that became the beginning of my conversion from classic rock guy to indie elitist. But then cold December rolled around and I started to get the sense all was not well. Our conversations were shorter, our letters less ecstatic. By the time winter break came around, you could feel the end in the air. She was sick the weekend I got home, and when I called on Tuesday to see how she was doing, she mentioned wanting to talk. Uh oh. I asked her what was wrong and she said not over the phone, but I knew what was coming and forced her hand. So that's how we broke up - over the phone. I saw her the next Sunday at church and she gave me back my class ring. My heart was broken, but I held on to the idea that we could remain friends.

Silly rabbit.

See, all my other "relationships" had ended with me staying friends with the girl. I went out of my way to make sure we could still talk, still be in one another's lives. But Cindy wasn't comfortable with that. We shared a foggy dinner after New Year's (seriously, driving to meet her, the fog was so thick people were pulling off the side of the road) and exchanged Christmas cards and gifts (I can't remember what I gave her - a sweater perhaps? - but she gave me a gift certificate to Dingleberry's Records to buy some music). And that was it. I'd call occasionally, trying to keep communication open, but she wouldn't talk to me and eventually told me to stop bothering (stalking?) her. She claimed we had nothing in common, so even a friendship was fruitless.

That winter/spring was rough as I realized not all relationships ended well. She stopped going to my church and I lost contact with mutual friends and got involved in college life and eventually she disappeared off my radar. I'd hear occasional rumors of where she was and what she was doing, but I never saw her again.

So why is she the one that I'd like to reconnect with? Curiosity, I suppose. I wonder what became of her. I wonder what her life is like. I wonder if she even remembers me. And perhaps a bit of vanity - she's the only girl I ever dated I haven't kept in touch with (well, at least she was...) and part of me doesn't like my blemished record. But mostly I'd like to thank her for helping my transition from high school to college not be so horrible. And for giving me the gift of music. I wore out the mixtape she gave me and the bands on it - Midnight Oil, The Cure, Depeche Mode, INXS, OMD, Shriekback - drew me away from the Christian rock and hairbands of high school and into, as WOXY used to call it, the future of rock and roll. Because of her I bought my first "secular" album - INXS's Kick - and I can't imagine what my life would have been like had she not enlightened me to the joys left of the dial. I'd probably still be languishing in the Christian ghetto or celebrating the reunion tours of well-past-dead bands (I'm looking at you, Van Halen).

I've done some searching here on the internet to no avail. It's much easier for girls to find old boyfriends because, well, their names don't change. A little trickier when they don't still go by their maiden names. So I thought I'd write this post not only to indulge in a little nostalgia, but hoping that by typing her name, Cindy Rogers, I just might catch someone googling her (maybe even Cindy herself) who might pass along my post or, at the very least, let her know that our brief dalliance 20 years ago still reverberates today.

Thanks for joining me on this trip in the way back machine. I hope it wasn't too painful. We'll return to my present life, um, er, presently, including my take on Southeast Engine's set at Midpoint. I'm telling you - y'all missed it. Night. Æ

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Now playing: The Cure - Pictures Of You
via FoxyTunes

an eternal day lies ahead

2008-09-24T22:54:00.002-04:00

I should be heading off to sleep, what with independent novel project presentations all day tomorrow and Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure for film club and three hours of parent/teacher conferences and a line rehearsal I will most likely not make, yet here I am, checking in to make sure you, my faithful readers, know I haven't abandoned you.

Wow, that is quite the convoluted sentence. Is it any wonder I didn't excel in my journalism classes?

Updates: Tartuffe went well this weekend. I stumbled a bit opening night, but the other nights went smoothly. As for the rest of the show, I only know we're moving at a brisk pace and everyone seems happy with how it's going. I can't personally vouch for the show since I've never actually seen it, but I'll take their word for it. If you like Moliere or French farce, it's a great way to spend an evening. Come on out. Enjoy.

My talk on Sunday went well again. I am consistently amazed at God's ability to take control and do what He wants with my words. The title was "The Unexpected Characteristics of God" and it seemed to hit a lot of people yet again. I know I shouldn't be surprised by God's working - it's what He does, after all. It's humbling, that's all. I think I might try to flesh it out, get it down on paper (more than the brief outline I typed up Sunday morning). I'd like to do some more thinking on some of the points that came up, especially the ones I didn't intend.

Mom and dad came down Sunday. Good to see them again, as always. I should have warned them we would be on VC time - they arrived about 9:40, which means they were at the church 20 minutes before anyone else graced the doorway. After the service, we went out with Gina and Julie and Emma to Jalepenos - which turned out to be a good thing since they're closing! I know! Was there last night for house church (don't ask) and they had a sign saying they'd lost their lease. This was my goto place for food. I have no idea what I'll do now, though Cici's and Chipotle opening within walking distance might take some of the edge off (please know I'm not comparing Jalepenos to those two places, only pondering my inability to decide what I want to eat sometimes).

I'd meant to come and indulge in some more nostalgia tonight, but I never seem to get to the computer before 11:00, and by then I'm lucky to type anything coherent at all. 'Twas 20 years ago this week I took a chance and told a girl I liked her and, miracle of miracles, discovered she liked me back. Definitely an odd relationship for many reasons, but it sticks in my memory for two reasons. One, she was the first girl I dated who wanted nothing to do with me once we broke up. And more importantly, I credit her for saving me from my hairband/classic rock ways and showing me the joys of music left of the dial. It's amazing the changes we'll make in the name of love (or what we think is love anyway).

I have more to say on this, but not now. Now is the time for sleeping and trying not to be angry at mother nature for not realizing it's fall and she should stop sending 80+ degree days our ways. I want my crisp autumn air now, thankyouverymuch. Monday was the first day - time to turn the page.

Sorry. The heat makes me grumpy (insert own joke here). Night.
Æ

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Now playing: New Order - Ceremony
via FoxyTunes

thoughts from a picnic table, part 2

2008-09-18T19:52:00.002-04:00

23 hours later. Same table. Different noises. Feeling a bit stretched tonight - odd week catching up with me finally. Crashed hard after school today - Friday night hard - and woke with a start, disoriented. At first I thought the clock said 6:15, which would have meant I was screwed. But it said 5:15, so I snagged a quick shower, grabbed a couple of Wendy's spicy chicken wraps (no ranch), fought rush hour traffic and made it to the theater only five minutes late. I even managed to parallel park while talking on my cell phone, a minor miracle.

Hey, it's the little things.

Meant to print out the lectionary today at school so I could work on my talk tonight. Forgot. Will have to wait until tomorrow I suppose. While I'm glad to be doing Tartuffe, it has complicated my schedule a touch. No Wendell Berry Sunday (sad) and I'll probably have to miss The Seedy Seeds instore at Shake It tomorrow night, though I did score permission to not show up until 8 PM, so we'll see.

Sarah called on my way to the theater (hence the parallel parking miracle). We seem to talk at the oddest times. This weekend is Paul and Shannon's post-wedding Philadelphia extravaganza, so they all had been talking about me. Flattered. Somehow (I'll leave it to those wiser than me to figure out how) they were talking about my inability to flirt. Maybe inability is too strong. Reticence, perhaps? Definitely not a skill I practice often or excel at. Opportunity rarely presents itself anymore. I suppose I don't actually mind, though I do wonder occasionally if I developed it if I might not spend so many weekends alone. Though I feel maybe it's like getting your ear pierced - after a certain age, it's too late.

Expectations again - maybe I don't foresee a positive response to flirting, so why bother? Defeatist, definitely, but I can't say my experience has shown me any different. Honestly, not trying to fall in to my usual "woe-is-me." Only trying to make sense of why I act - or do not act - in certain situations. Pavlov wasn't far off - we repeat those actions for which we're rewarded.

I often think I should challenge myself, throw caution to the wind and get my flirt on. But where would I even go to do that? And who would take me seriously? Or even play along? The image from Lewis's The Great Divorce keeps appearing, of the skeletal woman smeared with make up, still attempting to be alluring. Like Cyrano, I fear the laughter behind a woman's eyes.

Hmmm. Didn't come here to talk about this. But it's where I've ended up.

Tomorrow my students turn in their persuasive letters to their parents. Taking a cue from last year, I'm going to have them self-evaluate (not to be confused with self-medicate), force them to look at their own writing and give reason why they give themselves the score they did. Need to set the tone early, help them take it seriously - at least as seriously as they can on a Friday after a crazy week. Not sure how focused I'll be myself tomorrow. Guess I'll find out.

Supposed to karaoke tonight and while I want to join, it seems unwise. We won't be out of here until 10:30-11:00, so by the time our names are called to sing, it will be well after the witching hour. Of course, with my nap this afternoon, I probably won't sleep anyway. We'll see how I feel in two hours.

Time to read some. If I keep writing, I'll never transfer all of it to my blog. Awww...Phil Collins is singing "Groovy Kind of Love" and the nostalgia comes roaring back. More on that later...Æ

thoughts from a picnic table, part 1

2008-09-17T20:37:00.001-04:00

The Cure drifts through my headphones - yes, I'm still overdosing on nostalgia - as I sit on an old picnic table behind the Monmouth Theater. Our run through has begun and I'm out here whiling away the time until intermission, when I'll finally put on eye liner and get into costume. No need before then. Plus, I'll be in the way otherwise.

The worst of the power outage is over, though I still know people without. I'd like to think I could go days without power, but in truth I'd go stir crazy. I'm too dependent on my electronic luxuries now. Maybe if I weaned myself off them I could do it, but cold turkey would be too painful. OK, not painful. Uncomfortable. Inconvenient.

Look, I'm out here on a balmy September night, listening to "When Love Comes to Town" and waiting for my nightly cell phone alarm to remind me it's time to go to Compline. I can't even allow myself to sit and listen to the sounds of this almost autumn night. Of course, the smells wafting across are another matter entirely. They sure do smoke a lot of weed down here in Newport. Only way to survive such a hell-hole.

Sorry. Guess I'm still a bit bitter.

Cowboy Junkies are singing "I'm So Lonesome I Could Die." Fits the feeling of the evening better than the revving engines and slamming doors around me. Not because of the lyrics - can't say I'm feeling lonesome at this particular moment. But the soft melancholy feels like autumn. The morning air the past couple days caused a rush of memories, those inextricably tied to the season. Marching bands and harvest moons, fall plays and rustling leaves, love letters and inverted sunsets, whispered rendezvous and river trails. I love the change of the air - crisper, cooler, the last drops of humidity wrung out. The calendar won't know autumn for another five days, but for the atmosphere and my heart, it's already here.

Expectations. It's what I'm speaking on this Sunday. The brilliance of the lectionary shines this week - every passage tells the tale of thwarted expectations. Israelites wishing they'd stayed in Egypt, Jonah watching God forgive the Ninevites, the workers in the vineyard all getting paid the same. How dangerous our expectations can be, blinding us to the love and grace of God because it doesn't fit into our picture of what should be. What we want to be. What we wish. Hope. Expect. Æ

i've dropped trou and bent over. time to take advantage.

2008-09-15T10:46:00.002-04:00

Turns out my "violation" on Friday was not for not having a city sticker but for a simple meter violation. Unlike 97% of the cities in America (I'm guessing here), the City of Newport forces you to feed their meters until midnight. Because obviously the increased prices at the stores around this hell-hole they call an entertainment district don't bring in enough revenue. The kind lady at the finance desk said this was a decision forced on the city by the local merchants who felt having the meters expire at say 6:00 PM like most places robbed them of the turnover needed to keep their businesses afloat. And obviously not enough people have been screwed and stopped going to make them change it.

I'd like to believe business and bureaucracies listen to their customers and do what is in the customer's best interest. But my experience has shown me the opposite - if they can line their pockets with money by screwing their customers, it saves them the hassle of being decent and forthright. Institutions, whether they be corporations or municipalities or governments or even churches, exist only to keep the institution alive, no matter the cost. And I have a hard time seeing any way to affect change. My not going to Newport isn't going to get them to change their meters. I doubt a letter to City Hall will be taken seriously either. So I'm left with the choice of going and putting up with their petty robbery or not going at all. But neither choice will change anything.

Feeling sore and violated...Æ

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Now playing: The New Pornographers - Adventures in Solitude
via FoxyTunes

unplugged

2008-09-14T19:00:00.002-04:00

Ike sent some nasty wind our way today, wreaking havoc on weak trees and vulnerable power lines. I was down in Newport, helping with the load-in for Tartuffe, watching the winds throw shingles and branches down the street when Amy, the director, decided the chaos was too much to chance and canceled our run through. Strangely enough, the power was still on at the theater, an oasis of electricity surrounded by a desert of lifeless lights and useless electronics. I called the 'Wood and discovered we were sans power as well. I toyed briefly with staying at Monmouth if only for the A/C, but decided I should go home, make sure all was well.

A maelstrom of swirling branches and far too many fallen trees brought visions of my ancient oak lying prostrate over what remained of my house. I needn't have worried - she's a hearty old lady and has seen far worse in her century of life I imagine. I had to pop my garage door opener to get Lorelei out of danger, but other than my trash can and recycling bin trying to escape down my front yard, not much damage I could see. Definitely glad I didn't spend time yesterday doing yard work only to have it obliterated.

Shannon texted me and invited me over to her place for cards by candlelight. Probably should go - haven't spent time with them in far too long (I think I always say that) - plus her beau from Columbus is in town and I could finally meet him. My only options here are reading or writing some more and soon the light will fad too much to do either of those. Luckily, I'm not hungry because I have nothing to eat in my house and no way of getting anything. I'm not sure how the Amish survive. Less than four hours off the grid and I'm bored out of my skull. And I still have my iPod and phone to help keep me occupied. And a car to get around. I wonder if we reach a point of no return, when our lives can no longer be as simple as they once were. Perhaps we're too dependent on our gadgets to live without them for more than hours at a time. We'd lose our minds in such simplicity.

One of the vocab words this past week was nostalgia (which my students continually pronounced noh-stahl-ah-gee-a). Been indulging in a little nostalgia overload lately - listening to my 80s playlist, catching up with old friends. I've even toyed with venturing into the basement to pull out my box of old letters, specifically some special ones from 20 years ago. Yes, I'm one of those who keep everything. Why? Nostalgia, sure. But I also hold these delusions of people sorting through them after I'm dead and piecing together the patterns of my life.

That's probably enough to find myself institutionalized sooner than later.

All that to say, autumn is nearly upon us (even if the weather refuses to agree) and my nostalgia binging will most likely slip into overdrive. And honestly, I'm looking forward to a little backward glancing, as long as I don't get lost down memory lane. We'll see.

Temperature's arising. time to blow this popsicle stand. Here's hoping the power stays out in Mason long enough to cancel school...Æ

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Now playing: The Magnetic Fields - California Girls
via FoxyTunes

it's a small world, but i wouldn't want to paint it

2008-09-13T21:14:00.002-04:00

When we last saw our intrepid hero, he was on his way to Below Zero for a little late night karaoke action. He arrived a bit after ten but could not find anyone, so he called Chris. They were hiding in the corner. 'Twas supposed to be a cast bonding for Tartuffe, but turned out to be more of a BATB reunion - Charlie, Sarah and Nicole were there, with Ben and Andy showing up a bit later. The only other Tartuffe member (other than Chris, of course) was Kaitlyn. I didn't feel much like singing, so sat back and watched others show off their talent or extreme lack thereof. Over the caterwauling, Kaitlyn and I began chatting - turns out she went to OU. I then asked where she came from before that. She said a little town in northeast Ohio, about 45 minutes from Pittsburgh, along the Ohio River. East Liverpool. My mouth dropped open and stared impolitely for a second before informing her of my family connections there. Turns out she graduated from Beaver Local, my dad's alma mater and lives down the road from Grandma Allen. Small, tiny, wee world we live in. What are the odds?

The rest of the evening was fun, but I was out far too long, mostly because I wanted to hear Chris sing the Tenacious D class, **** Her Gently. Well worth the wait, though it meant not getting to sleep until 1:30 AM. Made for an interesting Friday, and by interesting, I mean most of my day was spent trying to stay awake. Which I did, only barely, and then crashed hard in the comfy chair when I came home. Which was good, because I had quite the evening ahead of me.

A few weeks back, I found out Tift Merritt was performing at the Southgate House. I immediately put it on my list of things to do (or would have, if I actually kept such a list). I love Tift's voice and enjoyed her Austin City Limits performance (which I no longer have because my DVR died. Bummer). I thought of trying to find someone to go with, but couldn't think of anyone that knew who she was or would be interested. So last night I headed down by myself, arriving around 8:00 to a line out the door. First time I've had that happen at Southgate. But the show itself wasn't overly crowded and I finagled a chair not too far from the stage after finally getting around to changing my voter registration to Norwood (there was a booth). Show started closer to on time than any other Southgate House show I've been to - only a half hour after the posted time. First opening act was Daniel Martin Moore, a singer/songwriter from somewhere near Eastern Kentucky. His first song was his best, but not a bad set. Then came Matthew Ryan vs Silver State. I'd heard good stuff and it was good, straightforward roots rock from Philly. Didn't make me want to run out and buy a CD, but 'twas fun, especially when he worked Elvis and U2 lyrics into his song.

Then came Tift. She's a petite little thing with a lovely smile and a gentle Carolina drawl. She started at the piano and let it rip. Such power in her voice, such energy to performance. The crowd was responsive and she fed off our energy. And unlike many shows, there was little talking going on (I'm sure the ticket price kept those looking to get drunk with only a passing interest in the music upstairs). Her and her band owned the stage, giving one of the better performances I've seen there lately. Didn't hurt that she was so easy on the eyes. Remember the Friends episode when Ross makes a list of celebrities he'd sleep with? Tift Merritt is now on mine.

My favorite moment - the band unplugged and sang "Supposed to Make You Happy" at the front of the stage. Stunning in it's simplicity. Will definitely be downloading her latest CD once my emusic subscription refreshes.

The night ended poorly, however - I got back to my car to discover a ticket on my windshield. I was parked at a meter and the only sign around said you couldn't park there from 8-12 on Saturday. And I'm pretty sure the meters aren't in service at 8PM at night. The ticket itself says No City Sticker. I have no idea what this means. Now I get to drive down to Newport to contest it on Monday. Otherwise, the concert doubled in price. Needless to say, I was not pleased.

Art Walk was today. We started with a passage from Job 38 - "Who is this that darkeneth counsel By words without knowledge? " You know, the passage where sarcastically blasts Job, asking him if he was there when he created the universe and if not, then he should shut the **** up (I'm paraphrasing). With that as my impetus, I decided to visit parts of the museum I don't understand, to try and see past my own ignorance. I meandered through the Asian art and then up stairs to the contemporary. Most contemporary art does nothing other than frustrate me because I a) don't get it or b) don't see what others see (which I guess is the same thing). So I went to the Rothko - one of Rob's favorites - and read the blurb and stepped back. Nothing. So I stepped forward a bit, changing perspective. Nothing. So I stepped back. Nothing yet again. All I see is rectangles of different colors. No heartbeat, no sign of the emotion Rothko speaks of, no tears that others have experienced. I only felt frustration, probably much like Job did. "Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?/Tell Me, if you have understanding" No, I wasn't there when Rothko created his piece. And I don't have access to whatever he was experiencing through the act of creation. I'm an agnostic when it comes to contemporary art - I don't dismiss it completely, but I haven't experienced enough to truly believe.

Saw Burn After Reading this afternoon. It was...an occasionally funny mess. The end almost redeemed the film. It's a middling Coen Brothers film - not as bad as Ladykillers, but not as good as Raising Arizona or The Big Lebowski. The individuals were good, but not enough funny all the way through. I think the previews and trailers ruined some of the best moments.

Speaking of trailers, anyone seen the trailer for Towelhead? I'm not so interested in the movie itself (gee, another Alan Ball script about an older man having a relationship with a teenager), but the song during the trailer caught my attention. Anyone know what it is? I did a quick Google search to no avail. Information appreciated.

Finished Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal today, mostly out of necessity since I borrowed it from the library and I couldn't renew it because some put a hold on it. Enjoyable read. Moore walked the fine line between the sacred and the profane well. I kept thinking while I was reading that you'd never see a similar book about Mohammad. I'm sure there are those who would be offended, but as Moore points out in his afterword, "if one's faith can be shaken by stories in a humorous novel, one may have a bit more praying to do." Excellent point.

My, I do go on tonight, don't I? OK, time to catch up on my House backlog. Thanks to USA, I can now catch up on the seasons I've missed. Fun. Tech week starts tomorrow - we'll see what it does to my week. Night. Æ

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Now playing: Son Volt - Caryatid Easy
via FoxyTunes

2008-09-11T21:33:00.002-04:00

This summer, before I ran off to Colorado, a local company was having auditions for Moliere's Tartuffe. I've never done Moliere (though I student directed The Miser in college) and always wanted to, but I couldn't make an early audition work, so I decided 'twasn't to be this time around. Flash forward to a week ago, when Chris from BATB contacted me and asked if I'd be interested in doing a small role in...Tartuffe. A couple of lines, right at the end of the show, but of course I said yes. Been pretty simple so far - my part of rehearsal rarely lasts more than an hour, so I show up at the end or the beginning. Pretty easy. Plus, the short run up for me means it's tech week next week and we go up a week from tomorrow. Crazy. But fun.

Of course, it's also stolen away any spare time I might have to blog or check the 'Book or get stuff ready for school, but I think I can handle a couple weeks of this.

I have no coherent thoughts tonight, only a conglomeration of ideas swirling about. And Chris called and I need to be heading to Below Zero for a little karaoke cast-bonding time, so those thoughts will have to keep on swirling for now.

In the meantime, you can check out Steve's take on our Columbus to Cincinnati bike ride on the CityBeat website. He also posted my account, making sure to let everyone know I blog about my "adventures as a single fellow in Cincinnati." Hasn't helped yet, but hey, there's always a chance.

Off to do a little karaoke. Sorry for the briefness. Æ

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Now playing: iDEoLA - Hold Back Your Tears
via FoxyTunes

the ride

2008-09-04T23:28:00.003-04:00

All summer, my friend Steve had been asking me to join him on a long bike ride between Columbus and Cincinnati. He had discovered the joys of bicycle commuting and wanted to put his re-kindled love for riding to a serious test. None of this tooling around the neighborhood or short jaunts on the bike path. Steve had a dream, and when he dreams, he dreams big.

He is also relentless. At least twice a week he would ask me if I was still up for riding from Columbus to Cincinnati and at least twice a week I would say it sounded great, but I would have to check my schedule, which, while honest, wasn’t exactly the truth. That’s not to say I wasn’t interested; three years ago I had followed my own desire to do a century – riding a 100 miles in a day – and it was one of the most memorable experiences I’ve had recently. But as the summer dragged on, I realized my goal of losing the extra 20 pounds I’d packed on since my last ride remained only a goal and by the time Labor Day rolled around, I hadn’t been on a bike since I’d had my gall bladder removed – in July.

So I looked for ways to get out of it. I hinted at my lack of training. I pointed to the stress of beginning a new school year. I alluded to the logistical problems involved in biking between cities. But Steve would have none of it. He was determined and I had made a promise, and though logically it was stupid for someone as out of shape as I was, I was taking this ride, one way or another.

After crashing in Columbus at the home of two kind and generous souls, the alarm went off at 5:00AM and we loaded up our bikes and hit the streets of Columbus well before the sun began to rise. Riding through the darkened neighborhoods in the cool of the morning got my adrenaline going and by the time we stopped to take a couple of pictures along the river, I was actually looking forward to the rest of the ride. I felt good. I felt rested. I felt ready to conquer the trail and emerge triumphant at the end.

And then the pain set in.

I don’t know if you’ve ever felt the burn of muscles not used to being used, but in many ways it’s similar to eating especially hot salsa – you’re better off if you keep going because when you stop, that’s when the real ache begins. We were just past West Jefferson when my body began to revolt. I had hoped it was temporary, but while Steve moved ahead at a comfortable pace, I was struggling to keep my bike moving forward. This was bad. No, seriously, this was really, really bad.

By the time we coasted into London and found nothing but fast food restaurants open for eating, I was a wreck. Steve could tell I was hurting and so could the bikers (motors, not pedals) who pointed us toward a restaurant in the next town, South Charleston. Hard to hide the fact that your body is ready to curl up into a fetal position until the pain goes away. But in the interest of finding an eatery with local flavor, I agreed to wait to eat until we went a few more miles down the path.

This, too, was a mistake. See, I hadn’t eaten anything all day, other than some trail mix. I figured out later this was why my legs were burning. But those few miles from London to South Charleston was the worst. pain. ever. I kept alternating between cursing and saying the Jesus Prayer over and over again (Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me and my stupid legs). By the time we pulled into the Blue Point Café, I was ready to give in and admit I was too out of shape to go any farther. I’d figured it all out – someone could come and get me and the bike, drive me back to Cincinnati, and I’d be recovering in my bed before the sun set that night.

Luckily, I decided to see how I felt after eating before announcing to Steve my plan to abandon him. The protein from the burger and the pitcher of water I drank soothed the burn in my legs and after a break down by the head of the trail, I felt human enough to pack up and ride again. I popped on my iPod, determined to make it to Xenia before dark. I wasn’t going anywhere fast, and the burn got bad a few times, but I was able to push through the pain and even began to enjoy the ride a bit as the sun beat down on us. Unfortunately, this part of the ride wasn’t so kind to Steve’s bike – he lost three spokes and his back tire wobbled like a drunken clown. So we loaded his panniers on my bike, called ahead to find an open bike shop and took it easy the last few miles to Xenia.

While Steve’s bike was fixed, I called my friend Candice and got the phone number for the Xenia Holiday Inn. The thought of a bed and a pool excited me in ways I wasn’t completely comfortable with. We got one of the last rooms available (stupid soccer tournaments) with no discount, but I probably would have paid any price at that point. We walked the bikes up and I collapsed on the bed while Steve took a shower. Lying there, I was sure there was no way for me to make it any farther. I could be proud of my ride – 65 miles with no training is nothing to be ashamed of. And I knew my parents would be in Beavercreek for church the next morning and could come and get me with little hassle. But again, I kept it to myself because, well, I hate confrontation and I didn’t want to spoil Steve’s mood.

We got on our bikes one last time (much to my chagrin) and headed down to the Mexican restaurant next to the bike shop. After a filling and tasty meal, we went back to the room. We both toyed with hitting the pool, but sleep won out and we crashed – Steve around 8:00, me and my insomnia around 10:00 PM. As usual, I woke up five hours later at 3AM and practiced in my head how I would tell Steve I wasn’t going in the morning. I knew he’d be disappointed, but I also figured he’d understand after my misery of the day before. I had it all worked out – he could take my phone and I would take his extra weight so he could make it back to Norwood quicker than having to wait on me all the time. For me to go on would just be to save my ego and I knew that was a stupid reason to risk serious harm.

But then we walked to Bob Evans for breakfast and it never came up and we got back and the next thing I knew Steve had his bike all loaded and ready to go. It was now or never. I told him I didn’t think I could make it, that I would wait here and my parents would come and pick me up. It was for the best. He looked sad and simply said maybe I was just in a food coma after breakfast and would feel better once we got on the road. That’s all it took – I sucked it up, put on my riding clothes, loaded up my Camelbak and we hit the road for the final 55-60 miles.

Day two was rather uneventful compared to day one. I was far more familiar with this stretch of the path from my earlier rides. Plus I did a much better job of staying hydrated and fed and while I had serious saddle sores, my legs and conditioning did much better. At least until we hopped off the bike path just south of Loveland and headed into Indian Hills. I should have known I was in trouble because of the name. It felt like all we did for the next several miles was climb and climb and climb some more with no downhill on the other side. I think I spent more time walking my bike than I did riding it. It didn’t help that it was the middle of the afternoon and close to 90 degrees. When I started getting chills, I knew we had to stop before heat exhaustion set in. So we stopped at the Kenwood Chipotle where I drank some juice and water and Steve ate a burrito and tried to convince me to get my picture taken with the Red Bull Girls who had walked in. I barely escaped the embarrassment.

Thirty minutes later we pulled into Norwood, and though exhaustion seeped out of every pore of my body, the thrill of having ridden 124.44 miles reminded me that sometimes you can do far more than you ever imagined, though it might mean you have to go through severe moments of pain to get there. And never underestimate the power a friend’s encouragement can give – even if you didn’t want to hear it. Æ

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Now playing: Two Cow Garage - Come Back to Shelby
via FoxyTunes

quite the weekend

2008-09-01T22:33:00.003-04:00

Sitting here, waiting for my clothes to dry, exhausted from the weekend and yet no closer to sleep than normal. I had hoped to get all my laundry done earlier, but instead of lying around comatose all day, I decided to keep my promise and head up to Bethany's for a cookout. Certainly am glad I did (more on that later).

Also glad I kept my other obligation for the weekend. Sometime early this summer, Steve began asking me if I would be up for taking a ride over Labor Day weekend from Columbus to Cincinnati. At first I was all for it, thinking I would get the chance to ride plenty over the summer and thus would be in good shape for the ride. Unfortunately, I didn't ride as much as I hoped and the closer we got to Labor Day, the more I began to feel perhaps I had cashed the proverbial check my body couldn't keep. Sure, I had done a century before, but that was three years back after a summer of riding. I hadn't been riding since my trip to Colorado back in July. I probably should have told Steve I wish I could, but my body just isn't up for it. But either ego or fear of confrontation (most likely both) kept me from saying anything.

So there I was, Friday night, after a tasty meal at Buca di Beppo, hitching a ride with our friend Mandy to be dropped off somewhere near the OSU campus to begin our adventure. Trepidatious doesn't begin to describe how I felt. But I had made a promise and I intended to keep it, even if it meant my corpse lying somewhere on the bike path between London and Cincy (I figured I'd make it at least to London, though as it turned out, I was almost wrong). Sleep stayed away, per usual, and even as we got ready at O'Dark Thirty in the morning, I wondered if I'd made a huge mistake.

I'll spare you the details for now, mostly out of respect for Steve (without whom I would have indeed ended up in a fetal position on the path), who is writing an article for CityBeat. But I will say we did indeed make it, 124.44 miles in two days. And other than some excruciating spaces and a brush with heat exhaustion, I had a great, great time. Two thoughts:

Just because you could doesn't mean you can; and just because you couldn't doesn't mean you can't.
Sometimes life turns out far better than you could have hoped, even if it's quite painful at times.

As for the other promise, I spent the afternoon with some old friends and acquaintances from college at my friend Bethany's in Mount Sterling (yes, I drove all the way back up to the Columbus area. Question my sanity at your leisure). I had every intention of not going - my body ached and I had other things I needed to get done (like laundry and grocery shopping). But when I called to check on the details, I decided I wanted to go. Turns out they were meeting at 11:30 and since I waited to call until 10:00, I was going to be a little late. But turns out, not too much. Arrived around noon, well before food was served. Jonna was there and we all had the chance to reminisce a bit about Dave and laugh. We lived the cliche - we sat around and talked about the old days and how much everything had changed since we were in college (which we had started 20 years ago - oh dear Lord when did we get so old?), but also shared our current lives. 'Twas a wonderful day spent with friends. Big thanks to Bethany for once again being the perfect hostess. We always talk about doing more of this - here's hoping we do more than talk this time.

OK, laundry should be done and then I need to get to sleep. Practice OGT for the students tomorrow - should be really, really, really boring. Maybe I'll jot down my thoughts on the ride for later sharing. Betcha can't wait... Æ

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Now playing: R.E.M. - Radio Free Europe
via FoxyTunes

the first week

2008-08-26T21:33:00.002-04:00

The 2008-2009 school year did not start well. There's always some struggle to transition from summer mode to school mode, but this year, when that early alarm went off Monday morning, it took all I had within me to just get out of bed, forget trying to muster up an iota of excitement for the school year.

I started the day with my final trek to morning prayers for the summer (sadness) and then drove up to Mason. First on the agenda - a meeting with the AXA representative from the school. This sounded like a good idea a the time and then I remembered why I tend to avoid those kinds of meetings - my brain implodes whenever I think about financial matters. I know it's important and vital and poor Alex did an excellent job of presenting my options, but about ten minutes in he turned into the teacher from the Charlie Brown cartoon. He attempted to get me to sign up right then, but I told him I had to look it over first, which was true, since I had no grasp whatsoever on what I was signing.

Unfortunately, this was only the beginning of my torture via financial planning. My second error of judgment was agreeing to meet my insurance agent that day. You know, get all my meetings out of the way at once. Yet what I thought was going to be a brief look at my coverages turned into two hours of being sold more things I didn't understand. I had hoped to finish the meeting and have about an hour before my next meeting to eat lunch. Instead, I ended up being walking in late and being challenged to find a seat for the next three and a half hours of my life - diversity training.

This I was not looking forward to.

Don't get me wrong - I think diversity is a great thing and I am all for teachers and staff being more sensitive to other staff and teachers. But I usually leave meetings like this crushed under the burden of guilt for what I have done and what I have left undone. Which I suppose is the point, but I've gotten to the place where I've decided life is too short to feel guilty all the time. The "training" went faster than I had thought, which was good and the group presenting did an excellent job outlining the challenges. But after three hours thinking about finances and no lunch as an opening band, I was not a happy camper by the end of the day. And I didn't get to spend nearly enough time getting my room and everything ready. Which meant I had to do it all on Tuesday. I still don't have a firm grasp on just how long it takes to get everything ready for the first day. At least I don't seem to be alone.

Then Wednesday. I was the teacher everyone hates - I gave a writing assignment the first day. 20 sentences on writing - what they thought of it, what they liked, didn't like, etc. It meant for once I didn't spend the first day talking for hours at a time, but it also meant that after day one, I was already behind on my grading.

Day two came- I gave a "pop quiz" over my syllabus to see who had read it. No one got all the answers right. Since I was using it primarily as a means to go over my policies, I gave students full credit if they starred the correct answers for the ones they missed. I still had students who didn't get all the points. This was my fourteen hour day because the powers that be thought we should have Open House the second day of school and it seemed silly to drive all the way home only to turn around and come back. At least I had one parent in each of my classes - that doesn't always happen.

Finally, Friday was the summer reading test (Tuesdays With Morrie). I've decided summer reading is not accomplishing its purpose. We ask them to read to keep their brains from completely atrophying over the summer, but the majority read it the night before the test or not at all, and so I end up with students getting 18/60 on an easy, easy test. My solution? We need year-round school. But I don't see that happening for at least another decade, so a trip to the drawing board is in order methinks.

There's lots of other stuff that happened - Rob Lewin's birthday party, fighting with Old Navy and losing miserably, a spirited talk during house church about the body of Christ, catching up with old friends to name a few - but I've used up all my writing energy for the evening. Here's hoping once school finds it's groove that I'll be able to be a bit more consistent. Night! Æ

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Now playing: Two Cow Garage - All Sins Forgiven
via FoxyTunes

last days of summer

2008-08-23T14:08:00.006-04:00

And I'm wasting it! Why am I here, typing away on a computer when I should be out enjoying the weekend and the break from the mounting work load of school? Why aren't I sucking the marrow out of life? Carpe Diem!

Oh right. Because it's 90+ degrees with 780% humidity out and the second I step outside of my climate-controlled house I will turn into a disgusting, sweaty mess. This does not appeal to me.

I do need to make a library run - Never Let Me Go is nearly past due and my copy of Lamb : the gospel according to Biff, Christ's childhood pal is waiting to take me on a near-blasphemous trip through Christopher Moore's mind. I can't wait. Here's hoping I don't sweat all over the books, warping them and spoiling the reading experience for some future borrower. Maybe I'll walk really, really slow.

Catch up time. The end of summer was marked by several wonderful events, which for the sake of time will only get a cursory mention instead of the in depth treatment they deserve. Again, blame it on school. The King's X/Extreme show rocked. Couldn't have asked for better weather or better friends to share it with. KX put on a great set, a mix of old and new that if there is any justice in the world won them a few more new fans. Doug was in excellent voice and Ty and Jerry played well. They were missing a touch of showmanship, but oh the sound. Definitely helped being only a handful of rows from the front (thanks Brandon!). I'd never seen Extreme before and they put on an excellent show as well. Gary Cherone is an entertaining showman, though he teetered on the line of self-parody at times (and bore an odd resemblance to Ben Stiller with his hair short). Nuno still has fingers stolen from the devil himself and his playing was stellar. I got some pics, but haven't found a place to post them yet. Maybe I'll do that this afternoon while I'm pretending to be agoraphobic.

I got to make a quick trip up to Canton/Stow/Kent the next day. Met Jenna and Courtney at Jen's house and we lounged around the pool for the afternoon and shared tales of the school year past and anticipation for the one upcoming. Adorable rugrats kept us entertained, which is probably how most of our get togethers will go for the next few years. I also was interviewed for someone's doctoral thesis - she's studying second career teachers and how education programs may better serve them. Interesting to revisit the transition again, do a little evaluation of my experience, see how much cross over there actually is between what I do and what I used to do.

I also got to see Candice one last time before our respective worlds blew up with the start of school. We met at Barnes & Noble and shared our vacation stories and then met Aimee at The Chang for dinner. Always good to catch up, especially since I walked away feeling encouraged as usual. Everyone should have friends like that. I hope you do.

Last weekend (geesh, was it only a week ago) was the Garey family reunion up in Columbiana. Dad is still on bedrest, so I drove up early Saturday morning to drive my mom (and her carfull of items for the auction) up to my cousin Elaine's house. Made for a long day - eleven plus hours of driving once I finally got home around 1:30 AM. But worth it. My Aunt Mary (my grandma's sister) was there and shared the history of the family, which was great. I'm hoping to procure a copy so I can keep it somewhere. So much I've never realized. Was great seeing all the cousins and their spouses and kids. Strange to think I'm the same age my parents were when I remember going to reunions. There was talk about passing on the responsibility to "the next generation" and I realized they were talking about us. Wait, I'm not old enough for that yet, right? Right?

Good to spend some quality time with mom, too. Wasn't sure how it would go, but we had a good time on the drive - I even got her to watch Juno on my iPod. We had hoped Jen would join us, but the night before the reunion her next door neighbor pounded on her door at 12:30 AM, accused her of sideswiping her car and then punched her in the face (?!). I am not making this up. She ended up with a black eye and was in court this past Tuesday for it. Only my sister.

Last Sunday I met with the pastoral council of VC to talk about ordination. Not mine specifically, per se, but the idea of ordination and how it fits in this community. Traditionally ordination has been saved for those earning their livelihood by working in the church. However, since VC doesn't pay its leaders, that criteria doesn't really work. Ordination has also been the mark of those ordained by the church to administer the sacraments. But with our house church set up, those are not reserved only for the ordained. So the question has become, "What does ordination mean in this context?" with a side order of "Should we even be ordaining people?" I gave a brief account of my journey and talked about my own feelings and then we discussed some of the issues facing us as a community. Was good to be part of the discussion and though nothing was settled, it's comforting to see us wrestling with this and not rushing in willy-nilly so to speak. More conversation lies ahead and I'm looking forward to seeing what we decide.

Which brings us up to the beginning of the school year, which I believe I will save for a separate post since this one is already on the lengthy side and there are events from this past week I am still trying to sort through. Nothing too terribly serious, just my entire financial future. Even typing that much makes my head throb.

Off to face the heat. If you're walking in Norwood and see a book floating in a hairy puddle of sweat, you'll know my worst fears came true and I have indeed melted away. Be careful where you walk - would hate to ruin your shoes... Æ

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Now playing: King's X - Goldilox
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friday afternoon crash

2008-08-22T20:34:00.002-04:00

Year six has begun. Three down, one hundred seventy-seven to go. One of the aspects of teaching I always seem to forget is just how exhausted I am come 3:00 Friday afternoon. I got home today and crashed. Hard. No movement from the comfy chair. Woke up around 5:15 completely disoriented. Of course, that means I'll most likely be up 'til the wee small hours of the morning tonight, which is why I've agreed to go see The Dark Knight again. Might as well do something if I can't sleep. Plus I've been meaning to see it a second time, see what I think experiencing it again.

Will try to do a longer post later about the end of summer/beginning of the year, but for now I need to catch up with some Facebook peeps. Just wanted to make sure people who actually come here didn't think I'd completely abandoned them. Blame it on the school year. I know I do.
Æ

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Now playing: Violent Femmes - Black Girls
via FoxyTunes

reasons why I should keep a calendar, #546

2008-08-09T12:14:00.002-04:00

There it was, Thursday afternoon, and I'd just returned from my lunch catching up with Bea, looking forward to a little time before I had to run down to Dr. Crafton's office for my follow up appointment. I checked my email, as I always do, and found one from Ted at Falcon Theatre. They're producing The Boys Next Door this fall and hadn't cast all their roles during the first round of auditions and were having a second round that night and wanted to know if I was interested. Now I had heard they were doing Boys while doing The House of Blue Leaves, but didn't see any audition information until right before they occured - and they were happening the day I was having my surgery, so I wrote them off. So I emailed Ted, asked him when auditions were and made plans to go down, see what would happen.

Unfortunately, my doctor's appointment ran late (4:30 appointment - in to see the doctor at 5:40, out around 6:00), which left me no time to prepare or change clothes like I had hoped. So I headed down to Monmouth and waited for auditions to begin. Only a handful of men were there, some who probably had already been cast, others called in to fill the remaining roles. I knew a little bit about the play, but not much and looking at the script it looked like a great time would be had by all involved. Ted had mentioned they were still looking for a Norman, which is the role I came in to read for (we'll save psychological barriers to auditioning for the "fat guy" role for some other time). I didn't nail the audition, but felt pretty good about it, considering the late notice and the lack of prep time, and knew I had a good chance of getting the part.

Since I'm rarely in Newport (and I had been cleared by my doctor to eat anything again), I decided to grab a steak hoagie. While I waited, I called the 'rents - dad had been released from the hospital and was home. While we chatted about his recovery and such, I told them about the auditions and as we talked, it finally struck me - the show would go up weekends in October, 10-25. The back of my brain began to tingle...something was going on then. And I then realized what it was - Grandma Allen's 80th birthday party would take place on closing night. Devastation. I'd just done something I despise - auditioning for a role I could not play. I thought about contacting the director that night, but realized I had no contact information for him. I suppose I could have emailed Ted, but no guarantee I'd catch him before the director called me.

So I decided to think about it overnight, hoping beyond hope I'd find some solution, but knowing I was just going to have to tell him I couldn't do it when he called. Having directed before, I know how hard casting is and how frustrating it is when you think you have everything figured out only to have it come tumbling down. But better now, at the beginning, than once rehearsals started. Was tough talking to him, my guilt in overdrive, but I explained the situation and apologized profusely. I know I can justify all this - last minute notice about auditions, family obligations, etc. - but I still feel bad. Leaves them in a bind and me looking unprofessional.

The moral of the story: I need a calendar. That I use.

Off to see X-Files this afternoon with Julie. Reviews have been less than glowing, but it will be good to see Mulder and Scully again. We're driving to Florence since they're the only theater still showing matinées. A little more nostalgia for my summer - will remind me of Sunday evenings in Lansing when we'd watch new episodes, what, ten years ago now.

I need to stop having thoughts like this - makes denial much harder.

Off to see King's X/Extreme tomorrow. Sounds like we may have a good crowd, though I've yet to hear from my out-of-towners - looks like I might need to make a phone call find out what's going on. Then Monday I'm off to Canton/Stow/Kent/Cuyahoga Falls to see the gang and participate in the first of several interviews for someone's masters (doctoral?) thesis. We'll see how it goes. Then it's time to start thinking about the "S" word again. Bleah. Not quite there mentally yet. Better come soon - only a week left. Æ

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Now playing: Rhett Miller - Meteor Shower
via FoxyTunes

idle hands and all that

2008-08-06T23:45:00.002-04:00

Today I had nothing planned. I woke up at the usual 7:10AM, walked down to St. E's for morning prayers, walked back to my house and then didn't leave the house again until I went to evening prayers at 9:00. So what happened in the 13 hours between? Very, very little. Watched TV. Uploaded some pics to Facebook. Sent an email or two. Fixed lunch. Read. Took a nap. Fixed dinner. Nice to have a day to do nothing, though too many of them would drive me crazy.

Tomorrow will more than make up for it - prayers, Half-Price Books grand re-opening (I'm hoping to score a free tote bag), lunch with Bea at Panera, doctor's appointment, flash fiction. Feast or famine I suppose.

Dad's back to eating solid food and will probably get out of the hospital on Friday. He won't be able to drive for a while, so either Jen or I will have to drive mom up to the reunion in a couple of weeks. I wasn't sure I was going to make it - it's the weekend before school starts and I have an important meeting on Sunday afternoon, but the reunion itself is on Saturday and we can probably do an up and back, though we're talking 9+ hours in the car. Zoinks!

Doing nothing all day has left me brain dead. Enough trying to find stuff to write about. I'm bored just writing it. Æ

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Now playing: Stevie Nicks - Edge Of Seventeen
via FoxyTunes

do you believe in coincidence?

2008-08-05T11:02:00.003-04:00

This morning I watched an episode of The West Wing and it ended with a montage over Ryan Adams "Desire." Then as I got out of the shower this morning, "Desire" was playing on my iTunes, which I leave on random. I have 14,801 songs on my iTunes - any math wizards out there able to tell me the possibility that that song would just happen to play? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?

Am hating the rain. Hope it doesn't cancel Jake Speed and the Freddies. But I'll go down anyway, just in case. At least I know my tire's fixed.
Æ

here is what I don't understand

2008-08-05T00:50:00.002-04:00

I really don't want to belabor this point, but here it is, nearly one in the morning and I am more awake now than I am in the middle of the day. I took no nap today, I had no caffeine, yet once again I sit here knowing I should be heading to the land of slumber, but not particularly excited about staring into the darkness for another hour or so. Machines haven't helped, neither have drugs, neither has advice. And in two weeks' time it becomes vital I'm in bed before 11:00. I'm not giving up hope yet, but I am getting a little....tired of this.

Last day of self-imposed recovery. No more lying around doing little tomorrow (he says, knowing full well he'll probably do plenty of lying around tomorrow). Up early for prayers, off to Tire Discounters to get my tire looked at and my brakes checked and anything else they can help me with. Hoping if I get there early I won't have to wait too long, but we'll see. Need to be out by 11 so I can go hear Jake Speed down at Piatt Park. Free show. How could I not go? Then to the store to pick up salad for house church and home to clean up before the gang gets here. And I need to try and get details together for this weekend's King's X/Extreme excursion so I can e-mail everyone that expressed interest. Sometime soon I probably should think about cleaning up the downed limbs in my back yard from the storm we had while I was in Colorado.

Sometimes I think I blog just so I have a list of things to do the next day.

Drove up to Dayton Sunday to see dad in the hospital - he'd been experiencing some pain in his stomach while I was in Colorado and then was home when I returned, then went back into the hospital Friday and they did surgery on Saturday. I'll probably screw this up, but had something to do with a hernia and his lower intestine and some petrified vegetable matter clogging up the works. So they went in, fixed the hernia, took out the affected area and reattached the intestine. Sounds fun, no? He had a fever Sunday morning, but by the time I got there, it had gone down and he was doing well. He was a bit on the grumpy side and I can definitely see where I get my aversion to visitors when I'm sick. He'll be in for a few more days, until they're sure everything is flowing smoothly. Was supposed to start fruit juice today, but I guess he wasn't ready, so it will be tomorrow. Doctor said nothing was normal inside - my mom said she could have told them that without opening him up. My mom, the comedian.

Pop culture watch: I tried watching Mad Men tonight since everyone's been raving. None too impressed with the season premiere. Have another episode DVR'd, but not sure it's my kind of show. Am now through season six of The West Wing - I stopped watching during its initial run in season five once Sorkin left. Been fun catching up. I've decided I'm Toby, without the hot ex-wife. I worried a bit it was going to end up over-dramatic like ER with Wells taking over, but while there is some of that (how miserable can we make our favorite characters?), the writing hasn't been too bad. Not Sorkin, for sure, but at times Sorkinesque. Not sure I'll get through season seven by the time school starts and not sure I should. Summer's almost over and I should be outside. But it was good to have them while I recuperated from surgery. And much better than the real-life politics going on nowadays.

Oh yeah, the surgery went well, by the way, other than some minor weeping around one of the constellation of incisions on my midsection. Little bit of panic following surgery when the doctor asked who would be staying with me overnight. I kind of lied and told him Andy, who picked me up, would be with me. See, this seems to be something you should tell someone before surgery, not after. Not all of us live in normal households with other human beings. But all went well with no complications at all. My follow up with the doctor is on Thursday afternoon, so hopefully this will end my organ donation for quite a while. I did get more pics - Leah suggested I should post them for all to see. Or maybe I could frame them and hang them on my walls, kind of like people do with their kids.

I worry about me sometimes.

Gee, so much for typing making me tired enough to sleep. And I don't even have anything to rant and rave about this time. I did post the stuff I wrote on my trip, so you can go back and see what randomness went through my head on my vacation. No pics - that will have to come later. Maybe with my gall bladder shots. You can barely contain your excitement, I'm sure.

Time to at least try to sleep. Maybe reading will help me fall asleep - in the middle of Ishiguro's Never Let Me Go, recommended by Jenna to go along with my adventures in organ "donation." Such a clever girl that one. To bed, to bed, to bed.
Æ

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Now playing: The Black Crowes - Jealous Again
via FoxyTunes

vacation's over - time for surgery!

2008-07-31T10:17:00.002-04:00

it seems my blog has been having an averse effect on some people, so i put a warning up. just trying to be a conscientious blogger.

leaving in about an hour for the hospital to have another useless organ removed, this time by choice. say goodbye to my gall bladder - we hardly knew ye (except for those moments you caused us excruciating pain).

stuck in a post-vacation hangover - will have to wait to update my blog for this weekend when i'm recovering. but my vacation was amazing, thanks to the great hospitality of alexa and ryan and shannon and paul. i couldn't imagine having a better time. i got to do everything i wanted and then some. stories to follow, as well as some pics.

be back soon!
Æ

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Now playing: Mugison - Mugiboogie
via FoxyTunes

Somewhere over a bunch of red states....

2008-07-29T22:00:00.000-04:00

Joy! I'm in a row by myself - the businessman assigned to the seat next to me moved to an empty row. I was toying with the same, but being by the window made it a bit trickier to offer. Amazing how much better a trip can be when you can cross your legs.

E-mail from Brenda today - seems she might be in Cincy end of August and we're going to try and do dinner. She said we'd try and avoid talking about remarriage and divorce, though she did read my post and said I made a persuasive argument. Me, I'm still dealing with my own recent doubts. I wonder what love requires. Brent boiled it down to John 3:16 and love, which raises more questions in my head than it answers. What is the most loving action? Does love mean we can ignore the teachings of Christ? How do we determine if it's God's love or our own desires? We humans can rationalize anything - I know I don't trust myself to know what is most loving in a given situation. I'm more likely to go with my will than God's. Which I suppose is why I'm trying to sort this out now, relying on "religious dogma," instead of waiting until a situation arises.

Or maybe I'm just in avoidance mode.

The sun sets behind me and along with it my journey west. Was tough to leave - though I am looking forward to my own bed, I can't say I'm excited to be coming back to Ohio, with its heat and humidity and bugs and lack of mountains. I wonder how different life would be if I'd ended up in Colorado for grad school. Perhaps I'd have ended up back in Ohio anyway. I think part of my heart will always long to be in the mountains. They heal me and cleanse me in ways I do not understand. I know God can do the same in Ohio - I need to find those spaces. And I need to use them.

Will be interesting to see how sleep goes when I get back. Toward the end I was sleeping seven hours a night, give or take. Of course, I was on mountain time, so I was going to bed at 2-3 AM normal time some nights. Hard to believe I've only a couple weeks to get my act together. Where did my summer break go?

Still, lots to do before the 18th - gall bladder surgery, MST3K party, King's X/Extreme concert, trip to Kent, plus house church and flash fiction and as many activities as I can jam into my remaining time. Have to say though - this trip to Colorado certainly pushed this summer over the memorable edge. Glad I did it. thankful for friends who are willing to let me crash their lives for days at a time. Couldn't have asked for better hosts.

Another hour, hour and a half before we land. Think I'll try to read some and maybe drift off to sleep. Jen and James are supposed to pick me up - dad's still in the hospital. Hope they figure out what's wrong with him soon. He ate yesterday, which is a good sign. Night.
Æ

Denver Airport - Third and final time

2008-07-29T18:30:00.001-04:00

No idea if this flight will be packed, but it probably will be. Timing's been good - got to the airport, ate a quick bite, moved smoothly through the security theatre, grabbed a Snickers for the flight, emptied my bladder and now am waiting to board. Should have started by now, but no such luck.

Ah, I wrote too soon. There's the announcement to board. More on the plane.
Æ

the last day

2008-07-29T11:30:00.000-04:00

Last day in Colorado. I'm sitting in the Old Colorado City Library, killing some time before Paul comes to pick me up. And I just decided I can do this outside. And I just got a call from Paul, so this will be a short burst.

Yesterday, I rented a bike at a little place called Colorado Kite and Ski in Old Colorado City, which is why I'm here today, returning it. If you ever find yourself in need of a bike, I highly recommend the place - cheapest rate in town and they were willing to work with me so I could keep it overnight. No credit card deposit required. Made it quite enjoyable. OK, enough with the free advertising.

Took a ride out to Garden of the Gods, then down into Manitou Springs again, then back to the Springs and Paul and Shannon's. Lovely way to see the Garden, though that first hill exhausted me. I always think of Singles and the biker guy who claims "I like the way the world looks from a bicycle." Not even the threat of rain could ruin the ride. Lightning in the mountains made it more interesting. I was last at GotG on my personally infamous trip to Denver a decade ago. I still have pics from then, so I didn't take too many this time. Quite the view - and quite crowded. Glad I was on my bike. I am constantly amazed at how rocks can be beautiful (no offense, Scott). A different kind of beauty than the wooded mountains, but capable of stealing my breath nonetheless.

Am hoping to spend some time writing tonight at the airport, processing the trip a bit, trying to draw a line of story through what happened. Seems so long ago since Ft. Thomas, but it's only been a week. And the flight out even longer. I'm glad. Better than it feeling short.

Sarah wrote yesterday - she had talked to Shannon and knew I was here, but thought I had driven out. She asked if Shannon had done her married duty and tried to set me up. Had to laugh when I read that. I did get the chance to spend a couple of evenings with two lovely friends of Shannon's, but they definitely did not feel like set ups. Perhaps I've been too successful at cultivating the image of the content bachelor....

Paul is here. More later. Æ

Jose Muldoon's

2008-07-26T13:30:00.000-04:00

Decided to do lunch. Could have gone back to the Marchese's but...I've been craving Mexican. And we might go somewhere else later, but...I wanted Mexican. Now. Instant gratification, I am they slave.

TMI moment - I'm a bit moist right now. Shirt is soaked with sweat, which is one reason I decided to sit outside - let the air dissipate any unfortunate odor and dry me off. I just hope the gaggle of girls next to me aren't too disgusted by my presence. Of course, they're to busy discussing the vagaries of the service industry to even notice me.

Listening to Shannon talk about her job in publishing got me thinking again of adapting Summers' Last into book form. It feels like it shouldn't be too difficult - the story is there, I would just need to add some more description. I want to ask Shannon what she thinks, but wonder if it would be taking advantage of our friendship. I don't know the etiquette on this. I've got 3 1/2 days to figure it out.

3 1/2 days of vacation left. Sad.

Mom called yesterday - dad had to go to the hospital - they thought it was a kidney problem, but they ruled that out and now think it's some kind of intestinal blockage. We Allen's and our gastric problems. Next week at this time I'll be recovering from my gall bladder surgery. Joy. Probably trying to squeeze too much in, but that's what breaks are for.

Lunch is done - not too impressed. Probably should have waited. Ah well, that's what vacations are for - taking chances. Æ

Columbine Trail

2008-07-26T11:00:00.000-04:00

This is the way to spend a Saturday morning - on a trail in the mountains, the caress of a breeze on your face, an overcast sky clearing to a vivid blue. And sweet, sweet silence. For a weekend, I'm surprised there are not more people here. I've only passes one other hiker and seen a couple of riders. Voices have echoed periodically, but other than that I could be alone up here. Which is just what I wanted.

Spoke too soon. A couple other hikers just appeared. And I think they want the bench I'm sitting on. Why should I feel guilty? No reason. I was here first. And yet I do.

Been listening to God here in the silence. Candice reminded me before I left how significant Colorado has been in my life. 'Twas ten years ago that God shook me from my path and set me on another. Nothing earth shaking this time. No grand revelations. No serendipitous epiphanies. No wisdom brought down from the mountain. Not that God hasn't been here - hard to miss his footprints and fingerprints in this place. I do feel more grounded, more balanced than when I started, though sleep still eludes me. This trip has been healing, which I definitely needed.

So why do I wish it had been more?

Ridiculous, really. Expecting lightning to strike twice? Madness. And let's be honest - a little harder now to start over than it was ten years ago. But there's that fear of growing stagnant, complacent, seeking comfort more than adventure - or worse, comfort more than God's will. Yet I suppose still listening, still seeking what lies over the next mountain demonstrates a willingness to be surprised - and that alone should keep me from being too complacent.

I could stay here all day, but I should be headed back. We're off to Boulder tonight to see some Shakespeare - The Scottish Play, methinks. Been a while since I've seen it performed in its entirety. Here's hoping it's a good production. Æ

Red Rocks Canyon

2008-07-24T15:30:00.000-04:00

Not to be confused with the amphitheater. This is in Colorado Springs. Came here instead of Garden of the Gods because 1) I've been to Garden of the Gods before and 2) fewer tourists. You can still here the distant sounds of civilization - cars, chain saws - but still quite peaceful. Thunder also rolls, which makes my stopping a bit risky, but I don't think the rain will come. Or maybe I should say hope.

The trade off Tuesday went swimmingly (pun intended). WaterWorld was quite fun, though I was reminded why I haven't been in over ten years. Besides the interminable waiting in lines for a 30 second ride, I was struck by the flesh factor - so much skin, so little covering. Wouldn't have been so bad were not 90% of the patrons not under the legal drinking age. Guess I felt just a bit...creepy. But the five of us (Ryan's brother Dane joined us) had great fun sliding and slashing our way through the day.

Then we went to a microbrewery called Hops and met Paul and Shannon. There's always some trepidation when your world's collide, even if it was your idea. But all turned out well. No forced conversations, no awkward silences. An excellent transition 'tween the halves of my trip. We said our goodbyes at Hops and then Paul, Shannon and I headed into Denver to see the Rockies demolish the Dodgers 10-1. If you don't really care about the teams, you definitely want a high scoring game, which is exactly what we got. Fantastic seats, along the third base line. A wonderful night at the ballpark.

Still facing the dilemma I wrote about earlier - why I don't live here. And I know the rasons, mostly coming down to momentum. But what would it take to spring me out here? two thoughts come to mind - work or love. Both of those require action on my part, so the odds, not so good. But God has done greater and more unexpected things. Time to be moving on. More if time allows. Æ

canoe-dling

2008-07-21T10:00:00.000-04:00

At a small lake not far from Alexa's - decided to take a bike ride to give her a break from playing hostess. Plus I needed some alone time to recharge, to think, to write. Had planned on getting up early this morning and writing, but my old friend insomnia stopped by and kept me up 'til the wee hours. So much for my hope that a change of scenery might help.

did I mention how amazing the scenery is here? Again, I'm faced with the question, "Why is it again I don't live here?" Add to that the amazing bicycle paths and lanes they have here and I truly have to question what holds me in Ohio - other than family, friends, an amazing church community, a house payment, a great job...OK, so sacrifices would have to be made...

Took my first trip to the great state of Wyoming. Went with Ryan, Alexa, Marcus and Ryan's friend Ethan and Ethan's mom and dad Bob and Carel. We drove up Friday night and set up camp in what seemed like the middle of nowhere, but ended up being a beautiful campsite right by the North Platte River. We woke up early and dropped off one of the cars at Pick Bridge, then drove through Saratoga up to Treasure Island, about 20 miles up river.

WARNING: This next part of the story will give you a terrifying look into how my brain works. Enter at your own risk.

Since there were seven of us and only three canoes, it meant one canoe would have three people. So Ryan, Alexa and I went in their new canoe (The Pelican), with Alexa in front, Ryan steering and me in the middle. We pushed off into the current went about one canoe length and promptly flipped the canoe. Luckily, it was still shallow, so we drained the canoe, got everything bakc in and headed off. Two canoe lengths later we flipped again, this time spilling our lunch into the North Platte, plastic wrapped sandwiches and Clif bars doing a much better job at navigating the current than we had so far. I quickly deduced it was my fault we had flipped and even suggested perhaps it would be better if I stayed behind. I was after all the stranger here. And let's be honest - my added weight significantly increased the difficulty. Luckily, none of the acknowledged my suggestion and after some shifting around, I ended up sitting in the middle of Bob and Carel's canoe.

Now if you've ever been canoing, you know the center seat is either the best seat or the worst. If you like sitting back, doing nothing, enjoying the view, it's great. Unfortunately, I was looking for a little more than that. So while I sat there, doing nothing, my brain, as it tends to do sometimes, began to convince me I had ruined everyone's day, that I'd spoiled a beautiful day of canoing because I couldn't manage to stay in the boat. And sitting there, completely useless, seemed to me at the moment a metaphor for my life: fat, unbalanced, the dead weight, the proverbial third wheel. As always, I knew none of this was true - I'd been canoing and was rather good at it. But I felt it was true, and at that moment, nothing else mattered.

But a teh sun slid higher in the sky and the river slipped beneath us, the beauty and serenity of the landscape washed away my darkness. I climbed out of myself and became lost in God's grandeur breathing all around me. The ripple of the river. The languid flight of a pelican. The swallows swooping over the surface of the river. Bald eagles perched atop steely cliffs. This is what nature does - it draw us out of ourselves, our endless ponderings and reminds us we are but a part of a magnificent whole. It's hard to stare at your navel with a mountain looming over you.

After a couple hours on the river, we switched seating arrangements and I ended up in the front of Ethan's canoe. And suddenly my body remembered what it was doing and soon we were cruising down the river, pointing out bucks on the bank, drifting beneath an impossibly blue sky, laughing as Ryan and Marcus hit a tree and flipped their canoe. I even proved an excellent asset in the many water battles that marked the last half of our trip. And when we stopped on the shore and Ethan, the veteran of many a canoe trip, shook my hand and praised my canoing skills, the small, ugly voice that had haunted me in the morning, threw up his hands in disgust and evaporated in the Wyoming sun.

day three

2008-07-18T07:45:00.001-04:00

Day three in Colorado, first time writing here, mostly because we've kept pretty active. Botanical gardens. LoDo. Cherry Creek. Airport. Ft. Collins. City Park. PF Chang's. Buying a canoe. Pus, it feels rude to sit and write while visiting.

Of course, it's just after 7:15 now and I've been up for over an hour and everyone else is asleep, so I sit here in an Adirondack chair staring at the hint of mountains in the distance, visited by family pets and trying to ignore the noisy squawking of the blue jays. I'd hoped being here would wake my slumbering muse, but she still dozes, oblivious to my need for her. I think back to my last visit here, must before the great train adventure and remember the words that poured from my pen, thoughts and insights that now seem written by someone long gone. What was it about that time? Was I more aware? More open? More awake?

Or perhaps it was because I had 10-12 hours a day on a train with nothing to do but write....

Lately I've felt like I've been stumbling through my days half-asleep and while the insomnia contributes some to that, there's something deeper going on. I'm broken inside, only I can't find the cause, only the symptoms. Sleeplessness, self-loathing, joylessness. An easy annoyance with life. A sense of being left behind, stuck watching others lives change and grow.

I am reminded again of the quote Karin shared during her talk in June - "Comparison is the thief of joy." How true and how difficult to live out.

I look at the horizon and know the beauty of the mountains in the distance, but the morning mist blurs and fades, giving only an impression of what lies there, obscuring their gradeur. But as the sun climbs the clouds behind me, the peaks become clearer, sharper, inspiring, beckoning. We see now through a glass darkly, but clarity will come. Slowly. In its own time. We cannot push it. We can only wait. Æ

a beginning

2008-07-16T08:00:00.002-04:00

DIA, waiting for my flight to Denver to board. Vacation, 2008. I'm not nearly as excited as I thought I'd be, but then I've been up over 2 1/2 hours and it's not yet 8:00 AM, so tht might have something to do with it. Yet it's clear something's not right within me. Insomnia. Bursts of anger. Feelings of worthlessness. Abnegation of hope. Not the way you want to start a vacation. Of course, perhaps it's OK, proving the need I have for a vacation, a change of venue, of pace, of routine. I know there's something off-kilter, judging from the symptoms, but I cannot pinpoint what it is. Perhaps stepping back for a bit will help.

My brain is not here. Will write later. Going to start The Road by Cormac McCarthy. Mom said it was bittersweet. Definitely not what I need right now. But it's what I have. Æ

i lost my phone

2008-07-13T21:02:00.003-04:00

we live in fascinating times. here i am, my phone left in the backseat of a friend's car, able to jump online and check to see if anyone has called my phone from my computer. there was a time not that long ago where an extended trip like the one i'm preparing to take meant expecting to be away from your phone for a while. now i'm driving up to mason tomorrow morning to make sure that doesn't happen. how swiftly time changes. the strange thing is, i had hoped to make a couple of phone calls tonight. and though no one ever calls, i'm afraid i'm going to miss a call tonight. don't know what you've got 'til it's gone, right?

i sat down this afternoon at moe's to try and write down some thoughts following the visitation for susan's husband, but nothing came. i have no words for a situation like this, for two little girls left wondering what happened to their father and if it means their cat and dog might leave them as well. i have no words for the swirl of emotions on susan's face as we methodically made our way through the line to where she stood, just in front of the casket. my feelings on visitations are well-documented and i won't go into them again. i only wish i had words that would help, or the power to take the pain away. but i do not. and quote woody all you want, but showing up for things like this rarely feels like success. it feels like the absolute least i can do.

the clouds have been following me all day, stealing my thoughts and distracting me from the thoughts still lingering about. right now they're shadowed against a dimming sky. this afternoon they were brilliant white in an impossibly blue sky. no ducks or figures or mythical creatures, just a reminder that life is filled with unimaginable beauty we miss every day because we're too busy staring into the abyss.

we're moving on.

blood work tomorrow morning. trip to mason to pick up my phone after that. home to probably mow my lawn, unless rain intervenes, which looks unlikely, dagnabit. do some laundry. start laying out what i need to pack. then back to the exact same building from the blood test for a meeting with my sleep doctor about my future with the damned bipap machine. then more prep for the trip. hard to believe it's coming so soon. it's times like this i wish i were a list maker, but i'm not, as it was at the beginning, so it is now and so it shall ever be, world without end. need to begin throwing stuff i want to take into a centralized location as i think of it so i don't leave stuff behind. which i will.

the museum has an exhibit going on now of photographs by gregory crewdson. you can do a google search to see some of his work. if you're in the cincy area or are going to be in the cincy area before oct. 5, check it out. huge prints of staged scenes that feel like captured moments from a david lynch film or a real-life version of a hopper painting. make sure you stop by the gift shop to look at the book beneath the roses before you leave. haven't been this taken with a photographer since peter lik.

enough for tonight. want to try and finish west wing season four before i leave tuesday. seems doable, especially since i don't sleep anymore. night. Æ

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Now playing: Patty Griffin - When It Don't Come Easy
via FoxyTunes

a couple of shots

2008-07-12T19:19:00.004-04:00

took some time this afternoon and went down to the cincinnati art museum to get my art fix since the next art walk isn't until the end of august and to give me a chance to play with my new camera. below are a couple of the shots i took, coincidentally, both sculptures of eve.

Eve Disconsolate - Powers

Eve Hearing the Voice - Ezekiel

i was hoping to get a picture of another sculpture - Bacchant and Bacchante with a Cupid by Clodion - but it's either been removed or is in part of the museum being renovated. it inspired a poem of mine and i wanted a visual to go with the words. of course it's not one of the pics on the museum's website. will have to keep looking and hope it shows.

8:00 PM and i haven't eaten dinner yet. i want pizza, or something similar, but i can't get up the motivation to go and get it. could walk to larosas for a calzone, or betta's, though last time i had a betta's calzone was when i had my last gall bladder attack. being lazy and being hungry do not mix well.

i am full of depth tonight. off to forage for food. Æ

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Now playing: Luna - We're Both Confused
via FoxyTunes

loss

2008-07-11T23:28:00.003-04:00

tonight, after discovering the one thing i thought i had planned today wasn't happening, i decided to bike up to steak n shake for some dinner and to try out my newly purchased bike rack and lights. while i was eating and reading from the practice of spiritual direction, i got a call from my friend andy. unfortunately, it was to relay sad news. my friend susan's husband died unexpectedly this week, leaving her with two young children to look after. i guess you never really get used to this, the surprising nature of death. my heart weeps for susan and her children. visitation is sunday afternoon and some of us are meeting at the high school to head over.

The LORD is close to the brokenhearted
and saves those who are crushed in spirit.
Psalm 34:18

i believe this, but then i'm not the one dealing directly with the loss. i hurt because susan does, but i cannot know the pain she is going through. but i trust God to surround her with those who can help. i pray for that.

i leave for denver in less than five days now. lots of stuff to get done between now and then. i have two doctor's appointments on monday and a hair appointment on tuesday. and i have to mow my lawn sometime before i leave. i've been putting it off so i can cut it right before i leave and let it grow while i'm gone. my only fear is rain will spoil my plans. guess i should check the weather for monday/tuesday. the goal is to head up to dayton on tuesday, see friends, spend time with the 'rents, and then get up way too early for my 8:30 flight. we'll see how well my plans work out.

it occurs to me that perhaps i should not be announcing to the world that i will be gone to colorado. but since i'll have people keeping an eye on my house, i'm not too concerned. not like anyone reads this anyway and those that do probably wouldn't break into my house. probably.

been spending my days watching the west wing. i figured since i was already tired of all the politics in the real world, i'd prefer to spend time with the politics i like. i miss the cadence of sorkin's writing. i miss the quirkiness of the characters. but i'm enjoying revisiting the bartlet years and it helps to remove the bitter taste of real life politics from my mouth. i'm into season four now and he's just slammed richie in the debate and won re-election. i'm not remembering as much from this season and soon i'll get to the later seasons when i stopped watching. why was that? oh that's right, i started teaching. silly me.

been playing with my camera - quite happy with my purchase. still learning how to use all the features and i'm not ready to post anything just yet, but might have a shot or two before i leave for colorado and if not, i know i'll have some upon my return. my favorite part is being able to delete shots - it allows me to play without wasting film. fun to see what different settings will do to the picture. not a big fan of the flash so far - i much prefer natural light when i can, though i know i won't be able to rely on that alone all the time. nice being a part of the digital age.

ok, time for sleep, if it comes. no alarm tomorrow, so we'll see what happens. seems to me six hours is about all i get anymore, not matter how early i go to bed. was in bed by 11 last night and woke up around 5 am. bleah. why can't i be normal? (insert your own joke here). night. Æ

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Now playing: The National - Start A War
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wideawake

2008-07-08T01:31:00.002-04:00

gave up after 45 minutes of tossing and turning and decided to come in and try to type myself into sleepiness. not sure it will work, but the usual things are not helping and i'm trying to stay away from pills, especially since my alarm will sound in about 5 1/2 hours and the pills are good for eight. brain won't shut off, body won't cool down, so here i am. aren't you lucky?

guess now is as good a time as any to get into that glorious discussion of marriage and divorce and remarriage i keep yammering on about. first, however, a disclaimer or two. these thoughts are ones i am wrestling with. i don't claim to have all the answers - heck, i'm not even sure i'm asking the right questions. but to paraphrase brother merton, i believe my desire to please does in fact please. the following thoughts come from my interpretation of scripture. i have no "word of the Lord" or particular insight God has provided and much of the time i wish i believed otherwise because, well, it would make life less complicated. or more complicated, depending on how you see it.

enough stalling. i just wanted to make it clear the opinions expressed below are not necessarily the opinions expressed Above and if you already have rejected the thoughts from Above, then you're not going to think much of my thoughts below.

i don't think that made it clear, but i'm going to go on anyway.

back in seminary i came to the belief that in some circumstances, God does indeed permit divorce. this came from a reading of the usual old and new testament scriptures on marriage and divorce, specifically Christ's words in matthew, Paul's words in corinthians, and the storyteller's words in genesis about man and woman and one flesh. divorce is never the ideal and always a last resort, but there are times and places where the most loving action for both parties is to dissolve a harmful relationship. the other belief i came to during this time was that while divorce may be necessary at times, remarriage after divorce is not permitted under any circumstances.

i realize this seems like a grace-less position. how can someone be held responsible for decisions made at a young age? how can someone be held responsible for decisions made by another person? how can someone pay the price for another's sin? what kind of God would punish someone like that? what about grace? what about forgiveness?

originally, in the guarded ivory tower that is academia, those answers came easily. the example i used to use went something like this: a person in a moment of poor judgment has unprotected sex with a stranger and later discovers that they have an std. will God grant them forgiveness for their sin? of course. will he take away the consequence of that sin? no. His forgiveness does not wipe away the human consequences of the sin. that person will live the rest of their life with that std.

i then would draw the parallels - yes, God is able to forgive the sin of divorce - it is not the "unforgivable sin" many churches preach, either explicitly or implicitly. however, the breaking of the marriage covenant has consequences and we must live with those consequences. which, according to my reading of scripture, specifically matthew 19 and i corinthians 7, meant no remarriage.

most of the objections i've heard fall under what i label as the "But that's not fair!" argument. it's not fair that God would punish both parties equally when the other was unfaithful/dishonest/abusive/fill-in-the-blank. it's not fair that God would hold us accountable for decisions made in the "heat of the moment" or in the " throes of young love." it's not fair for God to expect someone to remain single for the rest of their lives.

i think most of these objections take a weak view of marriage. they reduce marriage to a contract between a man and a woman instead of a covenant between two souls and their God. in many ways, my understanding of marriage is more sacramental in nature - it is not so much something we do (though obviously the couple has an important part to play), but something God does. it is He that knits the souls together. it is He that weaves two separate stories into one. it is He that makes the two one, transforms them into one flesh.

because it is something God does, we cannot simply break it apart. it is why Christ declares "the two will become one flesh. So they are no longer two, but one. Therefore what God has joined together, let man not separate" and follows it up with "Anyone who divorces his wife and marries another woman commits adultery against her. And if she divorces her husband and marries another man, she commits adultery" (Mark 10:8-9, 11-12).

so while we in our humanness see a broken contract, God sees us as one flesh still, which is why remarriage is seen as adultery. the contract may be broken, but the covenant still exists. which of course is much easier to hold on to in the rarefied air of the seminary classroom than in reality.

i also see these objections taking a weak view of the single life as well. many of the objections see being forced to remain single as a horrible punishment, like being single is a fate worse than death. God wouldn't expect anyone to live like that, especially someone who has already tasted the glorious fruits of the married life. it would be cruel to expect them to spend the rest of their lives without someone, wouldn't it?

obviously, i have a lovely set of baggage to go with this attitude, being unmarried as well as celibate. but it's hard for me to feel much sympathy for someone who will be "cursed" to be like i am. though not intended, it sets up the married life as the ideal and the single life as the less than, even though Christ himself was single (no matter what dan brown says) and Paul wished "that all men were as I am" (I Cor. 7:7).

the disconnect for me occurs on many different fronts. i've seen God bless second (and even third) marriages. i've seen friends torn apart by people they've loved who turned out to not be the person they believed them to be. i've heard viable objections raised - what about the verses where Jesus says "except for marital infidelity"(Matt. 19:9)? what about Paul's admonition, "if the unbeliever leaves, let him do so. A believing man or woman is not bound in such circumstances" (I Cor. 7:15)?

it's circumstances like this that have made me revisit and wrestle with my beliefs recently. maybe there are times when remarriage is permitted. but the problem is, when? marital infidelity would seem the simple answer, but how do you define that? is it simply having sex with someone who is not your spouse? or could it be for emotional or intellectual infidelity? what about abuse - could that be seen as a breaking of the marital vows? who makes the decision what is a viable reason for an "lawful" divorce? do we need to make a list? do we deal with it on a case by case basis? and if so, what principles do we judge those cases?

and my own baggage confuses the matter. what if i'm questioning my beliefs, not because i think they might be wrong, but because by abandoning them, i increase the possibility that i may not be cursed with having to live the rest of my life single? let's be honest - the odds of me finding someone to spend what little remains of my life who has never been married are becoming slimmer. cutting myself off from potential dates simply because they've been married before smacks of elitism - i'm better than you because i've never been married.

and yet i can't shake the feeling that perhaps we'd be better off if we saw marriage as a truly once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. how many of us would take more time getting to know the person we're going to marry if we knew we only got one shot to get it right? how many of us would work harder at the relationship knowing if this goes bad, there won't be a chance for another? what if we saw ourselves as God sees us - as one flesh - and realized to tear that asunder wouldn't leave two separate souls, but two half ones?

ok, it's been almost two hours and i'm still not tired and i definitely haven't come to any grand conclusions. but the ideas are out there. feel free to disagree or even try to convince me i'm wrong. part of me would be happy to be convinced i'm in error. but only if it's to serve God's glory, not my own wants and needs. Æ

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Now playing: Emmylou Harris - Plaisir d'Amour
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randomness

2008-07-06T23:00:00.003-04:00

not feeling much like getting into the whole marriage/divorce talk tonight, so you're spared my ramblings for the time being. and i have little purpose in coming here other than to see if perhaps writing will lead me somewhere tonight. been a remarkably lazy day. played for worship at church, came home, took a long nap, watched some west wing, went for a bike ride, watched some more west wing and am now here. why does my ride feel like the only productive activity i did all day?

i watched dan in real life last night. decent flick - steve carell was excellent and understated and i enjoyed watching the film, though i doubt the ending could ever have happened that way. the basic conflict is dan meets this amazing woman who turns out to be his brother's new girlfriend. i know i was supposed to be rooting for dan, but it seemed...wrong. is this just me? i've been told not everyone feels this way, but if someone is taken, that's it. you move on. heck, i've been in situations where i found out someone else was interested, not even dating, and i felt like i needed to back off my own interest. can't say i've always followed this, but it is my default position, which in some ways does seem a little silly considering i'm limiting my already incredibly limited options. but it doesn't feel honorable. not that that matters much nowadays i suppose.

been reading a couple of books on spiritual direction. the first one, holy listening: the art of spiritual direction, was a good introduction to the concept and some of the issues surrounding it. the second one, the practice of spiritual direction, seems a bit drier. maybe i'll save it for bed time, to help with my insomnia. just kidding.

weird...corey hart's "never surrender" is playing right now on my itunes. i was just singing this song tonight on my bike ride. so completely random. freaks me out when stuff like this happens, though i should be used to it by now. "so if you're lost and on your own/you can never surrender" come on, everybody sing!

or not.

i need a new fiction book to read. i tried using a couple of recommendation sites, but nothing caught my attention. jenna suggested never let me go because of my tendency to have organs removed. maybe i'll look into it...shoot! i just remembered i didn't remember to return my library books yesterday. i think if i get them in before 10AM tomorrow they won't be considered late. need to remember to take them with me to prayers so i can walk up and drop them off. kept thinking all weekend i needed to do that and, well, i didn't. anyway, if anyone has any suggestions, let me know. ideally, a paperback would be best for my upcoming travel, but i'll take anything.

according to ups, my new camera should be here on tuesday. it's in columbus right now, so i was kind of hoping it might find it's way here tomorrow, but with processing and all, tuesday seems like my best bet. no sign of the memory card, which is bad because i think i might have to send it back. looks like some of the features on the camera only work with olympus memory cards, which blows, but what are you gonna do? i'm not a big fan of this waiting part. i want to play with it now. at least i'll have it in time for the trip, with a couple days to play with the features.

let's see, plans for the week...we moved house church to wednesday so steve and i could go see hellboy 2 (he got free passes). plus it worked out better for john, so i don't feel so bad. we watched the first one friday night. i like the character of hellboy - reminds me of tom waits for some reason, if tom waits were a large demon-like creature from another dimension. maybe i just have tom on the brain. other than that, that's all i've got. was hoping to pick up a shift or two at the auditorium, but haven't heard word one from jack, so who knows.

well, no grand epiphanies tonight. guess i'll go try and steal some sleep. i'm hoping the ride helped wear me out. was going to take a pill, but someone recommended avoiding them, so we'll try to sleep without. night all.
Æ

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Now playing: Willard Grant Conspiracy - River In The Pines
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some thoughts from uncle fred

2008-07-04T17:19:00.002-04:00

from whistling in the dark...

All "isms" run out in the end, and good riddance to most of them. Patriotism for example.

If patriots are people who stand by their country right or wrong, Germans who stood by Adolf Hitler and the Third Reich should be adequate proof that we've had enough of them.

If patriots are people who believe not only that anything they consider unpatriotic is wrong but that anything they consider wrong is unpatriotic, the late Senator Joseph McCarthy and his backers should be enough to make us avoid them like the plague.

If patriots are people who believe things like "Better Dead Than Red," they should be shown films of Hiroshima and Nagasaki on August 6 and 9, 1945, respectively, and then be taken off to the funny farm.

The only patriots worth their salt are the ones who love their country enough to see that in a nuclear age it is not going to survive unless the world survives. True patriots are no longer champions of Democracy, Communism, or anything like that but champions of the Human Race. It is not the Homeland they feel called on to defend at any cost but the planet Earth as Home. If in the interests of making sure we don't blow ourselves off the map once and for all, we end up relinquishing a measure of national sovereignty to some international body, so much the worse for national sovereignty.

There is only one Sovereignty that matters ultimately and it is of another sort altogether.
Frederick Buechner

to quote the bard...'Twas a rough night.

2008-07-03T08:37:00.003-04:00

so i entered full-blown insomnia last night - couldn't fall asleep and then once i did doze off for about 23 minutes, i woke again, unable to fall back asleep. so much for going without the sleep aids i have. i read for a while, watched arrested development for a while, walked around the neighborhood a while, caught up on some correspondence for a while and then went to prayers and started my as usual day. must have been something in the air last night - lots of friends on facebook late last night, saw a couple different postings that people had difficulty sleeping. wonder if some thing was affecting our collective unconscious. i'm feeling ok right now, but am a bit concerned about tonight's flash fiction and being completely brain dead by the time 7PM rolls around. i probably should avoid taking a nap today, but not sure that will be possible. will have to see how i feel this afternoon.

ok, we'll call this next section things i've wanted to write about, to catch up.

first, tom was amazing. definitely ranks up their in my favorite concert experiences. he's the consummate showman and leaves it all on the stage. by the end of the show, his entire suit was drenched in sweat - you could watch the stain slowly creeping down his back. i know a lot of people have trouble with his voice, but it's the instrument God gave him and he knows how to use it. it is a force of nature and the power and emotion he brings to every song is a wonder to behold. definitely worth the price of admission and then some. so glad i got tickets.

brian and i got there a little after 7, about an hour and a half before he came on stage. good thing, since it took us almost that long to get to the front of the merch table. tom doesn't usually sell schwag at his shows, so everyone was getting something, many people buying multiple options. i'm sure ebay is littered with them, unfortunately. i, too, took advantage and bought a shirt (just one) while brian bought one of each design (but he'll wear them). great moment: as soon as brian and i go to the front, the guy manning our part of the table declared it for credit card customers only, even though he'd been doing both previously. frustrated, we made our way to another side of the table. when the guy came over, another fan let us go first, probably after hearing us complain to the merch table guy. we thanked him profusely for his kindness, which turned out to be a good thing since he ended up sitting in the seats right next to us. we then turned around and passed it on, letting some other fans go into the theater before us. quite the eclectic mix of fans, from younguns in shorts and t-shirts to guys and girls dressed to the hilt in true waitsian fashion. the crowd was well behaved (other than the drunk/stoned guy behind us who got a bit belligerent during the show - i thought brian might jump up and bitchslap him) and quite responsive, which tom rewarded by giving us two encores.

tom did a great variety of tunes, leaning heavily on his more recent songs, understandably. the live arrangements were great to hear. his reed player was amazing - like having an entire sax section in one guy. he played tenor and bari at the same time, and played them well, which is impressive to say the least. the other players were solid - nothing terribly flashy, but then they weren't the focus - tom was. favorite moments: cold, cold ground, cemetery polka, eyeball kid, lie to me and of course, time. i've already picked up a bootleg copy of the show - not the best quality and there's some overly enthusiastic woman screaming occasionally, but nice to have a memento to remember the evening by.

wow. that went on much longer than i anticipated. maybe instead of trying to squeeze this into one post, i'll do a couple of others over the course of the day - at least it will keep me awake.

need to walk down to the post office - spent part of my insomnia time this morning writing a couple of postcards to friends i've lost touch with in hopes that snailmail will work where email has not. figured it couldn't hurt to try, right?

will be back later (unless i end up comatose, drooling in my comfy chair) with thoughts on our house church discussion of marriage and divorce and my upcoming trip to the great state of colorado. mmm...mountains....Æ

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Now playing: Priscilla Ahn - Dream
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