Number seven: nominal vanity [3]
Exodus 20:7 - "You shall not misuse the name of the LORD your God for the LORD will not hold anyone guiltless who misuses his name."
On Saturday night I heard someone say while they were praying, "I can't pray through my own name so I'll pray through Yours," and it was good. It was good for me to hear.
When I was younger, I liked to watch Disney's The Prince and the Pauper (1990) as much as I could when I visited my dad every other weekend. Something about the story just made me love it. One weekend I brought it home with me (with permission) and was watching it with my mum in the room. When they got to this part about the evil things that the Captain of the Guard was doing, "in the king's name," I turned to my mom and asked what it meant. It was hard for her to explain it because I was so young but I do remember being satisfied by the definition. I also remember understanding it more and more as I reflected back in later years. I still remember the pan up to a yellow flag, flying the kingdom crest carried by a soldier over muddy terrain against a bleak sky. Think of the color scheme of The Lion King after Scar takes over (food supply depleated, prospects grim, etc. etc.) - it's the same impending-doom feel.
The Captain of the Guard could abuse the subjects because he was claiming the authority of the king.
"'You will not surely die,' the serpent said to the woman. 'For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.'"*
"Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor. 'All this I will give you,' he said, ' if you will bow down and worship me.'"**
What is in a name, I have always wanted to ask.
The first time I really grasped the power of just a name was the night I saw people's faces change when they heard "Jesus". You can talk about anything, with some people...but that name evokes something visceral or caustic.
I think the second time I grasped this was when I read the accounts in the Book of Acts where Jesus' followers were performing miracles by praying in His name. I mean, it's not like a special formula or a magic, voodoo thing. It's invoking all of His person. Like a snobby little kid claiming something that aint theirs, "My mom says I can have it. ... Je-sus said I could rebuke you." It's totally like a tag-team gig.
"I can't pray through my own name so I'll pray through yours." (I guess that's like using MY name in vain.)
I love that. I delude myself to think that I am allowed to talk to God. I make all these bones about how having an intermediary is stupid and unBiblical... how it's ludicrous to expect people to pray through a priest or whomever. But realistically, the best we can do is ask Jesus to pass the message on. Tacking on, "in Jesus' name, amen," as flippantly as you add sugar to your coffee, a smiley face to your email or pennies and nickels to the kids camp donation box at Tim Hortons is just dumb. It's just dumb. I think I should try starting my prayers that way, instead of finishing. My favorite used to be, "I ask/pray all this because Jesus said I could...Amen," but now that's too familiar. Here's to starting from scratch.
As morning dawns and evening fades
You inspire songs of praise
That rise from Earth to touch Your heart,
And glorify Your name..
Your name is a strong and mighty tower
Your name is a shelter like no other
Your name, let the nations sing it louder
'Cause nothing has the power to save, but Your name.
Jesus, in Your name we pray
Come and fill our hearts today
Lord, give us strength to live for You
And glorify Your name...
Your name is a strong and mighty tower
Your name is a shelter like no other
Your name, let the nations sing it louder
'Cause nothing has the power to save, but Your name.***
*Genesis 3:4-5
**Matthew 4:8-9
***Paul Baloche. "Your Name." A Greater Song. Hosanna! Music, 2006.
Tuesday, 30 October 2007
Monday, 29 October 2007
Series: Mosaic Tablets (6/10)
Number six: the supremacy of God [1]
Exodus 20:3 - "You shall have no other gods before me."
This was the second or third post I wanted to write ... it should have come out on Sunday but I kept putting it off because it was almost guaranteed to be four blocks long. By Monday I could have written the same post with different content and the same was tru for Tuesday and by that time I was too torn and overwhelmed.
Sunday's sermon was entitled "Submit and Resist," pulled from James 4:7 which says, "Submit yourselves therefore to God resist the devil and he will flee from you" (KJV). In my 5 x 7" notebook here, I've got six pages of notes about submitting and resisting but the final page, for the last, say five minutes of his sermon, the pastor totally switched gears. It didn't make sense to me (like the transition was not graceful) but after a few moments I realized the words were for me. I had been thinking about how it's important to be consistent with spending time with God. I can't write that so it doesn't sound stupid. The problem is that I don't know why "it's important to spend time with God." I don't get it. All I know is that life is better with it and crap without it. That's deductive reasoning. (I think.) Pastor Sam says, "Intimacy with God does not happen accidentally but by intentional cultivation." He then quoted James 4:8a: Come near to God and He will come near to you. I enjoyed the moment when the phrase "guard your heart" made sense to me. "Work on internal devotion to guard your heart," was what he said but even though it came on the heels of some dating-couples context, I understood it in the more general sense. I've only ever heard the phrase "guard your heart" from girls who have read books about dating or who are exceptionally conservative in their dating views. The phrase annoys me partly because it is assumed that the meaning is understood by Christians, especially girls and it annoys me because it's used (like many other cliche phrases) to talk about something that should be discussed explicitly. Stock phrases allow you to talk about important things at arm's length. It's a cop-out I don't really approve of. But this sermon helped me to see the phrase in the most connotation-free way possible.
Right near the end the pastor painted us an analogy to drive his point home. He said that in the '60s, automobiles had bench seats (as opposed to our present-day bucket seats) and so sweethearts in the front seat would sit as close to one another as possible. I can totally picture this cuz I've seen so many "high school" films set in the '40s, '50s, '60s that those grey/blue plastic-y dudes with the lines running down from the headrest that very likely squeaked when you lean over are quite familiar. The picture is endearing, I like it. But that's not what the pastor wanted us to understand. (It's a great foundation, though. He's a great pastor and orator.) This is my paraphrase: One couple had sat close together every time they went driving. After a few years, the woman started to notice that the two weren't sitting as close as they once had. The gap widened until finally the woman asked her man, "What has happened to us? Why are we so far apart?" He replies, "Don't look at me...! I'm the one driving. Who's moved?!" Pastor Sam let the punch-line sink in and the laughter pass before repeating that last question which definitely found its way to my own coeur, Who's moved? It's a great question and it's not like I have ever blamed God for anything that was wrong with me but hearing the situation so described was certainly thought-provoking and convicting.
On Monday I went to a Bible study and the man on the DVD told us that God doesn't want your stuff, He wants your heart. It be so tru. He's not concerned with your money or your possessions. He quoted Psalm 50, verse 12: "If I were hungry I would not tell you, for the world is mine, and all that is in it." He also quoted that bit in Corinthians about giving with a cheerful heart. He paraphrased, "If you can't give with your whole heart, not grudgingly, then keep your money." He asked, rather poignantly (don't worry: I looked it up - I can use it), "How can you give away your tithe without caring if real change takes place in the world?" MADE SENSE TO ME! [I really didn't like that moment where someone I know turned a question about tithing into an irritated rant about the government wasting her tax dollars. BOO!] I wish for this: "All the believers were together and had everything in common. Selling their possessions and goods, they gave to anyone as he had need" (Acts 3:44-5). Give yer money away like you don't need it. Give it away like it's someone else's. Give it away like it means more than the hours you worked to earn it. Give it because you know what it can mean to another.
I think I'm going to buy a wooden crate and stencil spraypaint "SOAP" on it.
Anyways, by Tuesday I jumped back into Psalm 50 in hopes of discovering why God went on for five verses (I say "went on" because He wasn't polite about it so it felt like longer...long like the talk in the principal's office that was actually 1m45s) about the things that He owned and the things He didn't need from us. "I have no need of a bull from your stall or of goats from your pens, for every animal of the forest is mine, and the cattle on a thousand hills. I know every bird in the mountains, and the creatures of the field are mine. If I were hungry I would not tell you, for the world is mine, and all that is in it. Do I eat the flesh of bulls or drink the blood of goats?" (v9-13). Boy does He EVER make all our sacrifices look like junk! Do you actually think I give a crap about your overcooked beef or seared goat?! He aint fixing to be mean. He even prefaced with, "I do not rebuke you for your sacrifices or your burnt offerings, which are ever before me" (8). He's gracious and He'll take the stuff dedicated on the altar. (...but it's not what He really wants.) From a brutishly human perspective, I could wonder what God is after when He's got EVERYthing at His fingertips and His disposal. He's got it made. (In this case, I could say that literally too. HA.. that is such an old-people joke.) But on the other hand, if He could create it He really didn't need it. I don't think He really enjoys His creation in the sense I'm thinking about. The point is that God is after our hearts because, with free will set firmly in place, our hearts are the only thing God can't simply take. I guess it's nice to be able to sit and let that sink in. I feel almost honored that He respects me enough to let me decide whether I want to withhold the only thing the Almighty really wants, out of all Existance. I feel very small, though, too. I feel the weight of immense peer pressure. It's like the title character's friends in Good Will Hunting who call him an idiot and worse for not going to college or otherwise using his gifted intellect. "Colleges don't give a shit about us but YOU they like. You they send scholarships after." (I'm totally fabricating that line.) They saw his refusal to go as a total waste and an insult to their LACK of gifting. All of Nature could yell at us, "What is wrong with you? Give it up already - He aint lookin at us!" Hm... now I'm thinking of the "the very rocks cry out" verse which is making mucho sense to me. One day I'll take the time to look that sucka up.
Exodus 20:3 - "You shall have no other gods before me."
This was the second or third post I wanted to write ... it should have come out on Sunday but I kept putting it off because it was almost guaranteed to be four blocks long. By Monday I could have written the same post with different content and the same was tru for Tuesday and by that time I was too torn and overwhelmed.
Sunday's sermon was entitled "Submit and Resist," pulled from James 4:7 which says, "Submit yourselves therefore to God resist the devil and he will flee from you" (KJV). In my 5 x 7" notebook here, I've got six pages of notes about submitting and resisting but the final page, for the last, say five minutes of his sermon, the pastor totally switched gears. It didn't make sense to me (like the transition was not graceful) but after a few moments I realized the words were for me. I had been thinking about how it's important to be consistent with spending time with God. I can't write that so it doesn't sound stupid. The problem is that I don't know why "it's important to spend time with God." I don't get it. All I know is that life is better with it and crap without it. That's deductive reasoning. (I think.) Pastor Sam says, "Intimacy with God does not happen accidentally but by intentional cultivation." He then quoted James 4:8a: Come near to God and He will come near to you. I enjoyed the moment when the phrase "guard your heart" made sense to me. "Work on internal devotion to guard your heart," was what he said but even though it came on the heels of some dating-couples context, I understood it in the more general sense. I've only ever heard the phrase "guard your heart" from girls who have read books about dating or who are exceptionally conservative in their dating views. The phrase annoys me partly because it is assumed that the meaning is understood by Christians, especially girls and it annoys me because it's used (like many other cliche phrases) to talk about something that should be discussed explicitly. Stock phrases allow you to talk about important things at arm's length. It's a cop-out I don't really approve of. But this sermon helped me to see the phrase in the most connotation-free way possible.
Right near the end the pastor painted us an analogy to drive his point home. He said that in the '60s, automobiles had bench seats (as opposed to our present-day bucket seats) and so sweethearts in the front seat would sit as close to one another as possible. I can totally picture this cuz I've seen so many "high school" films set in the '40s, '50s, '60s that those grey/blue plastic-y dudes with the lines running down from the headrest that very likely squeaked when you lean over are quite familiar. The picture is endearing, I like it. But that's not what the pastor wanted us to understand. (It's a great foundation, though. He's a great pastor and orator.) This is my paraphrase: One couple had sat close together every time they went driving. After a few years, the woman started to notice that the two weren't sitting as close as they once had. The gap widened until finally the woman asked her man, "What has happened to us? Why are we so far apart?" He replies, "Don't look at me...! I'm the one driving. Who's moved?!" Pastor Sam let the punch-line sink in and the laughter pass before repeating that last question which definitely found its way to my own coeur, Who's moved? It's a great question and it's not like I have ever blamed God for anything that was wrong with me but hearing the situation so described was certainly thought-provoking and convicting.
On Monday I went to a Bible study and the man on the DVD told us that God doesn't want your stuff, He wants your heart. It be so tru. He's not concerned with your money or your possessions. He quoted Psalm 50, verse 12: "If I were hungry I would not tell you, for the world is mine, and all that is in it." He also quoted that bit in Corinthians about giving with a cheerful heart. He paraphrased, "If you can't give with your whole heart, not grudgingly, then keep your money." He asked, rather poignantly (don't worry: I looked it up - I can use it), "How can you give away your tithe without caring if real change takes place in the world?" MADE SENSE TO ME! [I really didn't like that moment where someone I know turned a question about tithing into an irritated rant about the government wasting her tax dollars. BOO!] I wish for this: "All the believers were together and had everything in common. Selling their possessions and goods, they gave to anyone as he had need" (Acts 3:44-5). Give yer money away like you don't need it. Give it away like it's someone else's. Give it away like it means more than the hours you worked to earn it. Give it because you know what it can mean to another.
I think I'm going to buy a wooden crate and stencil spraypaint "SOAP" on it.
Anyways, by Tuesday I jumped back into Psalm 50 in hopes of discovering why God went on for five verses (I say "went on" because He wasn't polite about it so it felt like longer...long like the talk in the principal's office that was actually 1m45s) about the things that He owned and the things He didn't need from us. "I have no need of a bull from your stall or of goats from your pens, for every animal of the forest is mine, and the cattle on a thousand hills. I know every bird in the mountains, and the creatures of the field are mine. If I were hungry I would not tell you, for the world is mine, and all that is in it. Do I eat the flesh of bulls or drink the blood of goats?" (v9-13). Boy does He EVER make all our sacrifices look like junk! Do you actually think I give a crap about your overcooked beef or seared goat?! He aint fixing to be mean. He even prefaced with, "I do not rebuke you for your sacrifices or your burnt offerings, which are ever before me" (8). He's gracious and He'll take the stuff dedicated on the altar. (...but it's not what He really wants.) From a brutishly human perspective, I could wonder what God is after when He's got EVERYthing at His fingertips and His disposal. He's got it made. (In this case, I could say that literally too. HA.. that is such an old-people joke.) But on the other hand, if He could create it He really didn't need it. I don't think He really enjoys His creation in the sense I'm thinking about. The point is that God is after our hearts because, with free will set firmly in place, our hearts are the only thing God can't simply take. I guess it's nice to be able to sit and let that sink in. I feel almost honored that He respects me enough to let me decide whether I want to withhold the only thing the Almighty really wants, out of all Existance. I feel very small, though, too. I feel the weight of immense peer pressure. It's like the title character's friends in Good Will Hunting who call him an idiot and worse for not going to college or otherwise using his gifted intellect. "Colleges don't give a shit about us but YOU they like. You they send scholarships after." (I'm totally fabricating that line.) They saw his refusal to go as a total waste and an insult to their LACK of gifting. All of Nature could yell at us, "What is wrong with you? Give it up already - He aint lookin at us!" Hm... now I'm thinking of the "the very rocks cry out" verse which is making mucho sense to me. One day I'll take the time to look that sucka up.
I hereby officially dedicate this post to my Bowel Movements.
Friday, 26 October 2007
Series: Mosaic Tablets (5/10)
Number five: fibbing [9]
Exodus 20:16 - "You shall not give false testimony against your neighbor."
My favorite line of the day: "Aw, Jesskah [intonation peaking on the KAH syllable], I feel like your life's all coming together," sounding genuine and excited in a gentle way. It was a comment so profound - profound because I don't think the speaker had adequate information - that it boggled my mind. It's rather fortunate that she got distracted by the urgent need to hug someone right then because I would have otherwise perpetuated that topic of conversation which is NOT healthy for the ego. Alas, I must say this gives me hope. L'esperance.
Having other people "believe in me", for lack of a less cheesy phrase, feels good sometimes. I look at my life and my "future" and my degree requirements and I can't help but have my decisions or thoughts partially influenced by the potential answers I will have to give in predictable conversation. So what are you doing these days? Bah... I don't need it. But I know those questions will come. And I hate squirming, I do. I would like to be able to outright state what is what and have no apologies nor excuses. I'm not THRILLED with "where my life is now" and I'm trying to reconcile not caring what the world thinks with caring very much with what God thinks. I don't wanna be worried but I don't wanna simply say, "God will take care of me." God WILL take care of me; I'll never deny that but I don't want to use that as a cop-out, nay.
I talked to my moms today, I asked her what she thought about me cheaping out and coming back to upgrade. Throughout the whole conversation (a series of electronic messages), she was very textbook parent-y in that she wasn't necessarily encouraging or discouraging - perhaps not an optomist nor pessimist but a realist. She kept it real. No pats on the back for things you haven't done yet but props for exploring your options. Parents (and people in authority) like to know what you're thinking...or sometimes just THAT you're thinking. I expect to be able to work over in the corner and THEN approach them with a finished product. Sure it works but that doesn't mean they won't be annoyed with you the whole time. (I'm not settled on this issue so I'll stop there.)
The first thing she said effectively meant, "it's not a total loss," and that's true. I really do have a tough time letting go of things after they have left the realm of "reasonably attained" because as long as there is one shred of plausibilitiy left, I will exploit it. I exploit it expecting it to become more than a shred. Ahh...had I seriously considered this option before? No, not really. I am excited that my life could find itself in an exciting place, with no strings attached. The attached strings, they're like nagging thoughts or a telltale heart that crop up at the least opportune moment to sour a perfectly good one. I need to be free of these because, realistically, I approve of their tempering tactics. I approve of taking a bite out of the good with the bad (..until all the bad is gone). It's temperance. I approve. But I need some liberty now. I need to just know that something good can be fully good.
This is something to consider and I'd be lying if I didn't say I loved "something to consider"s.
I feel an internal click when I know an argument or heated debate is about to transpire. I really do like that click for what it is. Sometimes arguments are not pleasant, especially when your counterpart fights dirty or when the subject matter is too personal but generally it's OK. The things I like about arguments:
when I know I can win/will win/have won
when I know the other person will win or has won
the moment I see whose favor the argument will swing in
the moment I realize the argument will go nowhere
re-grasping the point, the thesis
the spawning of a new argument
I like it all, I really do.
1. an oral disagreement; verbal opposition; contention; altercation
2. a discussion involving different points of view; debate *
I like being inside of it and I like being able to find myself OUTside of it, to be sure that there's a purpose to the whole thing.
I had an argument with two friends today. (Is there ever a three-sided argument? Can you ever have three distinct possibilities or opinions on..one subject?) It was two-on-one against me. I didn't really like that we couldn't pinpoint what the actual argument was over and it didn't help that theirs evolved (in the sort of gene-mutation, new species kind of way) as we spoke. I think I was trying to make two points at once, maybe three, and it has been my experience that if you don't know what you're getting at you should really stop talking because you'll end up spewing BS and very likely be called on it. I kept trying to establish what the exact point of contention was but we couldn't. THAT's frustrating. Being passionate about something enough to grab your head in frustration or flail your arms or raise your voice in a public place? - THAT I am down with. I don't flail and scream to make an argument more fun... I argue to assert myself on something I feel strongly about.
I'm not gonna lie - I've been well conditioned - I do like resolutions but I'll live without one for now.
*http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/argument
Exodus 20:16 - "You shall not give false testimony against your neighbor."
My favorite line of the day: "Aw, Jesskah [intonation peaking on the KAH syllable], I feel like your life's all coming together," sounding genuine and excited in a gentle way. It was a comment so profound - profound because I don't think the speaker had adequate information - that it boggled my mind. It's rather fortunate that she got distracted by the urgent need to hug someone right then because I would have otherwise perpetuated that topic of conversation which is NOT healthy for the ego. Alas, I must say this gives me hope. L'esperance.
Having other people "believe in me", for lack of a less cheesy phrase, feels good sometimes. I look at my life and my "future" and my degree requirements and I can't help but have my decisions or thoughts partially influenced by the potential answers I will have to give in predictable conversation. So what are you doing these days? Bah... I don't need it. But I know those questions will come. And I hate squirming, I do. I would like to be able to outright state what is what and have no apologies nor excuses. I'm not THRILLED with "where my life is now" and I'm trying to reconcile not caring what the world thinks with caring very much with what God thinks. I don't wanna be worried but I don't wanna simply say, "God will take care of me." God WILL take care of me; I'll never deny that but I don't want to use that as a cop-out, nay.
I talked to my moms today, I asked her what she thought about me cheaping out and coming back to upgrade. Throughout the whole conversation (a series of electronic messages), she was very textbook parent-y in that she wasn't necessarily encouraging or discouraging - perhaps not an optomist nor pessimist but a realist. She kept it real. No pats on the back for things you haven't done yet but props for exploring your options. Parents (and people in authority) like to know what you're thinking...or sometimes just THAT you're thinking. I expect to be able to work over in the corner and THEN approach them with a finished product. Sure it works but that doesn't mean they won't be annoyed with you the whole time. (I'm not settled on this issue so I'll stop there.)
The first thing she said effectively meant, "it's not a total loss," and that's true. I really do have a tough time letting go of things after they have left the realm of "reasonably attained" because as long as there is one shred of plausibilitiy left, I will exploit it. I exploit it expecting it to become more than a shred. Ahh...had I seriously considered this option before? No, not really. I am excited that my life could find itself in an exciting place, with no strings attached. The attached strings, they're like nagging thoughts or a telltale heart that crop up at the least opportune moment to sour a perfectly good one. I need to be free of these because, realistically, I approve of their tempering tactics. I approve of taking a bite out of the good with the bad (..until all the bad is gone). It's temperance. I approve. But I need some liberty now. I need to just know that something good can be fully good.
This is something to consider and I'd be lying if I didn't say I loved "something to consider"s.
I feel an internal click when I know an argument or heated debate is about to transpire. I really do like that click for what it is. Sometimes arguments are not pleasant, especially when your counterpart fights dirty or when the subject matter is too personal but generally it's OK. The things I like about arguments:
when I know I can win/will win/have won
when I know the other person will win or has won
the moment I see whose favor the argument will swing in
the moment I realize the argument will go nowhere
re-grasping the point, the thesis
the spawning of a new argument
I like it all, I really do.
1. an oral disagreement; verbal opposition; contention; altercation
2. a discussion involving different points of view; debate *
I like being inside of it and I like being able to find myself OUTside of it, to be sure that there's a purpose to the whole thing.
I had an argument with two friends today. (Is there ever a three-sided argument? Can you ever have three distinct possibilities or opinions on..one subject?) It was two-on-one against me. I didn't really like that we couldn't pinpoint what the actual argument was over and it didn't help that theirs evolved (in the sort of gene-mutation, new species kind of way) as we spoke. I think I was trying to make two points at once, maybe three, and it has been my experience that if you don't know what you're getting at you should really stop talking because you'll end up spewing BS and very likely be called on it. I kept trying to establish what the exact point of contention was but we couldn't. THAT's frustrating. Being passionate about something enough to grab your head in frustration or flail your arms or raise your voice in a public place? - THAT I am down with. I don't flail and scream to make an argument more fun... I argue to assert myself on something I feel strongly about.
I'm not gonna lie - I've been well conditioned - I do like resolutions but I'll live without one for now.
*http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/argument
Thursday, 25 October 2007
Series: Mosaic Tablets (4/10)
Number Four: theft [8]
Exodus 20:15 - "You shall not steal."
I was wondering how I'd approach this one and the honor your parents one. I imagine I'll wait until next weekend when I see my mother and that one will prolly take care of itself. I know "adultery" is going to be a post about lust cuz I am not really in a position to commit the literal or the OT version of adultery. The rest shouldn't be too hard to find. I look forward to seeing how the "Sabbath Day" post comes out.
Every artist that I witnessed at the Bullring's Open Mic night stole something - they stole some other musician's work - but I'm OK with it. I'm not sure any copyright laws are broken if you're not making a profit...
Oh what a magical evening. I went to the Bullring to eat and ended up with such a pleasant surprize for 2 or 3 hours. Four men and one woman played their guitars and all but one of them sang. All but one of them were EXCELLENT. This one guy, who came out of nowhere, was mind-boggling. I stole from him...I made a few recordings of his stuff that I have yet to check the quality of. He was clearly a veteran of the instrument and barely looked up while he worked amazing things into the air. He played with that little cool device that allows you to record something and play it back looped*. He sometimes used three or four layers and soloed on top. Amazing.
The girl surprized me because I had a class with her last semester and THOUGHT I had her figured out. Score one point against pre-judging.
I forgot and re-rememered today that the challenge of this series made no stipulations about the content of the posts so I am officially off the hook.
*Here's a great example of said technology: http://youtube.com/watch?v=pSIbfzK2spg
Exodus 20:15 - "You shall not steal."
I was wondering how I'd approach this one and the honor your parents one. I imagine I'll wait until next weekend when I see my mother and that one will prolly take care of itself. I know "adultery" is going to be a post about lust cuz I am not really in a position to commit the literal or the OT version of adultery. The rest shouldn't be too hard to find. I look forward to seeing how the "Sabbath Day" post comes out.
Every artist that I witnessed at the Bullring's Open Mic night stole something - they stole some other musician's work - but I'm OK with it. I'm not sure any copyright laws are broken if you're not making a profit...
Oh what a magical evening. I went to the Bullring to eat and ended up with such a pleasant surprize for 2 or 3 hours. Four men and one woman played their guitars and all but one of them sang. All but one of them were EXCELLENT. This one guy, who came out of nowhere, was mind-boggling. I stole from him...I made a few recordings of his stuff that I have yet to check the quality of. He was clearly a veteran of the instrument and barely looked up while he worked amazing things into the air. He played with that little cool device that allows you to record something and play it back looped*. He sometimes used three or four layers and soloed on top. Amazing.
The girl surprized me because I had a class with her last semester and THOUGHT I had her figured out. Score one point against pre-judging.
I forgot and re-rememered today that the challenge of this series made no stipulations about the content of the posts so I am officially off the hook.
*Here's a great example of said technology: http://youtube.com/watch?v=pSIbfzK2spg
Tuesday, 23 October 2007
Series: Mosaic Tablets (3/10)
Number three: envy [10]
Exodus 20:17 - "You shall not covet your neighbor's house. You shall not covet your neighbor's wife, or his manservant or maidservant, his ox or donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbor."
If envy was acceptable, this is the list I would make:
Older sister: Without really knowing how to put it into words, I'd have to say that I envy how she has experienced parts of the world. She has seen things and been to places that I just probably won't ever see or go to. She's also done stuff that I would have liked to do. It's a very trecharous balance, wanting what I know is not good for me because it feels good. It's a weird temptation and it scares me as much as it pleases me. Jim Carroll's "Basketball Diaries" does the same for me but Jim Carroll is not my older sister.
Younger brother: I think I'd have to say I'm envious of his friends. I'm envious that he was famous within his high school, that people he doesn't know would come up to him and say, "Hey you're that hot-dog guy!" or something like that (because of a prank he'd pulled with hot-dogs). I envy his friends because they have so so so much fun together. They get each other, they fit into each other's worlds well and they enjoy themselves. It's cool.
http://www.bushmanandsnowflake.cjb.net/ (their website)
http://youtube.com/watch?v=f3QRqf6RH5A (video feat. my bro-dude)
http://youtube.com/watch?v=sy9XMqs_h6Y (video feat. his best friend)
http://youtube.com/watch?v=tw9uF0Bh_n8 (video feat. both nutjobs)
[links 1, 2 and 3 contain coarse language. viewer discretion is advised.]
Younger brother #2: I'm envious of his athletic abilities. Nevermind being able to take to any one sport at the drop of a hat but spending 5 days out of 7 in American states with the Ontario Blue Jays, being scouted by the majors, and throwing 89mph.... it's ridiculous.
Younger brother #3: He's too weird. He's weirder than I can really comprehend and his influences are unbeknownst to me. I also love that he's so quick-witted. He's got to be the fastest in the family and it adds to the effect when he literally speaks quickly.
His mom: Actually, J____, you really need to start saving cuz you've been working for three months and you don't have a penny to your name.
Brother #3: No, I have eighteen hundred...(pause)...pennies to my name. ...I have eighteen dollars.
Younger Sister: I am envious of her beauty. I didn't think I would end up listing something so shallow but heck - let's just be honest. Honesty is a good thing. She fits in perfectly with the definition of conventional beauty. Fortunately (fortunately for her own sake and for my peace of mind), she doesn't exploit her beauty to the fullest extent. She might get into that eventually but I doubt that simply because I think she already gets more attention than she's perfectly comfortable with. She is probably the most popular girl in school and she loves it. She makes girls jealous and makes boys ...ridiculous. I'm not particularly interested in that stuff I'm just amazed at how naturally beautiful she is, and how she fits the mold. It's crayzee.
Younger Brother #4: I admire his raw artistic ability. He is adept at drawing what he sees and that is amazing for a seven-year-old. I ...oops..envy not admire... I envy his sponge-like ability to learn. He is quiet when he's paying attention to what adults are saying, knowing that we will assume he's not listening so we're free to talk about something relating to him. I'm envious of his recklessness, that he'll just try anything but that's typical of most young kids. Really, what strikes me most about him is how competent he is and I know it's mostly natural ability because he has had the same parental and grandparental influences as this three older siblings yet he stands out in this way.
Younger Sister #2: I envy her incorrigable cuteness. It's not something I could reasonably have as an adult because then I would just look ridiculous and annoy the crap out of people. But I must envy her care-free nature (which, again, is a given for young children). I love that she's smiling most of the time, that she's resilient, that she's forgiving and that she's reasonably patient. She enjoys quiet moments but can deal with chaotic loud ones, too. These are mostly admiring comments... I find it hard to envy her before she's really...a real person.
Mother: I envy her work attitude. It's practically impeccable. She works for what she wants and attains it. She knows what she needs and what she wants and is very responsible in terms of how she accumulates goods or services.
Father: I envy his patois. I like the way it sounds and I like that he's... effectively bilingual. (I'm going to make that leap.) I also envy his endurance. He rarely sleeps more than five hours per night and rarely eats a full meal and rarely works fewer than 10 hours a day, usually including weekends. Yes, there are drawbacks to that lifestyle, of course, of course. But I do admire how he can just go go go go go. He's the kind of being that helps me to understand how people endured slavery. Like you look at what was done and just can't imagine how a human body and a human mind would withstand it all ..but people were different then. With different parents, different influences, different conditioning and no choice, it was totally possible.
Exodus 20:17 - "You shall not covet your neighbor's house. You shall not covet your neighbor's wife, or his manservant or maidservant, his ox or donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbor."
If envy was acceptable, this is the list I would make:
Older sister: Without really knowing how to put it into words, I'd have to say that I envy how she has experienced parts of the world. She has seen things and been to places that I just probably won't ever see or go to. She's also done stuff that I would have liked to do. It's a very trecharous balance, wanting what I know is not good for me because it feels good. It's a weird temptation and it scares me as much as it pleases me. Jim Carroll's "Basketball Diaries" does the same for me but Jim Carroll is not my older sister.
Younger brother: I think I'd have to say I'm envious of his friends. I'm envious that he was famous within his high school, that people he doesn't know would come up to him and say, "Hey you're that hot-dog guy!" or something like that (because of a prank he'd pulled with hot-dogs). I envy his friends because they have so so so much fun together. They get each other, they fit into each other's worlds well and they enjoy themselves. It's cool.
http://www.bushmanandsnowflake.cjb.net/ (their website)
http://youtube.com/watch?v=f3QRqf6RH5A (video feat. my bro-dude)
http://youtube.com/watch?v=sy9XMqs_h6Y (video feat. his best friend)
http://youtube.com/watch?v=tw9uF0Bh_n8 (video feat. both nutjobs)
[links 1, 2 and 3 contain coarse language. viewer discretion is advised.]
Younger brother #2: I'm envious of his athletic abilities. Nevermind being able to take to any one sport at the drop of a hat but spending 5 days out of 7 in American states with the Ontario Blue Jays, being scouted by the majors, and throwing 89mph.... it's ridiculous.
Younger brother #3: He's too weird. He's weirder than I can really comprehend and his influences are unbeknownst to me. I also love that he's so quick-witted. He's got to be the fastest in the family and it adds to the effect when he literally speaks quickly.
His mom: Actually, J____, you really need to start saving cuz you've been working for three months and you don't have a penny to your name.
Brother #3: No, I have eighteen hundred...(pause)...pennies to my name. ...I have eighteen dollars.
Younger Sister: I am envious of her beauty. I didn't think I would end up listing something so shallow but heck - let's just be honest. Honesty is a good thing. She fits in perfectly with the definition of conventional beauty. Fortunately (fortunately for her own sake and for my peace of mind), she doesn't exploit her beauty to the fullest extent. She might get into that eventually but I doubt that simply because I think she already gets more attention than she's perfectly comfortable with. She is probably the most popular girl in school and she loves it. She makes girls jealous and makes boys ...ridiculous. I'm not particularly interested in that stuff I'm just amazed at how naturally beautiful she is, and how she fits the mold. It's crayzee.
Younger Brother #4: I admire his raw artistic ability. He is adept at drawing what he sees and that is amazing for a seven-year-old. I ...oops..envy not admire... I envy his sponge-like ability to learn. He is quiet when he's paying attention to what adults are saying, knowing that we will assume he's not listening so we're free to talk about something relating to him. I'm envious of his recklessness, that he'll just try anything but that's typical of most young kids. Really, what strikes me most about him is how competent he is and I know it's mostly natural ability because he has had the same parental and grandparental influences as this three older siblings yet he stands out in this way.
Younger Sister #2: I envy her incorrigable cuteness. It's not something I could reasonably have as an adult because then I would just look ridiculous and annoy the crap out of people. But I must envy her care-free nature (which, again, is a given for young children). I love that she's smiling most of the time, that she's resilient, that she's forgiving and that she's reasonably patient. She enjoys quiet moments but can deal with chaotic loud ones, too. These are mostly admiring comments... I find it hard to envy her before she's really...a real person.
Mother: I envy her work attitude. It's practically impeccable. She works for what she wants and attains it. She knows what she needs and what she wants and is very responsible in terms of how she accumulates goods or services.
Father: I envy his patois. I like the way it sounds and I like that he's... effectively bilingual. (I'm going to make that leap.) I also envy his endurance. He rarely sleeps more than five hours per night and rarely eats a full meal and rarely works fewer than 10 hours a day, usually including weekends. Yes, there are drawbacks to that lifestyle, of course, of course. But I do admire how he can just go go go go go. He's the kind of being that helps me to understand how people endured slavery. Like you look at what was done and just can't imagine how a human body and a human mind would withstand it all ..but people were different then. With different parents, different influences, different conditioning and no choice, it was totally possible.
Monday, 22 October 2007
best line from a camper EVER?
sung to the tune of Happy Birthday, but the second part, like when you sing, "How old are you now?" (on my birthday, 2006) :
"Who's your boyfriend, ferr-nee?"
I exclaim, unbelieving, "Fer-nee? Who is Fernee? Like the plant?"
She's started laughing already. "Yea!"
"Who's your boyfriend, ferr-nee?"
I exclaim, unbelieving, "Fer-nee? Who is Fernee? Like the plant?"
She's started laughing already. "Yea!"
Sunday, 21 October 2007
Series: Mosaic Tablets (2/10)
Number Two: idolatry [2]
Exodus 20:4 - "You shall not make for yourself an idol in the form of anything in heaven above or on the earth beneath or in the waters below."
I try not to say it often, but today I really hate the kind of person I am.
I know what my idols are. I guess they're here on earth and not in the air or the sea..and I can't say that I made them, the same way the Israelites made the golden calf. I can, of course, fully admit that I made them idols. There's two that I can think of and I'm sure the third could be myself but that doesn't make sense to me.
I took the time to think about it today because I knew I had something bloggy to say but that I had to keep within the recently-delivered rules.
I don't....... hmm. Stream of conscious writing is very important to me and.... so..... I think this post is just about over because I have nothing more to say.
I can't say I've learned much (much that is profound) today and I can't say I've dealt with the idols. In this space of two hours that I have been home after a day away, I can say that I have resisted temptation well. Beyond that... I don't know. God.... deserves much and receives little. I'm just not soberly seeing how idols hinder and blurr and distract -- and how that means you can't have all of God. He is a jealous God --dude... THAT just made sense to me. "Jealous" has always been a tricky term for me in this context but it's all coming together.
He is a jealous God and just...just doesn't stand other things being considered anywhere near close to being on-par with Him. goose egg.... Hmmm. So I just need to see it. I just need to clearly see what absolute allegiance is like. Cast off all the crap that hinders and entangles my everything...
Maybe I could add to that, now that I've taken the time to locate the verse I was thinking of. "Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith..." Now there's a verse I would love to dissect on a platter and serve at a party. That could be another series.
Exodus 20:4 - "You shall not make for yourself an idol in the form of anything in heaven above or on the earth beneath or in the waters below."
I try not to say it often, but today I really hate the kind of person I am.
I know what my idols are. I guess they're here on earth and not in the air or the sea..and I can't say that I made them, the same way the Israelites made the golden calf. I can, of course, fully admit that I made them idols. There's two that I can think of and I'm sure the third could be myself but that doesn't make sense to me.
I took the time to think about it today because I knew I had something bloggy to say but that I had to keep within the recently-delivered rules.
I don't....... hmm. Stream of conscious writing is very important to me and.... so..... I think this post is just about over because I have nothing more to say.
I can't say I've learned much (much that is profound) today and I can't say I've dealt with the idols. In this space of two hours that I have been home after a day away, I can say that I have resisted temptation well. Beyond that... I don't know. God.... deserves much and receives little. I'm just not soberly seeing how idols hinder and blurr and distract -- and how that means you can't have all of God. He is a jealous God --dude... THAT just made sense to me. "Jealous" has always been a tricky term for me in this context but it's all coming together.
He is a jealous God and just...just doesn't stand other things being considered anywhere near close to being on-par with Him. goose egg.... Hmmm. So I just need to see it. I just need to clearly see what absolute allegiance is like. Cast off all the crap that hinders and entangles my everything...
Maybe I could add to that, now that I've taken the time to locate the verse I was thinking of. "Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith..." Now there's a verse I would love to dissect on a platter and serve at a party. That could be another series.
Saturday, 20 October 2007
Series: Mosaic Tablets
Number One: murder [6]
--Editor's note: I want to challenge myself. I want to make the next ten blog entries parts of this series. I'm not going to force any thing and I will put other posts on hold until this challenge has been met but I am kinda nervous. It's hard for me to not write what I want to write. It's like..... it's like something. It's like not speaking up when your rights are being trampled. Something like that. It'll be interesting to see how I view my days based on how they mights relate to these commands.
Exodus 20:13 - "You shall not murder."
In an episode of CSI: Miami I recently watched, a young man was being questioned about the lead fragments found lodged in the side of his shoe. From the crime scene, investigators found that someone had discharged a gun straight into the floor which inculpates boy for the bullet fragments he walked away with. After the interrogators did their typical breaking down of the suspect he began to tell his story. The victim was trying to convince the shooter that he didn't have the guts to pull the trigger. He belittled and verbally degraded the young man, almost sneeringly; rising and walking towards him like a goalie confronting a break-away to cut down the angle. The boy protested a little and the man continued on, increasing in meanness, sounding more and more like a schoolyard bully or an unpleasant older brother and the gunman snapped (raised the gun and fired twice in the chest).
I saw the way the older man was talking, I understood what he was trying to do and more important, I understood what the shooter was experiencing. I certainly didn't try to put my self in either man's shoes, I hardly ever do that without being prompted. But the rude man hit a certain line and I was like, "OK, now is when you're supposed to shoot him." I may well have lifted my own arm as I was watching TV. I could see how the rage would blind you and the emotions would guide you so that you just want to do something to powerfully hurt the other person. You know what they're doing and how they're manipulating you and there just doesn't seem to be a way you can make them stop. The squeeze on the trigger, in my understanding of that tableau, would provide the exact same SNAP-BANG that comes from breaking something brittle (audible?) in half or smashing a glass or china plate or maybe slamming a fist onto a table... it's all the same. Does my anger scare you? Sometimes it concerns me and I don't know what else to say about that. No one's ever called me on it, perhaps because they're afraid of me or of how I will react. Either way, I finally really understood what Christ meant when He said, "You have heard that it was said to the people long ago, 'Do not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment.' But I tell you that anyone who is angry with his brother will be subject to judgment." (Matthew 5:21-2a)
I wish I could remember who it was that told me the only difference between murder and anger is the law. It just draws a line in the sand and makes the two acts separate. I wish I could remember the thesis of their argument cuz it would help establish that point but nonetheless I see the truth of it.
I don't want to murder anyone and I never will (assuming that I don't develop a mental illness later in life). But, I can understand how I might make the mistake of reacting to anger by doing something drastic and fatal. Moral of the story? Keep a tight rein on your everything. Oh, and Jesus knows what He's talking about.
--Editor's note: I want to challenge myself. I want to make the next ten blog entries parts of this series. I'm not going to force any thing and I will put other posts on hold until this challenge has been met but I am kinda nervous. It's hard for me to not write what I want to write. It's like..... it's like something. It's like not speaking up when your rights are being trampled. Something like that. It'll be interesting to see how I view my days based on how they mights relate to these commands.
Exodus 20:13 - "You shall not murder."
In an episode of CSI: Miami I recently watched, a young man was being questioned about the lead fragments found lodged in the side of his shoe. From the crime scene, investigators found that someone had discharged a gun straight into the floor which inculpates boy for the bullet fragments he walked away with. After the interrogators did their typical breaking down of the suspect he began to tell his story. The victim was trying to convince the shooter that he didn't have the guts to pull the trigger. He belittled and verbally degraded the young man, almost sneeringly; rising and walking towards him like a goalie confronting a break-away to cut down the angle. The boy protested a little and the man continued on, increasing in meanness, sounding more and more like a schoolyard bully or an unpleasant older brother and the gunman snapped (raised the gun and fired twice in the chest).
I saw the way the older man was talking, I understood what he was trying to do and more important, I understood what the shooter was experiencing. I certainly didn't try to put my self in either man's shoes, I hardly ever do that without being prompted. But the rude man hit a certain line and I was like, "OK, now is when you're supposed to shoot him." I may well have lifted my own arm as I was watching TV. I could see how the rage would blind you and the emotions would guide you so that you just want to do something to powerfully hurt the other person. You know what they're doing and how they're manipulating you and there just doesn't seem to be a way you can make them stop. The squeeze on the trigger, in my understanding of that tableau, would provide the exact same SNAP-BANG that comes from breaking something brittle (audible?) in half or smashing a glass or china plate or maybe slamming a fist onto a table... it's all the same. Does my anger scare you? Sometimes it concerns me and I don't know what else to say about that. No one's ever called me on it, perhaps because they're afraid of me or of how I will react. Either way, I finally really understood what Christ meant when He said, "You have heard that it was said to the people long ago, 'Do not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment.' But I tell you that anyone who is angry with his brother will be subject to judgment." (Matthew 5:21-2a)
I wish I could remember who it was that told me the only difference between murder and anger is the law. It just draws a line in the sand and makes the two acts separate. I wish I could remember the thesis of their argument cuz it would help establish that point but nonetheless I see the truth of it.
I don't want to murder anyone and I never will (assuming that I don't develop a mental illness later in life). But, I can understand how I might make the mistake of reacting to anger by doing something drastic and fatal. Moral of the story? Keep a tight rein on your everything. Oh, and Jesus knows what He's talking about.
Friday, 19 October 2007
Thursday, 18 October 2007
pop quiz:
that food was so spicy that:
a) it gave me the hiccups,
b) it made my nose run,
c) it prevailed over three pieces of bread and 2 cups of orange juice,
d) my tongue felt like it was bleeding when I finished, or
e) all of the above.
how about f) you're a gimp...
a) it gave me the hiccups,
b) it made my nose run,
c) it prevailed over three pieces of bread and 2 cups of orange juice,
d) my tongue felt like it was bleeding when I finished, or
e) all of the above.
how about f) you're a gimp...
OH, my godness,
and Matthew McConaughey. (This must be why I was under the impression that these two were both such good actors...finding myself subsequently disappointed. Meeeehhh.. I need to do some research.)
Sammy J's best acting role ever,
hands down, is Carl Lee Hailey in A Time to Kill (1996). No question.
Wednesday, 17 October 2007
I miss tension....
I (kinda) long for the days when I fought with people. I don't wanna be a..... a violent person or a poop-disturber of sorts, not really.
I think I'm just looking for some good old-fashioned primal confrontation. (Not too primal..just gutsy.) It's not necessarily that I want to go through something painful - though I don't think this would be painful since the reason it's so confrontational is that we've forsaken tact and politeness and concern about people's feelings - it's just that I want to go through something _____. Something something. I'm weird.
I was recollecting a Sunday afternoon moment, when, standing with a group of about six people about to part ways, a friend of mine was about to share something I had said the day before. Because I "knew" [you never really KNOW, do you?] - because I knew what she was going to say, I overlapped toward the person she was more specifically addressing, "She's gonna exaggerate this, just so you know," and I caught the weirdest look for it. It wasn't so much weird as it was unique, in terms of all the facial expressions I've ever seen this person pull in the four years I've known her. But I could guess. It was something like mild shock and preparation to be offended. I don't remember all of what she said but it definitely started with "Well..." She tried to protest but.. I think she was mostly deflated that I had ruined the effect of the story.. pretty much. (I can't say I don't approve of this outcome.)
My goal was to temper her effects, really. I mean when people tell certain stories a certain way - and the person they're talking about reacts a certain way, everyone believes the teller and laughs at the subject. (I hate this.. and it happens too often. I feel like I'm being pummeled in the corner. Maybe that makes me a weak person. Maybe I'm hypersensitive. Still...I make no apologies.) This friend has done this to me MANY, MANY times cuz it's part of her personality. She does it to other people, I've seen, but I'm guessing they deal with it better than I do. I try to correct people... I try to say, This is what actually happened. Or if I'm lucky, I drop a direct quote. Sometimes it's a matter of reason... "Well how could THAT have happened if THIS is clearly true?" Meh... I'm annoyed.
The moral of the story is, I'm glad I got to do that because... I think I'll do it more.
Today.... today, two of my friends were talking about a get-together that we (plus another out-of-townie person) are trying to plan for the near future. The role of information hub has fallen to me which, essentially I don't mind because I talk to the other three quite regularly and I know how to do the relay thing. But in this particular case it has been very frustrating because I end up being viewed as a mouthpiece or a representative or a secretary for the person whose information I'm sharing and I get asked questions that I simply cannot answer. Don't shoot the messenger... Don't interrogate the messenger. Man, screw the messenger, just go talk to the person.
I had said something like, "Man, we suck at communication," or, "We should just all talk at the same time. That might help," in an unforgiving tone. I was not amused. I walk to another room. Friend 1 arrives and Friend 2 starts asking questions to help get our communal information up-to-date. (This is good, sure.) They talk, and I'm doing stuff, whatever, listening, but not looking at them... Then they stop. "Jess...?" I say, "Yea?" without looking up. No answer. So I look. Their expressions don't change, NEIther of them. So I don't know how to react. I keep looking because I expect people who call my name to have something to say, ask, show, give etc. to me. "What," without an upward tone comes out to cut the silence, slightly. I'm still not smiling and don't intend to. Finally I explain: "There was no question..what am I supposed to answer?" They look at each other awkwardly and fumble over some words. "Oh. I guess uh...yea that'll work." Or something. There wasn't much substance cuz they were only trying to talk to cover their awkwardness. I don't.... care. (Can I say that? I hope I read this post tomorrow and can call myself a boorish dolt.) I can't stand people calling my name for no reason -- not just that but expecting me to know what they're about when it's not obvious. If I even had a slight idea, I'd try, I promise. Don't make me guess and just stare me in the face in the mean time. You think I'm playing with you but the truth is I'm just ignorant. Friend 1 does this to me all the time. It pisses me off. Mmmm
Well I need to go talk to God now, and throw around some apologies. Mm-hmm.
I think I'm just looking for some good old-fashioned primal confrontation. (Not too primal..just gutsy.) It's not necessarily that I want to go through something painful - though I don't think this would be painful since the reason it's so confrontational is that we've forsaken tact and politeness and concern about people's feelings - it's just that I want to go through something _____. Something something. I'm weird.
I was recollecting a Sunday afternoon moment, when, standing with a group of about six people about to part ways, a friend of mine was about to share something I had said the day before. Because I "knew" [you never really KNOW, do you?] - because I knew what she was going to say, I overlapped toward the person she was more specifically addressing, "She's gonna exaggerate this, just so you know," and I caught the weirdest look for it. It wasn't so much weird as it was unique, in terms of all the facial expressions I've ever seen this person pull in the four years I've known her. But I could guess. It was something like mild shock and preparation to be offended. I don't remember all of what she said but it definitely started with "Well..." She tried to protest but.. I think she was mostly deflated that I had ruined the effect of the story.. pretty much. (I can't say I don't approve of this outcome.)
My goal was to temper her effects, really. I mean when people tell certain stories a certain way - and the person they're talking about reacts a certain way, everyone believes the teller and laughs at the subject. (I hate this.. and it happens too often. I feel like I'm being pummeled in the corner. Maybe that makes me a weak person. Maybe I'm hypersensitive. Still...I make no apologies.) This friend has done this to me MANY, MANY times cuz it's part of her personality. She does it to other people, I've seen, but I'm guessing they deal with it better than I do. I try to correct people... I try to say, This is what actually happened. Or if I'm lucky, I drop a direct quote. Sometimes it's a matter of reason... "Well how could THAT have happened if THIS is clearly true?" Meh... I'm annoyed.
The moral of the story is, I'm glad I got to do that because... I think I'll do it more.
Today.... today, two of my friends were talking about a get-together that we (plus another out-of-townie person) are trying to plan for the near future. The role of information hub has fallen to me which, essentially I don't mind because I talk to the other three quite regularly and I know how to do the relay thing. But in this particular case it has been very frustrating because I end up being viewed as a mouthpiece or a representative or a secretary for the person whose information I'm sharing and I get asked questions that I simply cannot answer. Don't shoot the messenger... Don't interrogate the messenger. Man, screw the messenger, just go talk to the person.
I had said something like, "Man, we suck at communication," or, "We should just all talk at the same time. That might help," in an unforgiving tone. I was not amused. I walk to another room. Friend 1 arrives and Friend 2 starts asking questions to help get our communal information up-to-date. (This is good, sure.) They talk, and I'm doing stuff, whatever, listening, but not looking at them... Then they stop. "Jess...?" I say, "Yea?" without looking up. No answer. So I look. Their expressions don't change, NEIther of them. So I don't know how to react. I keep looking because I expect people who call my name to have something to say, ask, show, give etc. to me. "What," without an upward tone comes out to cut the silence, slightly. I'm still not smiling and don't intend to. Finally I explain: "There was no question..what am I supposed to answer?" They look at each other awkwardly and fumble over some words. "Oh. I guess uh...yea that'll work." Or something. There wasn't much substance cuz they were only trying to talk to cover their awkwardness. I don't.... care. (Can I say that? I hope I read this post tomorrow and can call myself a boorish dolt.) I can't stand people calling my name for no reason -- not just that but expecting me to know what they're about when it's not obvious. If I even had a slight idea, I'd try, I promise. Don't make me guess and just stare me in the face in the mean time. You think I'm playing with you but the truth is I'm just ignorant. Friend 1 does this to me all the time. It pisses me off. Mmmm
Well I need to go talk to God now, and throw around some apologies. Mm-hmm.
Tuesday, 16 October 2007
I am sad that Prizon Break wasn't on tonight.
Stoopid baseball...
I don't like seeing jobs posted online AFTER they've already been posted weeks earlier and AFTER I have had interviews there. BOO! It's happened twice and BOTH from 'views that I nailed. Ahh.. it's stupid conflicts of schedules and crap like that. Boooooourns.
I don't like seeing jobs posted online AFTER they've already been posted weeks earlier and AFTER I have had interviews there. BOO! It's happened twice and BOTH from 'views that I nailed. Ahh.. it's stupid conflicts of schedules and crap like that. Boooooourns.
Sunday, 14 October 2007
still addicted to the cuss
I've been wondering about this lately.
I was trying to figure out what it is that made me able to drop f-bombs (not all the time and never in writing - weird) without getting that foul taste in my mouth and rude sting of regret everywhere else. I mean, it's not painful but neither is it good. Nevermind "good" in terms of the rest of the world or other peole or the Bible, I mean I hardly enjoy it. It's... I'm in the wrong spot between extremes. I'd need to either hang out with people who cussed all the time, making me normal, OR I would need to hang out with people who thought the f-bizzy had its place or... was funny or .. something. I dunno. But I'm not in the right spot. Still, the tempatation remains. It's not like it used to be, either. I used to fantasize about being able to swear out of righteous (or snapping) anger - something that I think "justifies" me.
I'm kinda disappointed that the sound doesn't shock me anymore. Like... it used to be the weirdest flip-out moment for me, every time. I miss that.
I was remembering that it was my friend (who's a Jesus-lover) who dropped a few Fs those many weeks ago who made me think it was "OK" to swear. OK is a bit of a cop-out term but I've got nothing less. I think the incident totally played on my weaknesses, like I was simply waiting for a green light..sitting at the intersection gunning my engine over and over and over again....
Ahh... I was thinking the other day that "the only thing that could stop me" would be if another Jesus-loving friend were to tell me something. I mean, clearly I can't tell me anything and I'm not reading the Bible properly so maybe I gotta go out the same way I came in. (Does this mean I want to stop?)
So I swore today.. because.. well for whatever reason (not really a "good") one and my friend, the only one in the room who heard me - as I intended - said something very contextual and I responded. Then she asked, "Do your flaunt your freedom?" and I replied as quickly as I could, "Unpack that." She said, "No... I can't." Unsure, I claimed, "Well I don't know how to answer that." (I'm sure I don't...) [pause] "What does that mean?" "I don't know, I just want you to think about it. [beat] Galaish it up."
Is that a rebuke? I have to ask myself. Was that it?
In the back of my heart I keep thinking (to God), Was that it? Was that You coming down on me? Shall I take heed?
Hmm... I want to say, "I'm still not sure," but that's a mask. "I'll have to think about that," is a truism. I asked her in the car whenst we left, "What does it mean to flaunt your freedom," borderline exasperated. I know in this sitchs that if you push to hard you lose it all together. You gots to coax it out (if possible). "Coax" is a great Scrabble word. She said she didn't really know, for serious. She said something that resembled, "I don't even know why I said it," which evoked a bitter-sweet reaction in me. On one hand, I thought maybe she was being random and didn't really have anything to say to me (though that theory is faulted by her reference to Galatians). But on the other hand, I thought maybe she was just being an obedient vessel. Ugh.. I hate it when that happens. (I mean I think it's cool but I don't always like.. being corrected. Or humbled. And it is of course in this moment right here that I remember praying either yesterday or the day before that God would humble me. Ah-ha. So He's still listening then. Got it.) Obedient vessel it is. I guess that's the end of that.
(wouldn't it be great if I could voluntarily write a post - a sister post, even - called, "addicted to the cross"? ahh, one day.)
I was trying to figure out what it is that made me able to drop f-bombs (not all the time and never in writing - weird) without getting that foul taste in my mouth and rude sting of regret everywhere else. I mean, it's not painful but neither is it good. Nevermind "good" in terms of the rest of the world or other peole or the Bible, I mean I hardly enjoy it. It's... I'm in the wrong spot between extremes. I'd need to either hang out with people who cussed all the time, making me normal, OR I would need to hang out with people who thought the f-bizzy had its place or... was funny or .. something. I dunno. But I'm not in the right spot. Still, the tempatation remains. It's not like it used to be, either. I used to fantasize about being able to swear out of righteous (or snapping) anger - something that I think "justifies" me.
I'm kinda disappointed that the sound doesn't shock me anymore. Like... it used to be the weirdest flip-out moment for me, every time. I miss that.
I was remembering that it was my friend (who's a Jesus-lover) who dropped a few Fs those many weeks ago who made me think it was "OK" to swear. OK is a bit of a cop-out term but I've got nothing less. I think the incident totally played on my weaknesses, like I was simply waiting for a green light..sitting at the intersection gunning my engine over and over and over again....
Ahh... I was thinking the other day that "the only thing that could stop me" would be if another Jesus-loving friend were to tell me something. I mean, clearly I can't tell me anything and I'm not reading the Bible properly so maybe I gotta go out the same way I came in. (Does this mean I want to stop?)
So I swore today.. because.. well for whatever reason (not really a "good") one and my friend, the only one in the room who heard me - as I intended - said something very contextual and I responded. Then she asked, "Do your flaunt your freedom?" and I replied as quickly as I could, "Unpack that." She said, "No... I can't." Unsure, I claimed, "Well I don't know how to answer that." (I'm sure I don't...) [pause] "What does that mean?" "I don't know, I just want you to think about it. [beat] Galaish it up."
Is that a rebuke? I have to ask myself. Was that it?
In the back of my heart I keep thinking (to God), Was that it? Was that You coming down on me? Shall I take heed?
Hmm... I want to say, "I'm still not sure," but that's a mask. "I'll have to think about that," is a truism. I asked her in the car whenst we left, "What does it mean to flaunt your freedom," borderline exasperated. I know in this sitchs that if you push to hard you lose it all together. You gots to coax it out (if possible). "Coax" is a great Scrabble word. She said she didn't really know, for serious. She said something that resembled, "I don't even know why I said it," which evoked a bitter-sweet reaction in me. On one hand, I thought maybe she was being random and didn't really have anything to say to me (though that theory is faulted by her reference to Galatians). But on the other hand, I thought maybe she was just being an obedient vessel. Ugh.. I hate it when that happens. (I mean I think it's cool but I don't always like.. being corrected. Or humbled. And it is of course in this moment right here that I remember praying either yesterday or the day before that God would humble me. Ah-ha. So He's still listening then. Got it.) Obedient vessel it is. I guess that's the end of that.
(wouldn't it be great if I could voluntarily write a post - a sister post, even - called, "addicted to the cross"? ahh, one day.)
Saturday, 13 October 2007
I think my favorite hero just might be the Headless Horseman (all forms).
Between early afternoon of Saturday the 6th and early morning of Tuesday the 9th, I watched four films at my Dad's house. (Four films I've never seen before.) And I was struck by the fact that each film had something very peculiar in common. I wish I was a drama student, that I might express this concisely but I'm not so I'll just flounder.
- We Are Marshall - 2006
- Constellation - 2005
- Even Money - 2006
- Freedom Land - 2006
I feel like there were actually five films I watched cuz I remember it seeming like TOO MANY for that period of time. O well.
We Are Marshall I happened to be looking forward to seeing because I had watched an interview with Matthew McConaughey talking about the role and about the story the film was based upon. I got tired of Hollywood sports movies about 6 or 7 years ago (maybe more) because there's a limit to how many times I'll watch the SAME story over and over again. I'm pretty sure I've avoided them since. This one I ordinarily would have declined to watch but that little interview convinced me that this may not be from a cookie-cutter. It was good in that respect, it really was. The film surprized me in some ways, it seemed respectful enough to not go too crazy with embellishing the story and generally it was a well put-together piece of action. I think the common theme among these four films is that I couldn't figure out what they were getting at. I watch them and I want to ask, What's the point?, not like they're wasting my time but I don't get what the writer/director/producer people are trying to say. I don't know WHY they made the film. And that's cool. I appreciate the mystery.
With all of these films there seemed to be something in them that was raw for lack of a better word. On average, there were more moments of silence (i.e. without background music) than what you see in most films. Constellation totally threw me for a loop. I don't rightly remember all of what it was about but I do know that it was cool. They showed the tension of race relations in the US (c. WWII) in a way that wasn't cliché but also wasn't sugar-coated so that was neat.
What I liked most about Even Money was that I had at least two or three moments where I had to remind myself that I was still watching the same film. I don't know how long it was or whatever but there were like four different stories unfolding concurrently and they were so distinct and so complete that they could have (I'm cautious with this) been films unto themselves. I really appreciate the compartmentalizing that was involved because it really kept me in the dark in terms of what could come next.
Freedom Land, honest, was like a glorified episode of CSI: [Las Vegas], Miami or New York. It was a mystery - like a murder mystery (whodunnit?) - and it really kept me hangin on. Not just that but it made my dad and I spew our speculations, queries and ideas verbally. It's cool. I mean it's really awesome when a (mainstream) film forces you to engage with it to the point where you've got to share your experience with fellow viewers. I mean, some will keep you talking afterward which is also great but if you're so enraptured while you're watching that you can't seem to help make comments aloud then that's cool, too. Love it. (Fight Club was like this. What else was? ... I gotta work on that.) I didn't expect I'd appreciate a Sammy J film so much. His arrogance can be very repulsive but more in real life than while he's working. And as for Miss Julianne Moore, I was very impressed that she made me forget all the roles of hers I've seen hitherto. Maybe I didn't forget them exactly but I couldn't pick which one I wanted to compare to what I was watching. I thought it was a great film... it just kept me guessing and made me work hard to keep up with it - like The Lord of the Rings trilogy. booya
Friday, 12 October 2007
INappropriate
note to self: do not eat food while watching the initial scenes of CSI: Miami. no good.
Thursday, 11 October 2007
ADIDAS
Soooooooo I'm tired. Finalement.
I arrived at Polling Office 027 at 7 minutes after 8 in the morning. (I was 7 minutes late.) I don't know the exact time I walked out of there but I do know that after I got home, changed my clothes, called in the final numbers on the Referendum (OOPS!) and put a few things away, it was 5 minutes to midnight. Somehow that doesn't make sense to me since... since I KNOW we closed the polls at 9...and the last time I looked at the clock it was 22h30. How can this be? (Number 027 is Tytler Public School, 131 Ontario Street. I live at 140 Ontario street. I go from door to door in under a minute.) What gives?
Hmm...there's too much to tell about a day that long. Too much.
The perks?
Mmmmmm feeling like you're doing a job that most people will not do but that is important. It feels kynda like a civic duty... a.... I don't know. I don't feel like tooting any horns. Poll Clerks (and Deputy Returning Officers and other such peeps) are needed. They are and I look forward to doing this again next year. I do love all the maths and systematizing and organization that's involved. It's so far up my alley it's mental.
I enjoyed the moment when the national anthem played and I stood up almost without thinking. I mean, it's reflex but I also knew I was excited. When the others fell silent, I looked over and saw they were all standing, too. Cool. I don't know how scrutible it was but my facial expression reflected something that resembles childlike awe. My eyes were round, off in the distance (checking out the mountains, perhaps?), my chin held high and I smiled faintly. I went in and out of being aware of what I was doing. It was a good moment.
Things I Hate
-Sandals on men.
-Sandals on women.
-Sandals.
(I really only feel strongly about the first point but I can't justify it, save for the fact that I'm attracted to men and not to women.. meaning I sometimes care about what they look like.)
I had a monster cup of Kenya tea this morning, around 9.30 (I'm amazed that it was still reasonably hot by that time when I made it at 8.04 and couldn't get a hold of my housemate to deliver it for me until an hour and half later). I had a lemon pudding shortly thereafter and around 13h08, I ordered a pizza. (I doubt that was allowed or approved of but there you have it.) Eight hours and six slices later, I LOATHE pizza. It's not so much that I mind eating it more than once during the course of one day, the problem is that I would have liked to switch it up just a LITTLE bit in between, like say with a glass of juice or some salad, maybe a few cookies (can I describe my love & weakness for chocolate?) probably because you gotta have that balance between bready and fruity/vegetably. I didn't know what I'd eat when I came home cuz there's not much here but sauteed zucchini (which I forgot I had) and fried curryish shrimp (which I forgot I had) was absolutely delicious. It was so non-carby, too. I feel more balanced than I thought I would be by the end of this day. I thought I'd have to work it out tomorrow. Love it.
There were many Italians who came to our poll. I think that's cool only because I am fascinated by Italian culture (the food, the values, the history I know nothing about...) and enchanted by the language. It's cool.
I appreciate all the people who voted in the election today and at the advanced polls. I wonder about the missing demographic, though. It's a bit ridiculous.
I did not particularly enjoy the moment when my Deputy Returning Officer (the guy who manned the table with me the whole day) asked me if I had been at uni for 5 years because I was not taking a full courseload or because I was failing courses. That made me feel pretty weird. I can handle being judged or looked down on by people I know but for a stranger to say that -- a stranger of like two hours -- it hurt pretty bad. AH! (Am I obvious or something? Yea, I'm failing school...Is it written on my forehead? Gosh.)
Quote from the Ceebs Report that's on right now:
He was giving a "Tip of My Hat" to French youth ("not for their indifference or cool smoking habits") because a group of them broke into the Musée d'Orsay and punched a hole in a Monet painting. In a mock-concerned and sing-song voice he exclaims, "Ohh! Monet was such a GEEnius! [beat; audience laughs] Well if he was such a genius he should have painted on something less punchable, like a highway sign."
I arrived at Polling Office 027 at 7 minutes after 8 in the morning. (I was 7 minutes late.) I don't know the exact time I walked out of there but I do know that after I got home, changed my clothes, called in the final numbers on the Referendum (OOPS!) and put a few things away, it was 5 minutes to midnight. Somehow that doesn't make sense to me since... since I KNOW we closed the polls at 9...and the last time I looked at the clock it was 22h30. How can this be? (Number 027 is Tytler Public School, 131 Ontario Street. I live at 140 Ontario street. I go from door to door in under a minute.) What gives?
Hmm...there's too much to tell about a day that long. Too much.
The perks?
Mmmmmm feeling like you're doing a job that most people will not do but that is important. It feels kynda like a civic duty... a.... I don't know. I don't feel like tooting any horns. Poll Clerks (and Deputy Returning Officers and other such peeps) are needed. They are and I look forward to doing this again next year. I do love all the maths and systematizing and organization that's involved. It's so far up my alley it's mental.
I enjoyed the moment when the national anthem played and I stood up almost without thinking. I mean, it's reflex but I also knew I was excited. When the others fell silent, I looked over and saw they were all standing, too. Cool. I don't know how scrutible it was but my facial expression reflected something that resembles childlike awe. My eyes were round, off in the distance (checking out the mountains, perhaps?), my chin held high and I smiled faintly. I went in and out of being aware of what I was doing. It was a good moment.
Things I Hate
-Sandals on men.
-Sandals on women.
-Sandals.
(I really only feel strongly about the first point but I can't justify it, save for the fact that I'm attracted to men and not to women.. meaning I sometimes care about what they look like.)
I had a monster cup of Kenya tea this morning, around 9.30 (I'm amazed that it was still reasonably hot by that time when I made it at 8.04 and couldn't get a hold of my housemate to deliver it for me until an hour and half later). I had a lemon pudding shortly thereafter and around 13h08, I ordered a pizza. (I doubt that was allowed or approved of but there you have it.) Eight hours and six slices later, I LOATHE pizza. It's not so much that I mind eating it more than once during the course of one day, the problem is that I would have liked to switch it up just a LITTLE bit in between, like say with a glass of juice or some salad, maybe a few cookies (can I describe my love & weakness for chocolate?) probably because you gotta have that balance between bready and fruity/vegetably. I didn't know what I'd eat when I came home cuz there's not much here but sauteed zucchini (which I forgot I had) and fried curryish shrimp (which I forgot I had) was absolutely delicious. It was so non-carby, too. I feel more balanced than I thought I would be by the end of this day. I thought I'd have to work it out tomorrow. Love it.
There were many Italians who came to our poll. I think that's cool only because I am fascinated by Italian culture (the food, the values, the history I know nothing about...) and enchanted by the language. It's cool.
I appreciate all the people who voted in the election today and at the advanced polls. I wonder about the missing demographic, though. It's a bit ridiculous.
I did not particularly enjoy the moment when my Deputy Returning Officer (the guy who manned the table with me the whole day) asked me if I had been at uni for 5 years because I was not taking a full courseload or because I was failing courses. That made me feel pretty weird. I can handle being judged or looked down on by people I know but for a stranger to say that -- a stranger of like two hours -- it hurt pretty bad. AH! (Am I obvious or something? Yea, I'm failing school...Is it written on my forehead? Gosh.)
Quote from the Ceebs Report that's on right now:
He was giving a "Tip of My Hat" to French youth ("not for their indifference or cool smoking habits") because a group of them broke into the Musée d'Orsay and punched a hole in a Monet painting. In a mock-concerned and sing-song voice he exclaims, "Ohh! Monet was such a GEEnius! [beat; audience laughs] Well if he was such a genius he should have painted on something less punchable, like a highway sign."
Wednesday, 10 October 2007
I'm pretty sure that pumpkin pie is just baby pablum in a pie crust.
I need to make a list:
Types of Apples that I Hate
-Granny Smith
Today my third brother said to me, "Jess.... what do I have to do to be like you ...spiritually?" This by itself isn't as monumentous as it may seem to the untrained eye but what it represents, in light of the whole conversation, in light of the past few weeks and in light of what I've been wondering in the last lil while - what it represents is very good.
"What does born-again mean?" is not as easy a question to answer as I would have guessed. I try to avoid clichés, platitudes and Christianese in general but I find it especially important when I'm speaking with people who are not Christians about anything to do with Christianity because it's not so much about my beefs as it is about the other person's understanding.
Books I am Excited to Read
-"I am America (and So Can You!)" by Stephen T Colbert.
I definitely hugged this book (sorta before I remembered I was in public) after it had been paid for and was OFFICIALLY one of my very own possessions. I don't know... I think I'll finish it in... three days. I predict three days. I'm excited.
great moment in cinematic history..
two of my brothers and I were walking last ..yesterday, and Brother #2 randomly pointed out, "Hey this is cool - we're in order of height!" and he was true. Brother #1 always flips out when Brothers #2 or 3 bring up respective height because he is the oldest yet shortest of the three (at 6'1") and takes pride in his size. He mock-cried and walked around so he could be in the "tallest" position and said, "Shut up! ... At least I'm taller in mind! .... (Brother 2 and I laughed) .. I don't know what that means."
ahhh... "I'm taller in mind." I want to find a way to over-use that phrase.
I needa sleep.
Types of Apples that I Hate
-Granny Smith
Today my third brother said to me, "Jess.... what do I have to do to be like you ...spiritually?" This by itself isn't as monumentous as it may seem to the untrained eye but what it represents, in light of the whole conversation, in light of the past few weeks and in light of what I've been wondering in the last lil while - what it represents is very good.
"What does born-again mean?" is not as easy a question to answer as I would have guessed. I try to avoid clichés, platitudes and Christianese in general but I find it especially important when I'm speaking with people who are not Christians about anything to do with Christianity because it's not so much about my beefs as it is about the other person's understanding.
Books I am Excited to Read
-"I am America (and So Can You!)" by Stephen T Colbert.
I definitely hugged this book (sorta before I remembered I was in public) after it had been paid for and was OFFICIALLY one of my very own possessions. I don't know... I think I'll finish it in... three days. I predict three days. I'm excited.
great moment in cinematic history..
two of my brothers and I were walking last ..yesterday, and Brother #2 randomly pointed out, "Hey this is cool - we're in order of height!" and he was true. Brother #1 always flips out when Brothers #2 or 3 bring up respective height because he is the oldest yet shortest of the three (at 6'1") and takes pride in his size. He mock-cried and walked around so he could be in the "tallest" position and said, "Shut up! ... At least I'm taller in mind! .... (Brother 2 and I laughed) .. I don't know what that means."
ahhh... "I'm taller in mind." I want to find a way to over-use that phrase.
I needa sleep.
Sunday, 7 October 2007
(trying not to type the f-bomb about 3 times in this post)
It's Sunday morning (2.34 AM).
I'm thinking about what tomorrow is going to look like. It's going to be crazy. It's unbelievable how uncomfortable and helpless and s-t-r-a-i-n-e-d I feel (note: "feel") when I'm here at my dad's house.
Parent #1 asked if we wanted to get a movie and most peeps was in agreement. They all go out to the store, Parent #2 and I are left here. They come back with four DVDs after Parent #2 has gone up for a nap and asked me to ask them to wake him up upon their return. (I forget to do this.) Brother #3 eats too much cheesecake and goes to his room soon thereafter. The film has been playing for less than twenty minutes, including the trailers. Brother #1 perseveres for a while then says out of nowhere, "Well, I'm definitely going to bed. ... I got up too early." It's true: he was underslept and the Red Bull clearly wasn't helping and we all know there's no point struggling to half-watch a film when you can fully watch it later. So he left. I thought he was going to finish the Bull or just walk around or try to go to bed and then come back (it's happened before) but no, he was gone. I can appreciate that. Parent #1 remained. She got up after a little while (the film has now reached something like... minute 45 or 50) moved the couch to its proper spot, pushed in chairs at the dining table [new and weird addition!], put some dishes away, etc. etc. and I thought she was going to bed, which would make sense. But no, she flopped back on the couch and kept a-starin'. She was definitely conked out within 15 minutes, though. So... around 1.27AM I find myself alone watching a film (which, by itself, is fine) but I think it's ironic and preeeetty dumb that there was all that "excitement" and no one persevered. If, however, we had elected to watch a comedy or an action flick first, I think people's attention would have certainly been better held. We might have.. well they might have actually FOUGHT to get through it.
Earlier today Parent #1 asked if I had ever "fallen in love with a black guy."
"Uhhhhh...weird question," I throw out, as I mess my hand over my face to buy some time.
Sister #2 felt the same way I did, as I know Sister #1 does and I just .. I just think it's ridiculous that Parent #1 couldn't appreciate our standpoint. [I just had a moment of realization that blogging is so lame. For me, right now, on this topic, it is way lame. And I continue.] It's not that I would never marry a negroid or that I could never like one, it's just that... well statistically, I have more often liked white boys than..well, non-white boys. Part of it is just availability. The other part of it is the stigma. (Is there a better word than "stigma"?) I tried to explain to her that 9 of the 10 dirty men who have hit on me (or worse) were black and so, generally, I try to steer clear of those kind of guys - mostly when I'm in public and especially when I'm alone. Is that to say that I would avoid them at parties or treat them with contempt if my friend was introducing us? Heck no! I aint even think of stuff like this in the moment. It's not a kind of "Beware, he's black!" warning sign that flashes through my mind and dictates my actions. I just have a hard time (sometimes) NOT expecting them to be gross. But really.. this applies to chance meetings... not to people I actually KNOW. If I know them then they aint jerks. Or.. or, you know, I'd just leave. I aint gotta stand for that crap.
But she didn't get it. She said that she was.. either "disturbed" or "concerned" by this notion. It was one of those or it was "disappointed." It was something harsh(-ish); not an every day stance/emotion. I don't really like this. I wish we could have talked about this further so we could understand one another better. I know I'm not wrong and I know that she thinks I am only because she doesn't get what I'm saying.
I'm not even saying I don't like black guys, I'm saying I don't like guys who do certain things in relation to me. I don't like that they make me feel so disgusting and so little I want to scream. It's ridiculous. There was this one time I was walking down the street with my sister, from 26th street to 42nd, and in that distance, there and back, five different guys or groups of guys called out to us. The last one - holy SHIT - made me so mad I punched a lamppost. Punching a lamppost sounds dumb but getting a quick, violent release for anger feels good some times. We all know that. Good? Yes. Healthy? Maybe not so much. I think the worst part about this whole fiasco is that I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do to prevent it, I don't know what to do in the moment and I wouldn't know what to do by way of remedy AFTER the fact. I mean, a preventative measure might be staying home forever. I would, but I need my 5 minutes of vitamin D every day to keep the seratonin floating. My variation on this is called wearing a hoodie or shapeless clothing or otherwise hiding your face/looking away/crossing the street... I'm amazed at how that doesn't help, some times. Simply amazed. In the moment, I'm pretty good at scowling but most guys don't see that. I'm not sure it actually registers for them that I am NOT amused. This also boggles my mind. Afterwards? Ai.... what can I say? Breathing deeply would be good. Trying to "let it go" is a popular choice. I've often wondered if I could yell profanities (I'm imagining a drive-by situation). I've always thought that yelling something colorful would "help" but it won't. People would say that's "stooping to their level," or, "letting them get the best of you." I don't mind either of those accusations but I DO mind not being found blameless so I forego the option.
Sisters 1 and 2 get it. The problem is that demographic X seems to be attracted to demographic Z which, my sisters and I are a part of. It's predictable. You can see a person and just KNOW what they're going to say or do... it's weird. I'm getting frustrated just typing it because I imagine any one reading this won't get it. It's... it's screaming at a brick wall. My own brother thinks I'm/we're imagining it. Ahh.... and that's the end.
I'm thinking about what tomorrow is going to look like. It's going to be crazy. It's unbelievable how uncomfortable and helpless and s-t-r-a-i-n-e-d I feel (note: "feel") when I'm here at my dad's house.
Parent #1 asked if we wanted to get a movie and most peeps was in agreement. They all go out to the store, Parent #2 and I are left here. They come back with four DVDs after Parent #2 has gone up for a nap and asked me to ask them to wake him up upon their return. (I forget to do this.) Brother #3 eats too much cheesecake and goes to his room soon thereafter. The film has been playing for less than twenty minutes, including the trailers. Brother #1 perseveres for a while then says out of nowhere, "Well, I'm definitely going to bed. ... I got up too early." It's true: he was underslept and the Red Bull clearly wasn't helping and we all know there's no point struggling to half-watch a film when you can fully watch it later. So he left. I thought he was going to finish the Bull or just walk around or try to go to bed and then come back (it's happened before) but no, he was gone. I can appreciate that. Parent #1 remained. She got up after a little while (the film has now reached something like... minute 45 or 50) moved the couch to its proper spot, pushed in chairs at the dining table [new and weird addition!], put some dishes away, etc. etc. and I thought she was going to bed, which would make sense. But no, she flopped back on the couch and kept a-starin'. She was definitely conked out within 15 minutes, though. So... around 1.27AM I find myself alone watching a film (which, by itself, is fine) but I think it's ironic and preeeetty dumb that there was all that "excitement" and no one persevered. If, however, we had elected to watch a comedy or an action flick first, I think people's attention would have certainly been better held. We might have.. well they might have actually FOUGHT to get through it.
Earlier today Parent #1 asked if I had ever "fallen in love with a black guy."
"Uhhhhh...weird question," I throw out, as I mess my hand over my face to buy some time.
Sister #2 felt the same way I did, as I know Sister #1 does and I just .. I just think it's ridiculous that Parent #1 couldn't appreciate our standpoint. [I just had a moment of realization that blogging is so lame. For me, right now, on this topic, it is way lame. And I continue.] It's not that I would never marry a negroid or that I could never like one, it's just that... well statistically, I have more often liked white boys than..well, non-white boys. Part of it is just availability. The other part of it is the stigma. (Is there a better word than "stigma"?) I tried to explain to her that 9 of the 10 dirty men who have hit on me (or worse) were black and so, generally, I try to steer clear of those kind of guys - mostly when I'm in public and especially when I'm alone. Is that to say that I would avoid them at parties or treat them with contempt if my friend was introducing us? Heck no! I aint even think of stuff like this in the moment. It's not a kind of "Beware, he's black!" warning sign that flashes through my mind and dictates my actions. I just have a hard time (sometimes) NOT expecting them to be gross. But really.. this applies to chance meetings... not to people I actually KNOW. If I know them then they aint jerks. Or.. or, you know, I'd just leave. I aint gotta stand for that crap.
But she didn't get it. She said that she was.. either "disturbed" or "concerned" by this notion. It was one of those or it was "disappointed." It was something harsh(-ish); not an every day stance/emotion. I don't really like this. I wish we could have talked about this further so we could understand one another better. I know I'm not wrong and I know that she thinks I am only because she doesn't get what I'm saying.
I'm not even saying I don't like black guys, I'm saying I don't like guys who do certain things in relation to me. I don't like that they make me feel so disgusting and so little I want to scream. It's ridiculous. There was this one time I was walking down the street with my sister, from 26th street to 42nd, and in that distance, there and back, five different guys or groups of guys called out to us. The last one - holy SHIT - made me so mad I punched a lamppost. Punching a lamppost sounds dumb but getting a quick, violent release for anger feels good some times. We all know that. Good? Yes. Healthy? Maybe not so much. I think the worst part about this whole fiasco is that I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do to prevent it, I don't know what to do in the moment and I wouldn't know what to do by way of remedy AFTER the fact. I mean, a preventative measure might be staying home forever. I would, but I need my 5 minutes of vitamin D every day to keep the seratonin floating. My variation on this is called wearing a hoodie or shapeless clothing or otherwise hiding your face/looking away/crossing the street... I'm amazed at how that doesn't help, some times. Simply amazed. In the moment, I'm pretty good at scowling but most guys don't see that. I'm not sure it actually registers for them that I am NOT amused. This also boggles my mind. Afterwards? Ai.... what can I say? Breathing deeply would be good. Trying to "let it go" is a popular choice. I've often wondered if I could yell profanities (I'm imagining a drive-by situation). I've always thought that yelling something colorful would "help" but it won't. People would say that's "stooping to their level," or, "letting them get the best of you." I don't mind either of those accusations but I DO mind not being found blameless so I forego the option.
Sisters 1 and 2 get it. The problem is that demographic X seems to be attracted to demographic Z which, my sisters and I are a part of. It's predictable. You can see a person and just KNOW what they're going to say or do... it's weird. I'm getting frustrated just typing it because I imagine any one reading this won't get it. It's... it's screaming at a brick wall. My own brother thinks I'm/we're imagining it. Ahh.... and that's the end.
Saturday, 6 October 2007
"And what does your husband do?"
Someone asked me that at a Euchre table yestereve. I just... don't even know where to begin with how weird that was. All I could do was nervously laugh, "My husband??!" They looked at eachother strangely and then I had to ask (since no one understood the ludicrousness), "What ever made you think I had a husband?" (Slight awkward pause) "Oh... nevermind. I don't know where I got that idea. I thought you just said..." (I had just finished answering a question about me studying Music or Agriculture or something so this was lost on me.) The girl to my right was like, "I thought you were laughing at your husband and I was like, what?"
Ai... how do you smooth over the awkwardness and sheer weirdness of such a situation? You don't. You just keep playing.
(I kept trying to play back what I had just said to figure out what was misinterpreted or misheard and I couldnst figure it out to save my life. I think the problem was that the shock blanked out my immediate memories. Usually I'm pretty good with playback but this was just crazy.) I thought I was so careful and all.. I don't know these people well at all so if they know then maybe everyone knows.... Or it was just a fluke/lucky guess. yiikes.
Ai... how do you smooth over the awkwardness and sheer weirdness of such a situation? You don't. You just keep playing.
(I kept trying to play back what I had just said to figure out what was misinterpreted or misheard and I couldnst figure it out to save my life. I think the problem was that the shock blanked out my immediate memories. Usually I'm pretty good with playback but this was just crazy.) I thought I was so careful and all.. I don't know these people well at all so if they know then maybe everyone knows.... Or it was just a fluke/lucky guess. yiikes.
I'm making cheesecake. You are not.
I am excited about it. You might be.
I got to talk to my brother #2 the other day and I'm still riding the high of it. You might not appreciate that.
I think I'm hungry but I can't tell. It doesn't quite make sense. I don't know if I had dinner or not.
I wonder why I can't play piano like I used to.
I wonder if I should go to Bible college.
I wonder why people read blogs.
I wonder why people read my blog.
I wonder... hmm.
I wonder when I'll get to start working.
I wonder where I will be on October 27th. I'm already double-booked with the the potential to be triple-.
I love reading and I need to do it more.
I don't read update newsletters from my friends who work for Campus for Christ very often. When I read them, I do it thoroughly and proplerly but I'm often a few weeks or a few months behind because I can't always (or often feel that I can't always) devote the time to ... devote the time...
HmmmMMMM. I wonder if I'll ever own an i-pod. I wonder if I'll ever get married. I wonder if I'll ever be a mother.
I wonder if I can ever get it. I wonnnnnnnnderrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
Will I ever have someone to answer to?
I definitely am hungry, despite the banana split from 1.5 hours ago.
Tight pants are a funny business...ill-fitting clothing is awkward in general.
Bad grammar pisses me off. I still wanna read. I love.... delving into a world that someone else has created. Hey - non-fictions are cool, too.
suspicious?
I am excited about it. You might be.
I got to talk to my brother #2 the other day and I'm still riding the high of it. You might not appreciate that.
I think I'm hungry but I can't tell. It doesn't quite make sense. I don't know if I had dinner or not.
I wonder why I can't play piano like I used to.
I wonder if I should go to Bible college.
I wonder why people read blogs.
I wonder why people read my blog.
I wonder... hmm.
I wonder when I'll get to start working.
I wonder where I will be on October 27th. I'm already double-booked with the the potential to be triple-.
I love reading and I need to do it more.
I don't read update newsletters from my friends who work for Campus for Christ very often. When I read them, I do it thoroughly and proplerly but I'm often a few weeks or a few months behind because I can't always (or often feel that I can't always) devote the time to ... devote the time...
HmmmMMMM. I wonder if I'll ever own an i-pod. I wonder if I'll ever get married. I wonder if I'll ever be a mother.
I wonder if I can ever get it. I wonnnnnnnnderrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
Will I ever have someone to answer to?
I definitely am hungry, despite the banana split from 1.5 hours ago.
Tight pants are a funny business...ill-fitting clothing is awkward in general.
Bad grammar pisses me off. I still wanna read. I love.... delving into a world that someone else has created. Hey - non-fictions are cool, too.
suspicious?
Wednesday, 3 October 2007
I'm not sure humans were made for water
..but I just can't deny how I love to be submerged in it. Ahhh to swim.
It's so unique among all activities and the feeling can't be replicated anywhere. I've never been in a bathtub full enough and showers just don't cut it.
Every single part of you touched by cool eau... It's great.
I don't think I have been this nervous for any given interview this job-search session. (Or maybe ever... probably ever.) I'm not quite sure WHY, either. It wasn't a "big deal" as far as big deals go but I would really like to eat some toast right now. This is why I think it'd be a good idea for me to go buy some bread.
Anyways, I did certainly clap my hands (involuntarily?) with excitement when I saw the posting for this job a week or two ago and I was pretty confident they'd call me in for a view soon enough. But that lil twelve-minute walk to the gallows, it was harder than expected! I couldn't help lamenting how I "didn't feel prepared". Heck, who am I kidding? I NEVERZ feel prepared, not for these things. I wish I could have done more research or planned my answers or cleared my mind or SOMEthing. I don't know how to do this crap...
But anyways.. I fell into the old familiar groove, that bum depression in your favorite chaise. Historically familiar, anyways... not actually... recently familiar (-ish). I remembered how there once was a time (and a man from Nantucket) when I was happy to be uncomfortable or nervous or lacking confidence because it meant that I had to drag my sorry self back to the Padre and ask for help. Not just to ask for help but to admit that I was fully incapable of doing activity X on my own. It's cool. It's relieveing to admit your weaknesses and shortcommings. I stopped on the bridge on my way there to tell Him about all my shortcommings, weaknesses, faults, voids, etc. etc. and how I thought they would make the perfect breeding ground for His abundance, strengths and perfection. [I'd like to take this opportunity to throw in the word "longcommings".]
So, (dot, dot, dot), I didn't have a miracle breakthrough, I didn't suddenly feel all better. But I did what I was supposed to do and that's good. It's good to.... take action in spite of myself...action that I know will bring me closer to being who I should be, some time in the not-so-distant future.
The interview was fine. I ..border-line enjoyed it. I mean.. I did say something stupid when he first introduced himself but there's a good chance he didn't hear me/doesn't care. Quoi d'autre? .... Well it's over and I do enjoy the post-interview high. It often smells like accomplishment. But, I do also realize that I'm back at the proverbial drawing board but there we are.
It's so unique among all activities and the feeling can't be replicated anywhere. I've never been in a bathtub full enough and showers just don't cut it.
Every single part of you touched by cool eau... It's great.
I don't think I have been this nervous for any given interview this job-search session. (Or maybe ever... probably ever.) I'm not quite sure WHY, either. It wasn't a "big deal" as far as big deals go but I would really like to eat some toast right now. This is why I think it'd be a good idea for me to go buy some bread.
Anyways, I did certainly clap my hands (involuntarily?) with excitement when I saw the posting for this job a week or two ago and I was pretty confident they'd call me in for a view soon enough. But that lil twelve-minute walk to the gallows, it was harder than expected! I couldn't help lamenting how I "didn't feel prepared". Heck, who am I kidding? I NEVERZ feel prepared, not for these things. I wish I could have done more research or planned my answers or cleared my mind or SOMEthing. I don't know how to do this crap...
But anyways.. I fell into the old familiar groove, that bum depression in your favorite chaise. Historically familiar, anyways... not actually... recently familiar (-ish). I remembered how there once was a time (and a man from Nantucket) when I was happy to be uncomfortable or nervous or lacking confidence because it meant that I had to drag my sorry self back to the Padre and ask for help. Not just to ask for help but to admit that I was fully incapable of doing activity X on my own. It's cool. It's relieveing to admit your weaknesses and shortcommings. I stopped on the bridge on my way there to tell Him about all my shortcommings, weaknesses, faults, voids, etc. etc. and how I thought they would make the perfect breeding ground for His abundance, strengths and perfection. [I'd like to take this opportunity to throw in the word "longcommings".]
So, (dot, dot, dot), I didn't have a miracle breakthrough, I didn't suddenly feel all better. But I did what I was supposed to do and that's good. It's good to.... take action in spite of myself...action that I know will bring me closer to being who I should be, some time in the not-so-distant future.
The interview was fine. I ..border-line enjoyed it. I mean.. I did say something stupid when he first introduced himself but there's a good chance he didn't hear me/doesn't care. Quoi d'autre? .... Well it's over and I do enjoy the post-interview high. It often smells like accomplishment. But, I do also realize that I'm back at the proverbial drawing board but there we are.
Tuesday, 2 October 2007
Octobes hath arrived.
On tonight's episode of the Colbert Report, Colby was doing another installment of "Cheating Death with Dr Stephen T. Colbert" which is always great. I was actually only half listening ... cuz I'm no longer obsessed with him and cuz I was talking to someone online but I did manage to crib these few nuggets:
"When you ingest chemicals that are bad for you, [your body] alerts you ... by dying."
This one, I remember, was from VaxaMamm, a male breast reduction cream. Apparently you're supposed to, "Apply it once and then go immediately to the hospital. [Laughs] Get that stuff off. It burns. Side effects may include: autonomous nipples, migrating genitals aaand .... brain-tooth."
That last one really got me. "Brain-tooth." Ha... some how it's not such a foreign thing for me to conjure a mental image for and I do blame The Simpsons. His "Cheating Death" segments are very similar in format and tonight I was reflecting on how it is very possible that the writers of the show will soon run out of obsure side-effects to cite. I mean, that's how he ends his spiel on every product. It's a .. trademark but I don't know that it's a staple. I think it's part of a larger picture. I think it serves to make the whole segment ridiculous (duh), to make Colb a clearly UNqualified "doctor" and to make every product COMPLETELY unmarketable and undesirable and unhelpful, etc. etc. ... rendering the whole thing useless.
But I mean... I haven't gotten tired of it yet. Most of the side-effects are gross (the audience will groan) but they are related to the product they are connected to which is good. It's a little tiny thread tied onto sensibleness. (...sensibility?) But brain-tooth....ahhh so great. I liked the time he recommended something where one of its side-effects was the actual ailment it was meant to cure. great times.
"When you ingest chemicals that are bad for you, [your body] alerts you ... by dying."
This one, I remember, was from VaxaMamm, a male breast reduction cream. Apparently you're supposed to, "Apply it once and then go immediately to the hospital. [Laughs] Get that stuff off. It burns. Side effects may include: autonomous nipples, migrating genitals aaand .... brain-tooth."
That last one really got me. "Brain-tooth." Ha... some how it's not such a foreign thing for me to conjure a mental image for and I do blame The Simpsons. His "Cheating Death" segments are very similar in format and tonight I was reflecting on how it is very possible that the writers of the show will soon run out of obsure side-effects to cite. I mean, that's how he ends his spiel on every product. It's a .. trademark but I don't know that it's a staple. I think it's part of a larger picture. I think it serves to make the whole segment ridiculous (duh), to make Colb a clearly UNqualified "doctor" and to make every product COMPLETELY unmarketable and undesirable and unhelpful, etc. etc. ... rendering the whole thing useless.
But I mean... I haven't gotten tired of it yet. Most of the side-effects are gross (the audience will groan) but they are related to the product they are connected to which is good. It's a little tiny thread tied onto sensibleness. (...sensibility?) But brain-tooth....ahhh so great. I liked the time he recommended something where one of its side-effects was the actual ailment it was meant to cure. great times.
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