This Friday, I attended an event celebrating Black History Month (or as I recently discovered it could alternately be called, "African Heritage Month"... : ) through Spoken Word.
There were two men who came to speak to us in a way that, put simply, blew my mind (and I am sure I was not the only one). I think one of the guys' URL was http://www.whenthesewordsspeak.com and I suppose it's worth checking out to hear some of the bombs he drops. Speaking in tight rhyme - to me - is one of the most impressive and powervul ways to express oneself. There is something about the unique organization of sounds that hits you in waves of bam-bam-bam and you struggle to keep up (though you miss nothing).
Here are a few brilliant ideas that I recollect from their presentations:
- music can only take part of the blame for how we act (specifically in terms of violence and so forth) - no more, no less - because it does give you ideas but you still have control over yourself
killa line: "it brings out no more than what was already inside of you"
- when two slave-drivers walked together and one spied his property afar, he exclaimed, "Yo, that's my nigger." when a black youth walks with his friends and spies another (black) acquaintance afar he says, "Yo! That's ma nigga!"
The second fellow had a peice called, "The Sum of Her Parts," and boy! could it ever instigate a resurgence of chivalry if he who had ears would listen. The man took responsibility (finally!) for what women are doing to themselves (ourselves?). He said that men created the image too lofty to attain and women, falling short, are judged by each part and driven to change them with money, pain and general artificiality. The worst part? The man still does not see the whole of her. Dude said, she presents you with her whole - prizing her soul - and all the man takes her for is her hole. Imagine.. presenting the whole out of desperation - even emphasizing the soul -, being accepted/exploited for which pieces make the cut and yet still not being worth holding onto. [Here I write my own summary, not all directy quotations.] I thought, if this man could just tell it to his peers, how this world would change. How amazing to see a man take responsibility. As with the "Murder Music" song, mentioned above, we note of course that women take part of the blame because no one forces them to listen to what the world says. However, I'd argue it is easy to be influence/brain-washed when you have no alternative in-coming messages.
Sunday, 12 February 2006
my wedding collection
Last Thursday, I started a collection of things to take to a wedding and here they are.
Something old: Choosing not to respond to someone's email (or instant message) is strikingly similar to walking away from someone after they've posed a question directly to your face (i.e. slightly rude).
Something new: (While contemplating the discipline of fasting--) God does not take pleasure in us experiencing pain but He delights when we persevere through pain for His sake. I have often thought that, if it does not hurt, then it cannot be good (when it comes to sacrificial/selfless-type things like this).
Something borrowed: I appreciate all the Good King Wenceslasses* because I do not like getting snow inside my shoes.
Something blue: Sometimes I feel like my life is a joke without a punchline. [In this case, I take "blue" in the figurative sense like "gloomy, depressed; dismal, dreary"**]
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* GOOD KING WENCESLAS - John M. Neale
Good King Wenceslas looked out on the Feast of Stephen,
When the snow lay round about, deep and crisp and even.
Brightly shone the moon that night, though the frost was cruel,
When a poor man came in sight, gathering winter fuel.
“Hither, page, and stand by me, if you know it, telling,
Yonder peasant, who is he? Where and what his dwelling?”
“Sire, he lives a good league hence, underneath the mountain,
Right against the forest fence, by Saint Agnes’ fountain.”
“Bring me food and bring me wine, bring me pine logs hither,
You and I will see him dine, when we bear them thither.”
Page and monarch, forth they went, forth they went together,
Through the cold wind’s wild lament and the bitter weather.
“Sire, the night is darker now, and the wind blows stronger,
Fails my heart, I know not how; I can go no longer.”
“Mark my footsteps, my good page, tread now in them boldly,
You shall find the winter’s rage freeze your blood less coldly.”
In his master’s steps he trod, where the snow lay dinted;
Heat was in the very sod which the saint had printed.
Therefore, Christian men, be sure, wealth or rank possessing,
You who now will bless the poor shall yourselves find blessing.
http://www.cyberhymnal.org/htm/g/o/goodking.htm
** http://dictionary.reference.com/search?q=blue
Something old: Choosing not to respond to someone's email (or instant message) is strikingly similar to walking away from someone after they've posed a question directly to your face (i.e. slightly rude).
Something new: (While contemplating the discipline of fasting--) God does not take pleasure in us experiencing pain but He delights when we persevere through pain for His sake. I have often thought that, if it does not hurt, then it cannot be good (when it comes to sacrificial/selfless-type things like this).
Something borrowed: I appreciate all the Good King Wenceslasses* because I do not like getting snow inside my shoes.
Something blue: Sometimes I feel like my life is a joke without a punchline. [In this case, I take "blue" in the figurative sense like "gloomy, depressed; dismal, dreary"**]
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* GOOD KING WENCESLAS - John M. Neale
Good King Wenceslas looked out on the Feast of Stephen,
When the snow lay round about, deep and crisp and even.
Brightly shone the moon that night, though the frost was cruel,
When a poor man came in sight, gathering winter fuel.
“Hither, page, and stand by me, if you know it, telling,
Yonder peasant, who is he? Where and what his dwelling?”
“Sire, he lives a good league hence, underneath the mountain,
Right against the forest fence, by Saint Agnes’ fountain.”
“Bring me food and bring me wine, bring me pine logs hither,
You and I will see him dine, when we bear them thither.”
Page and monarch, forth they went, forth they went together,
Through the cold wind’s wild lament and the bitter weather.
“Sire, the night is darker now, and the wind blows stronger,
Fails my heart, I know not how; I can go no longer.”
“Mark my footsteps, my good page, tread now in them boldly,
You shall find the winter’s rage freeze your blood less coldly.”
In his master’s steps he trod, where the snow lay dinted;
Heat was in the very sod which the saint had printed.
Therefore, Christian men, be sure, wealth or rank possessing,
You who now will bless the poor shall yourselves find blessing.
http://www.cyberhymnal.org/htm/g/o/goodking.htm
** http://dictionary.reference.com/search?q=blue
Saturday, 4 February 2006
There is something within me that has opposed guilt for as long as I can remember. As I got older, I understood better this repulsion and soon enough I could articulate it, putting my finger precisely on the offending emotion.
In my past year, in relationship with Jesus, I have learned many lessons and truths connected to guilt. I love Romans 8:1 that says, "Therefore there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus." In an entry about the PASSION concert in Toronto, I mentioned that Louis Giglio had reminded us that "shame is over with" (shame here I equate with guilt for the sake of argument) and the revelation struck me hard though I know this as a truth. There is something marvellous about shame - as in it makes me marvel - where it can take over your whole being and turn you into a very sorry and sad creature. Many men on Earth walk in shame, some are aware of it, others are not yet so, because inherently we know when something has gone wrong in our lives. You might love pornography and feel great when you access it but, at some point, you will feel dirty and regretful beyond belief, left only with the options of denial, self-pity or more pornography - or perhaps all three combined. Some of us become ashamed of our arrogance or pride when we realize that we are utterly alone because of how much we boast. Some are shamed by a choice to reject the chuch (in whatever sense you recognize that), with the desire to return marred by the assurance that they blew their chances BIG TIME. (For the record, the deadline for getting right with the church - in the Body-of-Christ sense; it's not a building - is the end of life on earth as we know it. I don't know when that is. To be honest, I hope it is not very soon but I can tell you that the church is waiting anxiously for your return so don't let ANY man reject you or make you jump through hoops. There is no membership fee, no initiation process, no medical exam and no sales person will visit. There is instead an unconditional, perpetually open-ended invitation to join.)
What makes shame so beautiful - the only way it can be beautiful - is when it is taken away. It brings much glory. Shame is not relieved when an action is undone or an atoning counter-action is made. Shame is removed when forgiveness arrives and the official, permanent record is torn into 1000 pieces and burned. This is freedom and oh, it tastes sweet.
I posted something four weeks ago ["an exerpt (3)"], cropped from and email, about the difference between guilt and conviction because I am a firm believer that you should not make moral decisions, act kindly to your brother, worship or evangelize out of guilt because you "know it is right." These things should be done out of something similar to love or selflessness. I enjoy making absolute statements (or more accurately, fine-tuning statements into absolution) and I also enjoy find exceptions to every/any rule. While sitting in my Physics class last week, I tried to think of something that would be rightly motivated by guilt. My instinct was to say "nothing" but that seemed far too trite. My conclsuion was that the only thing that should be motivated by guilt is grace. If you have received divine grace before, you will not let guilt sit for very long before you usher it out with some unconditional forgiveness (or at least you should not let it sit). But, if you have never experienced the "You know what? Forget the dents you put in my car, here's $5000 and a newer car" gift then understand: you will not find yourself trapped in self-loathing, self-pity and self-abuse longer than it takes to say, "God, wipe my slate clean."
I suppose that more guilt makes for more grace and more gratitude but that is a different story for another day.
In my past year, in relationship with Jesus, I have learned many lessons and truths connected to guilt. I love Romans 8:1 that says, "Therefore there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus." In an entry about the PASSION concert in Toronto, I mentioned that Louis Giglio had reminded us that "shame is over with" (shame here I equate with guilt for the sake of argument) and the revelation struck me hard though I know this as a truth. There is something marvellous about shame - as in it makes me marvel - where it can take over your whole being and turn you into a very sorry and sad creature. Many men on Earth walk in shame, some are aware of it, others are not yet so, because inherently we know when something has gone wrong in our lives. You might love pornography and feel great when you access it but, at some point, you will feel dirty and regretful beyond belief, left only with the options of denial, self-pity or more pornography - or perhaps all three combined. Some of us become ashamed of our arrogance or pride when we realize that we are utterly alone because of how much we boast. Some are shamed by a choice to reject the chuch (in whatever sense you recognize that), with the desire to return marred by the assurance that they blew their chances BIG TIME. (For the record, the deadline for getting right with the church - in the Body-of-Christ sense; it's not a building - is the end of life on earth as we know it. I don't know when that is. To be honest, I hope it is not very soon but I can tell you that the church is waiting anxiously for your return so don't let ANY man reject you or make you jump through hoops. There is no membership fee, no initiation process, no medical exam and no sales person will visit. There is instead an unconditional, perpetually open-ended invitation to join.)
What makes shame so beautiful - the only way it can be beautiful - is when it is taken away. It brings much glory. Shame is not relieved when an action is undone or an atoning counter-action is made. Shame is removed when forgiveness arrives and the official, permanent record is torn into 1000 pieces and burned. This is freedom and oh, it tastes sweet.
I posted something four weeks ago ["an exerpt (3)"], cropped from and email, about the difference between guilt and conviction because I am a firm believer that you should not make moral decisions, act kindly to your brother, worship or evangelize out of guilt because you "know it is right." These things should be done out of something similar to love or selflessness. I enjoy making absolute statements (or more accurately, fine-tuning statements into absolution) and I also enjoy find exceptions to every/any rule. While sitting in my Physics class last week, I tried to think of something that would be rightly motivated by guilt. My instinct was to say "nothing" but that seemed far too trite. My conclsuion was that the only thing that should be motivated by guilt is grace. If you have received divine grace before, you will not let guilt sit for very long before you usher it out with some unconditional forgiveness (or at least you should not let it sit). But, if you have never experienced the "You know what? Forget the dents you put in my car, here's $5000 and a newer car" gift then understand: you will not find yourself trapped in self-loathing, self-pity and self-abuse longer than it takes to say, "God, wipe my slate clean."
I suppose that more guilt makes for more grace and more gratitude but that is a different story for another day.
siftingsorting (2)
Here is another something that needs to leave my desktop but this one is actually a word processor document from 29th October, 2005. I saved part of an instant messaging conversation with a friend because she dropped some sage on me that was too incredibly insightful that I needed to preserve it for later digestion. I suppose that makes me something like a cow, re-summoning her cud.
This is it, for all to enjoy...
Myself: [W]e get to a point where all patience is gone and all nerves are tread upon[.]
Her: [Y]es, quite true[.] [M]ethinks my chance to sleep last night ... took care of 1 type of physical need... but, during those times of "fighting exhaustion and still trying to be optimistic", you have a big guard up[.]
Myself: [Y]eh[.]
Her: [W]hen you give in to exhaustion, the guard's done and when the guard's down ..., you're exposed to all the things you haven't been dealing with but have been bouncing off[.]
[sister post: 25/01/06:)]
This is it, for all to enjoy...
Myself: [W]e get to a point where all patience is gone and all nerves are tread upon[.]
Her: [Y]es, quite true[.] [M]ethinks my chance to sleep last night ... took care of 1 type of physical need... but, during those times of "fighting exhaustion and still trying to be optimistic", you have a big guard up[.]
Myself: [Y]eh[.]
Her: [W]hen you give in to exhaustion, the guard's done and when the guard's down ..., you're exposed to all the things you haven't been dealing with but have been bouncing off[.]
[sister post: 25/01/06:)]
Friday, 3 February 2006
The 1950s
I am currently reading a book called "Scrubs on Skates" by Scott Young, published in 1952. I think this book is great for a few reasons I will here list.
-the illustrations involve straight-shouldered, tall, pristine hair-cut-ed boys who actually look like men
-the author's note explains how there are differences between the Canadian and American hockey rules (assumedly because the author follows the Canadian ones and some of his readership might follow the American)
-I found this book while researching for a music history class (E.T.A. Hoffman was both a musician/musical critic and an author)
-the language (reminiscent of American Graffiti where Ron Howard's character's big dis to the principal was, "Go kiss a duck!") is absurdly tame and makes me laugh (from our perspective, people in the 1950s seemed a bit repressed)
Here is the line that promped me to write about this book which is actually quite engaging and I have difficulty putting down:
"But Wong and Kryschuk, they were quiet kids, wouldn't say boo to a goose. . . ." (153; Little, Brown and Company, Boston)
I have endless appreciation for the 1950s (and '40s, '30s, etc. but '50s especially) because people had a good sense of propriety. I realize that there was much oppression for women and - in this country - non-Caucasian people in more subtle yet pervasive ways but, on the whole, I appreciate that people still had taste and modesty in terms of how they conducted themselves. I cannot complain that I am a victim of my society and I cannot claim that I am as wholesome as my mid-century predessors were.
-the illustrations involve straight-shouldered, tall, pristine hair-cut-ed boys who actually look like men
-the author's note explains how there are differences between the Canadian and American hockey rules (assumedly because the author follows the Canadian ones and some of his readership might follow the American)
-I found this book while researching for a music history class (E.T.A. Hoffman was both a musician/musical critic and an author)
-the language (reminiscent of American Graffiti where Ron Howard's character's big dis to the principal was, "Go kiss a duck!") is absurdly tame and makes me laugh (from our perspective, people in the 1950s seemed a bit repressed)
Here is the line that promped me to write about this book which is actually quite engaging and I have difficulty putting down:
"But Wong and Kryschuk, they were quiet kids, wouldn't say boo to a goose. . . ." (153; Little, Brown and Company, Boston)
I have endless appreciation for the 1950s (and '40s, '30s, etc. but '50s especially) because people had a good sense of propriety. I realize that there was much oppression for women and - in this country - non-Caucasian people in more subtle yet pervasive ways but, on the whole, I appreciate that people still had taste and modesty in terms of how they conducted themselves. I cannot complain that I am a victim of my society and I cannot claim that I am as wholesome as my mid-century predessors were.
Thursday, 2 February 2006
Groundhog Day 2006
I cannot seem to locate the piece of paper on which I wrote a quotation from Tuesday night's Colbert Report, but it went something like this: "Are you the Jewish crouton on top?" It was hilarious in context but I think it works just fine without.
Last night (Wednesday), Colbert talked with Emily Yoffe of http://www.slate.com/ and he mocked her in a merciless manner, much like he does with most of his guests. When he introduced her, he said she worked for "Slate" and she corrected him by adding the "dot-com" part. He insisted, "So are you saying that if I go to a newstand to look for Slate..." and she interrupted with, "You won't find it there. It's on the Internet." After a beat, Colbert asks in the most serious & deliberate way, "When did Slate go out of business?" (ha ha ha)
Before he had actually introduced her, he opened his lunchbox (the workman's version, metal and all) and pulled out a 500mL carton of milk. [I think this entire episode was dedicated to the working man. He even pointed out his blue collar.] In a vague effort to explain his actions he said, "I hope you don't mind: I'm on my break." Ahh, so insulting, I love it. He struggled with the carton for a while, unable to open it and so he passes it to Yoffe who does the trick in about 5 seconds. He takes a drink and makes a big deal about how lovely it is. Then he declares, "Nothing is more refreshing after thirty minutes of talking than a dairy product."
Last week, Colbert's main guest was Nina Totenberg (a National Public Radio correspondent) and I have a few quotations from his conversation with her but I do not remember the context for any of them. [Before I share those, I must let you know that Colbert does not like bears and he says they are a threat to America.]
(1) "Sharing is caring. [beat] It's true because it rhymes."
(2) Colbert: I'm not a fan of men with beards.
Totenberg: You've never had a beard?
Colbert: I get kinda patchy. It comes in here [pointing to sideburns] then thins out [tracing jawline] and ends up all right here [indicating very central chin]. It has a sort of billy goat effect.
Totenberg: So you look kinda like a bear.
[Colbert reacted by staring at her (fighting a smile), and giving a bit of the evil eye as the audience "ooooooooh"-ed. It was a truly magical moment and I enjoyed it thoroughly.]
(3) Somewheres in this episode we hear about "Sir Phillip Garbagescowl".
This quotation is from his interview with the congressman of the state that he was honoring on that episode (name of place or man I do not recall). During these interviews (I have seen at least one other, perhaps two), he is as subversive and mildly insulting to congressmen as he is with studio guests but when he is with these politicians, he does not let on that he is joking around and there is no audience to laugh and show that such is the case. Generally, he will accuse people of accepting bribes or any kind of corruption and act dumb hearing their response, twisting their words, etc. This congressman in particular seemed a bit ticked off by Colbert's antics and when he was done he ended - in the perfect way, in my opinion - with this:
Colbert: Congressman [even tone, as if he is about to say, "Thanks for your time"], may I stroke your moustache?
[Congressman]: No.
Colbert: Can I comb it?
[Congressman]: [nods]
[Colbert pulls out a small plastic comb (like something you would use on a My Little Pony doll) and passes the bristles through the other man's facial hair a couple of times and then sits back (supremely satisfied) and thanks him for the interview.]
There are more Colb quotations to come but right now I need to sleep or something.
Last night (Wednesday), Colbert talked with Emily Yoffe of http://www.slate.com/ and he mocked her in a merciless manner, much like he does with most of his guests. When he introduced her, he said she worked for "Slate" and she corrected him by adding the "dot-com" part. He insisted, "So are you saying that if I go to a newstand to look for Slate..." and she interrupted with, "You won't find it there. It's on the Internet." After a beat, Colbert asks in the most serious & deliberate way, "When did Slate go out of business?" (ha ha ha)
Before he had actually introduced her, he opened his lunchbox (the workman's version, metal and all) and pulled out a 500mL carton of milk. [I think this entire episode was dedicated to the working man. He even pointed out his blue collar.] In a vague effort to explain his actions he said, "I hope you don't mind: I'm on my break." Ahh, so insulting, I love it. He struggled with the carton for a while, unable to open it and so he passes it to Yoffe who does the trick in about 5 seconds. He takes a drink and makes a big deal about how lovely it is. Then he declares, "Nothing is more refreshing after thirty minutes of talking than a dairy product."
Last week, Colbert's main guest was Nina Totenberg (a National Public Radio correspondent) and I have a few quotations from his conversation with her but I do not remember the context for any of them. [Before I share those, I must let you know that Colbert does not like bears and he says they are a threat to America.]
(1) "Sharing is caring. [beat] It's true because it rhymes."
(2) Colbert: I'm not a fan of men with beards.
Totenberg: You've never had a beard?
Colbert: I get kinda patchy. It comes in here [pointing to sideburns] then thins out [tracing jawline] and ends up all right here [indicating very central chin]. It has a sort of billy goat effect.
Totenberg: So you look kinda like a bear.
[Colbert reacted by staring at her (fighting a smile), and giving a bit of the evil eye as the audience "ooooooooh"-ed. It was a truly magical moment and I enjoyed it thoroughly.]
(3) Somewheres in this episode we hear about "Sir Phillip Garbagescowl".
This quotation is from his interview with the congressman of the state that he was honoring on that episode (name of place or man I do not recall). During these interviews (I have seen at least one other, perhaps two), he is as subversive and mildly insulting to congressmen as he is with studio guests but when he is with these politicians, he does not let on that he is joking around and there is no audience to laugh and show that such is the case. Generally, he will accuse people of accepting bribes or any kind of corruption and act dumb hearing their response, twisting their words, etc. This congressman in particular seemed a bit ticked off by Colbert's antics and when he was done he ended - in the perfect way, in my opinion - with this:
Colbert: Congressman [even tone, as if he is about to say, "Thanks for your time"], may I stroke your moustache?
[Congressman]: No.
Colbert: Can I comb it?
[Congressman]: [nods]
[Colbert pulls out a small plastic comb (like something you would use on a My Little Pony doll) and passes the bristles through the other man's facial hair a couple of times and then sits back (supremely satisfied) and thanks him for the interview.]
There are more Colb quotations to come but right now I need to sleep or something.
Wednesday, 1 February 2006
about to implode
Princess Jasmine says: "How dare you, all of you ... Standing around, deciding my future?! I am not a prize to be won!"
Voyez-vous les zombies, là
Les zombies et le lougaroue..
In the words of E-17:
Just when you think you've got what it takes to survive,
You see like you need someone else's advice.
You wait for the day, you constantly pray that it comes...
The day when you feel your life turn around just for once.
ggg
gg
ggg g g
Voyez-vous les zombies, là
Les zombies et le lougaroue..
In the words of E-17:
Just when you think you've got what it takes to survive,
You see like you need someone else's advice.
You wait for the day, you constantly pray that it comes...
The day when you feel your life turn around just for once.
ggg
gg
ggg g g
Thursday, 26 January 2006
frayed wires
There is a glitch in the system. I am finding an inaccurate/illogical connection between L and E that results in some pretty ugly & depressing feelings.
I see and I do not understand. I observe but I am not pleased.
Perhaps I lean too heavily on L (my favorite - it works!), so much so that I do not know how to work with E. I am not very fluent in its language though we can get by for day-to-day communication. Now, I find myself immersed.
I find that something around here smells uncannily like rejection. No, worse - it smells like apathy. I cannot handle this. My reaction is to run in the other direction promising, "I shall never return or even look back." The know-it-alls in the back of my head offer, "You say that every time.." ... and then I turn around when things look OK. I often say I will never allow myself to become involved/attached to the same degree so that I can get hurt again but, E is too tricky for me and I cannot find L when I need it. L becomes my second language of limited acquaintance.
What do I do now? There is nothing good that I can do/seek out by means of a remedy. I feel rejected by everyone but I know the most important Person has accepted me and this should be enough. E... you lie.
What can I say? For serious... I think that the "I want to crawl into a hole and hide from the world" theory is
I can't talk. I don't want sympathy. I can't hide, I can't go through the motions. Je suis stuck.
...the theory sounds like poppycock but right now it is a PERFECT fit.
I see and I do not understand. I observe but I am not pleased.
Perhaps I lean too heavily on L (my favorite - it works!), so much so that I do not know how to work with E. I am not very fluent in its language though we can get by for day-to-day communication. Now, I find myself immersed.
I find that something around here smells uncannily like rejection. No, worse - it smells like apathy. I cannot handle this. My reaction is to run in the other direction promising, "I shall never return or even look back." The know-it-alls in the back of my head offer, "You say that every time.." ... and then I turn around when things look OK. I often say I will never allow myself to become involved/attached to the same degree so that I can get hurt again but, E is too tricky for me and I cannot find L when I need it. L becomes my second language of limited acquaintance.
What do I do now? There is nothing good that I can do/seek out by means of a remedy. I feel rejected by everyone but I know the most important Person has accepted me and this should be enough. E... you lie.
What can I say? For serious... I think that the "I want to crawl into a hole and hide from the world" theory is
I can't talk. I don't want sympathy. I can't hide, I can't go through the motions. Je suis stuck.
...the theory sounds like poppycock but right now it is a PERFECT fit.
Wednesday, 25 January 2006
siftingsorting
I am trying to clean up my life (in a very literal/physical fashion). Therefore, here I am expanding on these words scrawled on the back of a toy store receipt.
"I found the ugliest one!"
"Where?!"
"All of them." [21/01/06:)]
My grandmother and I were working on a puzzle that depticted about 15 nutcrackers (all very different) on a wooden shelving unit. There were three rows of them and and one oversized ("massively scary" is how I describe it) one at the forefront, stealing the show. I chose the puzzle (from about 10 - 12 options) because I found it (a) relatively easy [she has this crazy 500-piece "Hay in a Needle-stack" one that has been around for years because no one has been daring enough to try it] and (b) supremely ugly. I have a sick fascination for ugly things. I do not want to discuss it because, if I understood it, it would not be so great. During the first two hours that we worked we discussed the puzzle in a very sporadic way and I exclaimed about the ugliness as much as possible because I found it both overwhelming and excessively humorous. She either laughed or made some non-commital response but never actually agreed. After a while, we stopped talking about other things in life and about the puzzle and we worked like dogs (the working kind). Out of the blizzle-oo, my Nana says, "I found the ugliest one!" quite quickly but not exactly triumphantly. I exploded with surprize - partly because it had broken the silence - largely because grandmothers do not say things like this. Grandmothers never use derogatory words like "ugly"; they are reserved for callous young jerks like myself. I use the word "just" too much. Anyways, after I had recovered from the shock and stopped my almost nervous giggling, I said, "Where?" because I was genuinely excited to see who she had given the crown to. With the kind of overlap you usually get when someone is "admitting" defeat - i.e. the "Are you sure you don't want t--" / "FINE: I'll do it.." scenario - she busted in with, "All of them," and I simply lost it. Oh, the hilarity. OK, firstly, that does not even make sense. Secondly, it seemed like she had planned that response OR that she was acting like she had planned the response when she clearly had not in a sort of "YES. I WAS PLANNING THAT ALL ALONG (but I really I wasn't)" stage whisper kind of way. Thirdly, if she meant it precisely the way it came out - planned or not - that is pure comedic gold (good formula). And finally, her tone smacked of (mock) disgust/resignation in the same way that a hurried "It-was-terrible" response comes on the heels of "How was your day?", quite abruptly telling all (sounding like there is simply too much to tell) and effectively killing the subject ("... and I don't wanna talk about it."). In that moment, my grandmother reminded me very much of a Montreal Project Guelphite friend of mind, so much so that I was like... having conniptions. Serious. I get a kick out of people who make their living selling my brand of humor. I could put their kids through college.
Go to bed.
"I found the ugliest one!"
"Where?!"
"All of them." [21/01/06:)]
My grandmother and I were working on a puzzle that depticted about 15 nutcrackers (all very different) on a wooden shelving unit. There were three rows of them and and one oversized ("massively scary" is how I describe it) one at the forefront, stealing the show. I chose the puzzle (from about 10 - 12 options) because I found it (a) relatively easy [she has this crazy 500-piece "Hay in a Needle-stack" one that has been around for years because no one has been daring enough to try it] and (b) supremely ugly. I have a sick fascination for ugly things. I do not want to discuss it because, if I understood it, it would not be so great. During the first two hours that we worked we discussed the puzzle in a very sporadic way and I exclaimed about the ugliness as much as possible because I found it both overwhelming and excessively humorous. She either laughed or made some non-commital response but never actually agreed. After a while, we stopped talking about other things in life and about the puzzle and we worked like dogs (the working kind). Out of the blizzle-oo, my Nana says, "I found the ugliest one!" quite quickly but not exactly triumphantly. I exploded with surprize - partly because it had broken the silence - largely because grandmothers do not say things like this. Grandmothers never use derogatory words like "ugly"; they are reserved for callous young jerks like myself. I use the word "just" too much. Anyways, after I had recovered from the shock and stopped my almost nervous giggling, I said, "Where?" because I was genuinely excited to see who she had given the crown to. With the kind of overlap you usually get when someone is "admitting" defeat - i.e. the "Are you sure you don't want t--" / "FINE: I'll do it.." scenario - she busted in with, "All of them," and I simply lost it. Oh, the hilarity. OK, firstly, that does not even make sense. Secondly, it seemed like she had planned that response OR that she was acting like she had planned the response when she clearly had not in a sort of "YES. I WAS PLANNING THAT ALL ALONG (but I really I wasn't)" stage whisper kind of way. Thirdly, if she meant it precisely the way it came out - planned or not - that is pure comedic gold (good formula). And finally, her tone smacked of (mock) disgust/resignation in the same way that a hurried "It-was-terrible" response comes on the heels of "How was your day?", quite abruptly telling all (sounding like there is simply too much to tell) and effectively killing the subject ("... and I don't wanna talk about it."). In that moment, my grandmother reminded me very much of a Montreal Project Guelphite friend of mind, so much so that I was like... having conniptions. Serious. I get a kick out of people who make their living selling my brand of humor. I could put their kids through college.
Go to bed.
Tuesday, 24 January 2006
reminded
How are we - mere mortals and ambassadors of Christ - supposed to compete with the forces of evil? This is the most unfair fight in the history of time. You might not even call it a "fight" but a "whoopin" or something. The knowledge that a loss (before the first round is out) is certain makes me uneasy and queasy about the subject. Realistically, Satan never had a chance.
Monday, 23 January 2006
observing: music
Chris Tomlin makes a beautiful marriage of consonance. This is what I have discovered having listened to one of his discs fairly often in the past month or so.
I find something disturbingly euphoric in the way he presents his music.
I find something disturbingly euphoric in the way he presents his music.
Saturday, 21 January 2006
Wednesday, 18 January 2006
crap and the big C
I think my life is dying in the wilderness. I think I do not know what I am doing. Sometimes I think I am illiterate because I have made at least one mistake in each of the three sentences I just typed.
Here is what Stephen Colbert had to say this evening...
He was talking about a law in Oregon that says doctors who allow patients to die (on their request) are not performing illegal activity and how disgusted he was with this acceptance of assisted suicide. He says, "If God wanted people to die, He would send ... bloodclots. I know these are people with terminal illnesses but, as Jesus said, 'walk it off.'"
I fell off the couch when I heard this, mostly out of shock but partially because I could not deal with the hilarity. I should be doing schoolwork right now but my motivation died like my childhood spirit. I'm just kidding. I never had a childhood spirit. Anyways, Colby's kinda funny and kinda sketchy. I appreciate that quote, though because, well, that's basically the way these Biblical accounts appear to us (or perhaps just me). "What's that? You have been crippled since birth? Ah, don't let that bother you. Just stand up and take a stroll around the room, get that blood flowing and those muscles working..." Something about the paltry capacity of the human brain to understand the simplest miracles of the Living God is delightfully amazing to me. Thanks, Colb, for drawing me into reverence again.
Here is what Stephen Colbert had to say this evening...
He was talking about a law in Oregon that says doctors who allow patients to die (on their request) are not performing illegal activity and how disgusted he was with this acceptance of assisted suicide. He says, "If God wanted people to die, He would send ... bloodclots. I know these are people with terminal illnesses but, as Jesus said, 'walk it off.'"
I fell off the couch when I heard this, mostly out of shock but partially because I could not deal with the hilarity. I should be doing schoolwork right now but my motivation died like my childhood spirit. I'm just kidding. I never had a childhood spirit. Anyways, Colby's kinda funny and kinda sketchy. I appreciate that quote, though because, well, that's basically the way these Biblical accounts appear to us (or perhaps just me). "What's that? You have been crippled since birth? Ah, don't let that bother you. Just stand up and take a stroll around the room, get that blood flowing and those muscles working..." Something about the paltry capacity of the human brain to understand the simplest miracles of the Living God is delightfully amazing to me. Thanks, Colb, for drawing me into reverence again.
Sunday, 15 January 2006
a question pseudo answered
I have often wondered if God created us to appreciate beauty or if beauty simply is what it is and we have no choice but to apprecite it. Watching March of the Penguins this evening, I wondered, why did God make these things so beautiful and I remembered Psalm 19:1 -- The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. These things are beautiful because they reflect God's beauty.
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