The Wildwood Castle

Revisit

2010-04-26T08:42:00.000-07:00

I decided to revisit a post I stumbled upon a few days ago that I wrote a couple years back. I think it inspired me to continue exposing myself to accessible art when given the opportunity. If nothing other than for art's sake.

If you live near Forth Worth, Texas, I recommend visiting the current exhibit of Ron Mueck's hyperrealist sculptures of larger (and smaller) than life human beings.

The Human Torch and I went to the Modern Art Museum last Wednesday to experience the awe and eeriness of these plaster and silicone forms that, at different times, exude a quality so life-like that you think one will look you in the eye and tell you to stop staring at their privates. Reminiscent of entering a minimalistic wax-museum, Mueck's exhibit is actually more masterful and detailed than any wax creation I've ever seen. Any other time I have seen a realistic representation of human beings, I have always had to willingly suspend my disbelief, kind of like watching a ventriloquist with his puppet. You know that it isn't real so you must decide that you're going to allow this dummy to tell corny jokes. Mueck is different. Standing an inch from a fifteen-foot, giant mountain man, the spectator realizes that Mueck has paid attention to every detail, including goose bumps, honey-combed skin from chilling temperatures, and dirt under the fingernails. I'll stop writing...here are some pictures:

This last one is called Spooning Couple. They were my favorite. At about a foot long, even the smallest detail was intact. What was so interesting about this couple, aesthetically, was the stubble on the man's face and the glimmer in each of their eyes. I tried to get in the eyeline of each sculpture to see if it made a difference in how I viewed them - how I interpreted their emotions. This couple was the most impacting. I felt creepy, as if this guy was going to stand up and punch me in the nostril with his little fist for busting into his bedroom with his bedmate half-naked. I caught his eye and I saw a shimmer, the beginnings of a glass tear forming into a drop the size of a molecule on his apathetic face. Then again, I knew he was completely unaware that I was inspecting his seasoned boredom.

The old women directly above the spooning couple were about two feet tall. One's first instinct is to hold them and tell them they are cute and whatever is in the process of causing them stress is going to be alright. I think Mueck wants the viewer to get a sense of feux God-likeness.

When I was a child, I would pray every night that God would make my stuffed animals come to life. That's the one thing I wanted. I felt a desire rising in me again that if only these little humans were actually alive, I might be able to save them, rescue them, comfort them. As if size actually determines divinity. Then Mueck plays a mean joke - the sculptures don't come to life. You must leave them to sit, being stared at by other people who think they might get the chance to be gods or goddesses, only to realize that their own frail existence is not so much stronger than the three-foot dead man lying naked on the floor.

Here are some other pictures from the Modern:

Martin Puryear Ladder for Booker T. Washington, 1996

Barnaby Furnas The Other Way, 2007

A large iron sculpture on the MAM grounds.

The Human Torch and me.

Dominos Isn't Just a Game of Wooden Bricks

2010-01-18T20:34:00.000-08:00

There was a guy named Aaron at my high school who was four years older than me and from the age of fourteen spent every year attempting to grow some genre of facial hair which only spurted out in sporadic, light-colored electrical wires across his chin and upper lip. Even though Aaron entertained himself by picking on younger pupils and hanging around the high school for years after graduation, his primary occupation was basketball. And while I couldn't tell you one memory of how his skills actually panned out on the court, the one thing I will always remember was that he nicknamed himself the "Pizza Man." Because he delivered. I'm not kidding - he responded every time with that quip when asked why he called himself the Pizza Man. Although, in the same sad trajectory of every self-induced-moniker story, the Pizza Man was only known to himself as such...everyone else just called him Aaron.

In order to eat and pay bills I've been working two jobs, the first as a substitute teacher for Austin ISD and the second as a pizza delivery man. Giving people fat pies for money is an unusually good-paying job for downtown Austin (and the surrounding neighborhoods). I actually really enjoy it and there are always interesting stories that come along with the driving around.

Just the other day I delivered a pie to a man at 2:00 am. He opened the door wearing black manties and a silk robe draped open. It's not uncommon for people to come to the door without dressing themselves first, especially in Waco where I delivered about six years ago. Waco is a terrible place to deliver pizzas because no one tips, you fear being assaulted about eighty-five percent of the time, and all the naked people that come to the door are fat. Not in Austin. It's one of the fittest cities in America.

In Austin, while out and about and taking pizzas to friendly homes, I'm not surprised to see a jogger pass by while pushing a $2000 Bugaboo baby jogging stroller. In Waco, a common occurrence would be seeing a 26 year-old man sprinting down a dark alley while shaking a handgun and screaming, "Get the f--- out of my way!!!"

Here in the capitol I wouldn't put it past anyone to try and give me a tip in Whole Foods gift cards or tickets to a UT football game. In Waco, the most valuable tip imaginable is a small plastic bag of funny-smelling grass "to make the pizza taste better."

You can say I'm looking forward to plenty more experiences as a pizza delivery expert. But from now on I demand only one thing: that you call me Pizza Man. Because I deliver.

Eric Clapton

2009-12-06T16:27:00.000-08:00

Last night I had a dream that Eric Clapton was playing some music at a church. Apparently he was a closet believer in Jesus who had decided to write instrumental sacred songs and share them with my friends.

At one point he was playing the harmonica with his right hand and simultaneously, only in the magic of dream world, playing an intricate melody with his left hand on the guitar's neck.

I was mesmerized. And now I am listening to Eric.

Up...date

2009-06-14T20:19:00.000-07:00

I don’t even know if people read this blog. Here are some updates to kick start my blog again after my recent arrival to the States, in case anyone's interested.

- I flew into Little Rock on May 21st where I surprised my family after an eight month stint working in the Middle East. We had a good time and the Jaksha’s took some pictures. The next day was my sister's graduation.

- After about four days, I transferred back down to Waco where I’ve been adjusting to a culture difference. I wouldn’t say it’s culture shock. I’ve heard stories about true culture shock…stories of visitors to other countries losing their mind and walking into the ocean wearing all their clothes, forgetting they were at the beach. I’ve heard other stories of people breaking down in Wal-Mart upon returning from a slightly less glamorous country than America and weeping because they weren’t used to having “so many choices”. Really? My Australian friend I lived with the past eight months said, “Culture shock is something you go through when you think your culture is better than everyone else’s.” Ha.

- I got a part time job. There is a middle-aged man at my church who has Bible study notes from the past thirty years, all handwritten, that he hired me to transcribe to a digital format. My office is wherever I want it to be. This is nice.

- In August I plan to move south to Austin, Texas. Over the next year I will complete my degree at the Texas State University in San Marcos, a BFA in Theatre Performance and Production. I’m really excited about finishing and getting the opportunity to spend time with fellow Theatre majors again.

- My new phone is a Samsung Jack. If you want the number, leave me a comment and I’ll email it to you or something.

- I think this is the happiest I’ve ever been. Not because my circumstances are strikingly different than before I moved overseas, but because my heart is different. I have never been at more peace about the reality of God’s provision and goodness. It is impossible to embellish his loving thoughts toward us because his loving thoughts are infinite and perfect.

Attachment to Captors

2009-05-19T10:44:00.000-07:00

I've been a fan of Derek Webb for a long time. I recently found out about the controversy surrounding his latest album, set to release this month, entitled Stockholm Syndrome. Webb has never been one to avoid controversy, being one of the only voices in the CCM industry who refuses to be boxed in by the too-often prosaic standards of Christian music – music that usually tends to be a recipe of regurgitated messages and mere reactions to the “culture war” that so many well-meaning evangelicals actually believe exists.

I found myself connecting years ago with the piercing and brutal themes of his songs that never shied away from providing an honest commentary of how Christians live their lives. Derek has consistently adhered to a standard of artful and influential musical designs that the secular industry has picked up and also critically acclaimed. For those who don’t know, Webb is a former band member of Caedmon’s Call and the first time I heard his solo work was the song "Wedding Dress." This song caused a stir in the Christian retail business because in it, Webb describes the awful reality of the adulterous nature of believers as we go to other things for fulfillment outside of Jesus. He actually wrote that song as a response to hearing Bruce Wilkinson plug his then-new book The Prayer of Jabez. Derek continued to be on his label’s naughty list as he kept including controversial lyrics within his music, using strong language and commentaries on politics, social justice and the watered-down worldview of mainstream Christianity.

His desire to see the music industry transformed by using strategies which don’t compromise the singer/songwriter’s artistry and financial integrity, and his frank approach of asking the tough questions to a religious audience that usually opt for passive-aggressive dialogue (if there is such a thing), has personally been an inspiration to my growth as a believer and iconophile (re: Gene Edward Veith’s definition).

Anyway, I thought I would point out the latest controversy and, I think, intentional promotion of his new album that hasn’t been released do to an apparent conflict with his label. His first email posted on his website ended up including a code to another website called: www.paradiseisaparkinglot.com which includes the directions of how the album will be released. I recommend going to his official website and then visiting the latter.

I’m excited about this new album and hope that the CCM industry can realize that culture will never be rightly influenced by poor quality and reactionary moralism, but by humble excellence seeking to speak into culture by exposing misguided direction and debilitating hypocrisy. If you don’t know what I mean by that, then pick up any Derek Webb album…

Thanks

2009-04-26T06:19:00.000-07:00

But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumph in Christ, and manifests through us the sweet aroma of the knowledge of Him in every place.

2 Corinthians 2:14

These Are the Same, Really.

2009-04-20T07:03:00.000-07:00

Idea of "These are the same, really" courtesy of JJ.

These are the same.....really:

C-O-N-T-E-X-T-U-A-L-I-Z-A-T-I-O-N

2009-03-31T05:17:00.000-07:00

Today I administered the midterm exams for the English class that I teach of eleven Arab students.

The exam began with me reading out a dictation that they were to accurately transcribe followed by a short spelling test.

When I got to the spelling test, I would say the word twice and then a sentence that included the word. For example, "TROUSERS...TROUSERS. Mohammed has new TROUSERS."

While stressing to articulate all of these words and sentences in my serious, dramatic "announcer voice", I finally got to the word MODEL. Because of the way my mind works, the following came out:

"MODEL...MODEL. I'm a model, if you know what I mean!"

They all, in unison, replied to my statement with nothing but blank stares, wondering why I was leaning back against the wall laughing with my face in my hands.

Time With Friends

2009-02-14T10:36:00.000-08:00

"His choice had been to stay in the deep dark water far out beyond all snares and traps and treacheries. My choice was to go there to find him beyond all people. Beyond all people in the world. Now we are joined together and have been since noon. And no one to help either one of us."

" 'Stay at my house if you like, bird,' he said. 'I am sorry I cannot hoist the sail and take you in with the small breeze that is rising. But I am with a friend.' "

" 'But man is not made for defeat,' he said. 'A man can be destroyed but not defeated.' "

"It was considered a virtue not to talk at sea and the old man had always considered it so and respected it."

"I had better keep the fish quiet now and not disturb him too much at sunset. The setting of the sun is a difficult time for all fish."

The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway

The Cotton Jones Basket Ride

2009-02-08T10:01:00.000-08:00

Recently stumbled across these guys. They make neat music:

The Cotton Jones Basket Ride or Cotton Jones

Ode to Sam Cooke

2009-02-07T04:21:00.000-08:00

I don't know much. I don't know much about anything, but I do love to learn. And if there is one thing that I don't know much about, it's money. But if there is one thing that I don't like to learn about, it's money.
- this is ironic -
Because for one year I worked as an administrative assistant to a pension provider firm and for two years after that I worked as an accounting assistant for a non-profit organization. During this time, I learned more about money than I ever wanted to and having now left from the most recent position, I still feel like a small child trying to figure out the purpose of a piggy bank.

Needless to say, I've been really confused over the global, specifically American, economic crisis. I don't know about anyone else, but the more I read about it and watch the news and study this article and listen to that financial guru, I find myself being able to mimic ideas and accusations without actually having any more explanation than when I began. And if you know me, you know I don't like just mimicking - I want to know the truth...or at least learn something in pursuit of it. It goes without saying, of course, that this whole crisis is complex and that keeps people from really being able to convey every detail of the "perfect storm."

Well, I recently ran across a comprehensive entry on the financial crisis that I found on FactCheck.org. I heard about FactCheck on the Laura Ingraham Show a long time ago and starting using it as one of my current events "sources". It claims to be a nonpartisan organization designed around the goal of holding politicians accountable for the things they say. FC seems to reward the skeptic, the one who refuses to be boxed in by labels and agendas and would rather know the truth than manufactured dogmatism that stokes the fire of rigidity. Whatever...

Anyway, I thought I would post the link for others out there who are like me and just want to know more about what specific events led to the breakdown. I could share more of my thoughts about the spiritual aspect of all this and how sin naturally leads to consequences or how this is a big opportunity to see Jesus more clearly, but I won't. Maybe later.

Here's the link called Who Caused the Economic Crisis. Scroll down to "The Real Deal" where they provide some insight and links to their sources. I'm sure FC's take on this isn't perfect and I haven't finished reading all the links (don't think I will either) but I thought I would point to a helpful resource that gives some information.

Hope it helps.

White People

2009-01-29T23:46:00.000-08:00

Around nine months ago my friend Britt showed me the website, "Stuff White People Like".

Straying from the cliché lampooning of southern, hick sub-culture or the obvious suburban, soccer-mom Arcadia, SWPL is a satirical blog that pokes fun at upper middle-class, left-leaning, artsy yuppies. It's pretty darn funny and also a little painful, because there are a few entry topics that I definitely espouse - even though I'm not sure my motivations would always line up with his critique. For a lot of them, I am glad I can say I don't really understand or at least can't personally relate to (such as the sea salt entry - I have never bought sea salt and I don't understand why people do, but I definitely know people that love it), which I guess is a reflection of my upbringing. I think Baylor University (Donny Dallas) with a few more liberals is a good picture of the people that are described in the blog. Regardless, it's nice to take a bite of humble pie and laugh at those who usually can't laugh at themselves as creator Christian Lander imposes self-awareness on certain cliques of individuals.

I did receive an email a while back from Lander when I wrote him suggesting that he do an entry on Che Guevara. This was his response:

Don't worry. Covered in the book. I say that most white people think Che was invented by the same guys who did Obey Giant.

Here is a CNN article on his new book and an interview with the author.

And here some entries I thought were funny:

Being offended

Making you feel bad about not going outside

Being an expert on your culture

Having gay friends

Expensive sandwiches

Frisbee sports

Black music that black people don't listen to anymore

Breaking Faith

2009-01-23T08:01:00.000-08:00

Bastard.

Commodity, the bias of the world;
The world, who of itself is peized well,
Made to run even upon even ground,
Till this advantage, this vile-drawing bias,
This sway of motion, this Commodity,
Makes it take head from all indifferency,
From all direction, purpose, course, intent:
And this same bias, this Commodity,
This bawd, this broker, this all-changing word,
Clapp'd on the outward eye of fickle France,
Hath drawn him from his own determin'd aid,
From a resolv'd and honourable war,
To a most base and vile-concluded peace.
And why rail I on this Commodity?
But for because he hath not woo'd me yet.
Now that I have the power to clutch my hand
When his fair angels would salute my palm;
But for my hand, as unattempted yet,
Like a poor beggar, raileth on the rich.
Well, whiles I am a beggar, I will rail,
And say there is no vice but beggary.
Since kings break faith upon Commodity,
Gain, be my lord, for I will worship thee!

~

The Bastard
ii, I, 574 - 598

The Life and Death of King John by William Shakespeare

New Mercies

2009-01-20T04:14:00.000-08:00

Today America gets a new president. I’ve made the necessary preparations, like making sure the generator works and calculating the time zone difference, in order to watch the historical inauguration of Barack Hussein Obama II to the office of President of the United States of America.

I look back at the past few years of following Obama’s campaign and remember the moments of his journey, from the arrival into the party nomination playing field, controversy surrounding…well - lot of things, and his exciting election as our next president.

For the first time in my life, I can look back at my journey and remember my integral involvement throughout a presidential campaign. I remember the first time I heard about Obama in the fall of 2006, before it was cool to talk about him; I remember researching his policies and going to hear him speak in Austin, Texas, and finding out that I was in a picture on CNN.com:

I recall the debates I overheard with people surrounding his policies and character, the information I learned from researching both sides of the political machine, Mike Huckabee’s random success as a potential Republican nominee, and those mornings where I gave it all up in frustration and just talked to God about politics. And how could I forget the March 4th Texas Two-Step when I was elected Permanent Precinct Chair and interviewed on Channel 11 News? Having a president elected for whose campaign you worked is a thrill that few enjoy. The incredible election of the first black president on November 4th of last year is a moment where I will always be able to look back and remember where I was standing.

Today I am excited for America and for Barack Obama. I’m anticipating Obama completing the proposals he sets out to accomplish and I’m prepared to protest his plans that I vehemently disagree with. But with all the hype (some appropriate and some ridiculous) surrounding this inauguration, this post is not about Obama…

My true reason for posting today is to honor our exiting president, George W. Bush. I’m not going to say much about this problem or that controversy, or the headlines here and the blind hyperbole there. What I want to highlight is that President Bush was a man who remained steadfast to the things he believed in, which is a value lacking in American culture and future generations. He wasn’t swayed by the headlines and refused to change his mind by giving in to the demands of popularity polls.

Now some would say that’s a weakness, a blind pride that won’t admit when it’s wrong. My response to that is, wait and see. There are some “historians” claiming that Bush is the worst president in history, but to his defense, true historians are ones that wait for history to be made before they judge it. Even though it’s possible to see now the consequences for poor decision-making, I think history will show whether Bush made the right decisions for the policies for which he was so acutely criticized.

It's in the American spirit to bid farewell, to say "goodbye" and release our predecessors with the right response to eight years of tremendously difficult work. So farewell, George W. Bush. As you make your exit, I'm sure you're looking forward to the peace of knowing that you did not falter - more than any of us can ever imagine.

For this upcoming presidential term, the definition of hope should be defined by those who evaluate the past with a teachable mind and a humble attitude, who are willing to hold fast to what they believe in the face adversity and acknowledge tomorrow as an opportunity for new mercies.

In a World Absent Deus Ex Machina

2009-01-16T06:58:00.000-08:00

"I wonder, do the gods know what it's like to be a man?

The Fox

****************

"Often when he was teaching me to write in Greek the Fox would say, 'Child, to say the very things you really mean, the whole of it, nothing more or less or other than what you really mean; that's the whole art and joy of words.' A glib saying. When the time comes to you at which you will be forced at last to utter the speech which has lain at the centre of your soul for years, which you have, all that time, idiot-like, been saying over and over, you'll not talk about the joy of words. I saw well why the gods do not speak to us openly, nor let us answer. Till that word can be dug out of us, why should they hear the babble that we think we mean? How can they meet us face to face till we have faces?"

Orual

Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis

Fleet Street

2009-01-13T11:12:00.000-08:00

Today I got a haircut. I found one of my friends in the market and told him I wanted to get my hair cut (in Arabic, thank you), so he led me – hand in hand – to his favorite barber. I trusted my friend’s referral, so I sat down and let the barber get to work on my scalp. Besides the fact the shears were a little sharper than those safety scissors that toddlers use while training for adulthood, the cut was fine enough and nothing to complain about. But then the shaving occurred. I don’t say that the man “shaved me” or that the shaving “took place” – it just kind of happened…Like the way a child happens to throw a ball through the window or a tornado happens to destroy a trailer park.

He buttered me up with shaving cream and took to my face with a razor blade. At first it was relaxing and I thought how fortunate am I to be having this cultural experience and then when I thought he had finished, more cream was being applied to my face. It was when he began shaving against the grain of my whiskers that I began to worry. The pain was that hot feeling you have on a wound after falling and scraping your knee through gravel and as his blade wiped away the cream by each stroke, I noticed dots of blood forming on my neck. Swipe by swipe, I had this terrible image of Sweeney Todd sadistically carving into my throat in vicious pleasure.

After he had cleaned me up a bit, I grimaced at the bloody streaks and dots in numerous places on my face. It looked as though I was a prepubescent boy just learning how to shave with a real razor.

Sad and in pain, I asked Sweeney in Arabic, “Why did you do this?”

He replied with a chuckle and said something I didn't understand. So I paid him his due wages and left. Later I ran into some friends and told them the story.

They responded: “Ha ha ha! That is the way it is done here. Your skin is too soft, but next time it will be better. By the way, you should wash your face in the ocean to stop the bleeding.”

As I left their presence, I reassured myself, I don’t think there will be a next time.

Sweet Swan of Avon

2008-12-27T08:30:00.000-08:00

Silvia. And duty never yet did want his meed.

Servant, you are welcome to a worthless mistress.

Proteus. I'll die on him that says so but yourself.

Silvia. That you are welcome?

Proteus. That you are worthless.

The Two Gentlemen of Verona by William Shakespeare

ii, IV 113 -116

Minuit, Chrétiens

2008-12-25T11:09:00.000-08:00

Truly He taught us to love one another;
His law is love and His gospel is peace.
Chains shall He break for the slave is our brother;
And in His name all oppression shall cease.
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,
Let all within us praise His holy name.

Christ is the Lord! O praise His Name forever,
His power and glory evermore proclaim.
His power and glory evermore proclaim.

As A Means

2008-12-21T06:58:00.000-08:00

I would like to say that the reason I'm reading more often is because I have an insatiable desire to engage literal allegory and objective critique for the betterment of my intellectual well-being. Even though there may be sprinkles of that reason salting my experience, the truth is I have no other means of entertainment currently with me. And for leaving no other option but to read, I am thankful for the absence of media outlets to otherwise occupy my time. (Does anyone see the irony of this post?)

I have a friend named Andrew that traveled the entirety of Europe several years ago on a self/truth-seeking experiment initiated by his wealthy great uncle. It was Andrew's goal while abroad to read fifty of the considered greatest works of literature ever written (I'm not sure where he got his list from) and he was successful in this goal. While absorbing the literature like a porous blade cutting through steak, he would write down all of his favorite quotes and then bestow the book on some fortunate local to reduce travel weight.

This inspired me, so I've been doing the same with the quotes that mean something important to me, or that I just really enjoy, in the things I read. So I'm going to begin posting some of the quotes and the following is from The Life of Pi by Yann Martel:

"The dorado did a most extraordinary thing as it died: it began to flash all kinds of colors in rapid succession. Blue, green, red, gold and violet flickered and shimmered neon-like on its surface as it struggled. I felt like I was beating a rainbow to death."

- Pi

"To choose doubt as a philosophy of life is akin to choosing immobility as a means of transportation."

- Pi

Taste This

2008-12-16T23:57:00.001-08:00

Because I'm in an isolated location with hardly no one who knows me well, I don't find myself laughing very hard very often. I think most of this has to do with differences in senses of humor and not having those "inside jokes" with friends that you've spent the past several years with.

But there is one thing that I have found recently that does a good job of getting those laughs out of me. And that is this site written by my friend Justin.

New Blog

2008-12-06T04:42:00.000-08:00

I have created a new blog for the company I work for. Check it out here:

Implore the Interposition

2008-11-27T05:36:00.000-08:00

Just because I'm the only American in a foreign land doesn't mean I can't celebrate Thanksgiving. Tonight I am eating dinner with some friends (who don't know anything about this harvest holiday) and they have asked me to share some things about the history of celebrating the last Thursday of November in America. So instead of just spouting out some memorized misinformation that has become like one paragraph in a single chapter of a worn out short story in my brain, I decided to get on Wikipedia (it's quick) and research a little about the first Thanksgiving and Pilgrims and turkey and Squanto. It's really fascinating to re-learn the story. In fact, there were a lot of little things I never knew before. But to get a quality grasp, I had to search through Thanksgiving (USA), Pilgrims, and Puritans.

Anyway, as I was rummaging through the Wikipages, I came across a the text of a proclamation issued by Abraham Lincoln declaring the final Thursday of the month of November of that year as a day of Thanksgiving.

Here is an excerpt:

It has seemed to me fit and proper that they should be solemnly, reverently and gratefully acknowledged as with one heart and voice by the whole American people. I do therefore invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are at sea and those who are sojourning in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next, as a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens. And I recommend to them that while offering up the ascriptions justly due to Him for such singular deliverances and blessings, they do also, with humble penitence for our national perverseness and disobedience, commend to his tender care all those who have become widows, orphans, mourners or sufferers in the lamentable civil strife in which we are unavoidably engaged, and fervently implore the interposition of the Almighty Hand to heal the wounds of the nation and to restore it as soon as may be consistent with the Divine purposes to the full enjoyment of peace, harmony, tranquility and Union.

- Proclamation of President Abraham Lincoln, 3 October 1863

Although it has been a legal holiday since before then, Thanksgiving has been celebrated anually in the United States since 1863.

Happy Thanksgiving

Opus 23

2008-09-18T16:11:00.000-07:00

This is a video set to pianist Dustin O'Halloran's Opus 23. He has been the most frequent subject of my recent listening experiences.

Tall Pike

2008-09-13T11:13:00.000-07:00

I had breakfast with Edgar the other morning. We sat outside at the Starbucks I used to work for that, by they way, doesn’t exist anymore due to a death sentence passed down from corporate in the recent strategic move to “cut back” stores that have been underperforming. My store is the only one that closed in Waco even though, in my opinion, it is their only store that accurately reflects the “third place” vision in this city. I brought some cereal for us to eat, along with some ceramic bowls and mugs because, for environmental reasons, Edgar is pretty passionate about not using the siren-emblazoned paper cups that usually come with a tall Pike. We sat there talking about the presence of God and what it means to accept your acceptability, we laughed about the absurd things we do to try and pay penance for sin that God has forgotten about, and we just sat in silence at times because nothing compares to just sitting with Edgar and the Holy Spirit and eating breakfast together.

At one point Edgar began describing in graphic detail what immense richness of disclosure one experiences at the sight of their child being born. I don’t say “graphic” because it was inappropriate; it was graphic because life is graphic and God is a graphic God who, as Ed put it, “requires blood for the birth of new life.” Ed cried when he talked about this.

I told him that I want to see life in that way – where one moment carries deep truth about our existence and exposes the underlying thread of the universe that God loves people to the point that He became a man and lived with people and loved people, He conquered Death and now wants to walk with us every day. There are a lot of things that Edgar is passionate about that I could write on, such as his involvement with the civil rights movement, or the way he chops up wood during the summer to heat his home in the winter. But what I probably admire most about Edgar is that through experience, not through some guy behind a pulpit telling him, he has discovered that the only true fulfillment to a soul is the presence of our Creator – that upside-down situation involving losing yourself in order to gain Life…we’re not truly full until we’re empty. And Edgar lives it. And I won’t be satisfied unless I live it as well.

Updates

2008-05-22T14:31:00.000-07:00

Blogging took a back seat recently because of some different oxygen bubbles that seemed to creep their way into the cardiovascular system of of my daily life. But extended parenthetical moments in time, moments that are not necessary, but rather benevolently inserted into days, months or weeks, have the potential to be life-changing.

The most recent parenthesis in my life was my trip to Socotra. Socotra was an incredible adventure and seemed very fruitful as an exploratory trip. We'll see what might happen in the future in regards to the island.

I did not get accepted to UT. I applied to attend as a theatre major in fall of this year, kind of thought that I might actually get accepted, and to my disappointment, found out in Yemen that I was not what they were looking for. I'm going to be fine. My life is not my own...or at least I would like it to be that way.

A few days ago The Today Show had a list of the top 100 places to raise a family in the US. To buttress their thesis, they countered their top 100 with a list of the top 10 worst places to raise a family. Here are the results:

The 10 Worst Places to Raise a Family (from best to worst)

10 Springfield, Missouri
9 Dayton, Ohio
8 Corpus Christi, Texas
7 Flint, Michigan — Country's highest violent-crime rate
6 Columbia, South Carolina
5 Waco, Texas
4 Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
3 Fayetteville, North Carolina
2 Beaumont, Texas — Long-standing air-quality challenges
1 Clarksville, Tennessee — Low educational spending: $6,729 per student

Sad...but not that surprising.

Small Town Goodness

2008-03-10T20:51:00.000-07:00

I went to Austin on Saturday with my friend Patrick to see the world premiere of a film at the SXSW Film Festival called Crawford. Patrick grew up in Crawford and knows everyone in the documentary, so he emailed the people running the show last week to see if they could set aside some extra tickets that we could purchase so we wouldn't end up driving down to Austin only to be turned away at the door in case they ran out of space because of the pass holders. Well, Pat got a response from one of the producers saying that they would be honored to have him and that we would be put on a VIP list, enabling us to just show up, hang out with the cast, and meet those involved in making the film. We also were invited to the after-party event where we schmoozed with up-and-coming filmmakers. I had a blast.

The film, overall, was delightful. There were some production mishaps, such as editing mistakes and shots that were out of focus, but for the most part, Director David Modigliani offered an even-handed commentary on how the residents of Crawford, Texas responded to the arrival, hype, and hatred of George W Bush moving in to town. I have been to a premiere before, but never a documentary premiere with the cast in attendance. For me, that provided a cringe/enjoyment factor that the people being interviewed were sitting in the row in front of me. What a great experience.

Thanks to Patrick for inviting me to a wonderful day in Austin and if you ever get the chance to see Crawford, pick it up and take a gander at an accurate account of what lies just beyond the Waco border.

Ouch, Charlie!!

2008-02-28T22:02:00.000-08:00

All Men...

2008-01-21T14:44:00.000-08:00

Glass Microphone

2007-12-22T09:55:00.000-08:00

"Back in the beginning of August, Pickle and the Indians found each other because each of them had a certain stereotyped idea about the other's country. Pickle saw India as filled with impoverished people living on a handful of rice a day. They saw America as prosperous, full of opportunity, and fair. In the end, not only was Pickle wrong about them and their country, but he was wrong about his own country, too, and what he could get away with here. And the Indians, maybe because they were lucky and found all the people who helped them, turns out the Indians were right about America."

I wouldn't think that, with the evolution of technology, radio would still be an effective medium in producing relevant entertainment. This American Life is welcome proof that I am wrong. I encourage you to visit the website below and download the live streaming of "The Competition." It's one of my favorite episodes to date. Ira Glass and his producers create a given episode around a certain theme, which in this episode is competition. The show then breaks down the theme into a certain number of acts, usually two or three, and builds a story for each act that goes along with the theme.

If you don't want to listen to it from a web stream, you can download it from Itunes as a free Podcast. The date of the Podcast should be 11/30/2007. Here is the link. Enjoy.

"The Competition"

Putin on the Ritz

2007-12-20T19:27:00.000-08:00

"TIME's Person of the Year is not and never has been an honor. It is not an endorsement. It is not a popularity contest. At its best, it is a clear-eyed recognition of the world as it is and of the most powerful individuals and forces shaping that world—for better or for worse. It is ultimately about leadership—bold, earth-changing leadership."

Time Magazine on it's decision of who to name Person of the Year

Vladimir Putin was named Time Magazine's 2007 Person of the Year. Lest you be deceived, said heavy-weight title offered by this popular newsgazine is not to be confused with the 2006 movie starring Robin Williams, Man of the Year. You can read the article about this Russian Reformer here, which I find very interesting and well regurgitated from the apparently unsettling experience the reporters had while trying to get Putin to smile. Chilly. The following are factoids (assuming the sources are true) I find to be curiously appealing:

The five individuals competing for POTY were Al Gore (probably too isolated of a movement to be the POTY), JK Rowling (hmmm, I can't imagine anything she does truly fulfilling the quote at the top), Hu Jintao (definitely an important person in our age of globalization, but not quite as potent in this previous year as Putin, I guess), Gen. David Petraeus (smart, poignant, maybe the better choice, but for Time is probably too temporary an individual), and the victor Vladimir Putin (who Michael Barone thinks is a poor choice, especially to Petraeus).

Putin claims he never has written an email but frequently reads from a Bible he keeps in his plane. His mother was an Orthodox Christian.

At his first meeting with the Russian president, George W. Bush said of Putin, "I looked the man in the eye. I found him to be very straightforward and trustworthy...I was able to get a sense of his soul."
Putin is running for President of the United States in '08.

Don't say anything publicly about how the Kremlin is jacked up. You might be imprisoned, shot, or poisoned with polonium 210.

A person resembling Matt Damon was recently seen wearing black and driving an FJ Cruiser around streets of Moscow. Could it be you, Jason Bourne?

Putin has garnered waves of support from a cultish movement of vivacious young people calling themselves Nashi. There is something familiar about the sounding of this word...can't seem to put my finger on it.

Though Putin is known as having a stoic-faced demeanor and a sense of humor akin to Satan, spies employed by TMZ spotted Putin and Mahmoud Ahmadinejad in a rousing game of Battle of the Sexes at Ahmadinejad's palace in Tehran. No, it wasn't in the thirty mile zone.

Thanks Time. In all seriousness, read the article in the latest edition of Time Magazine - it's a smart and chilling choice of journalism to name Putin as POTY. I was talking to a friend today about when one looks at the fifteen or so years before a major war, they find multiple international events of cause and effect leading up to the culmination of what started out as differences of opinion. I'm not trying to make as a bold a statement as the President did concerning the onslaught of WWIII if Iran isn't prevented from having the knowledge necessary of making nuclear weapons. Sometimes I do wonder, however, if this a sign of things to come. [Enter fire-breathing prophets from the movie Left Behind 2: Tribulation Force]

This is actually Bush shaking the hand of a plastic mannequin that the Putin administration used as a decoy.

In other news, Obama is leading the Iowa Democratic caucus with a 1.3 spread over Hillary and Huckabee has an encouraging 5.7 spread lead to Romney in Iowa and a 6.5 lead over Romney in South Carolina. Wowzers.

I will now be getting back to the series of my previous post.

His Dark Materials

2007-12-12T16:55:00.000-08:00

* This is the first in a series of posts I am writing on the response of modern evangelicalism to philosophy and schools of thought contrary to biblical doctrine. This first post is not conclusive.

I wasn’t planning on seeing Chris Weitz’s wearily anticipated The Golden Compass (which is based on Philip Pullman's novel Northern Lights) until the evangelical right told me not to – so I went and saw it. To the appeal and, I’m sure, satisfaction of some prominent conservative leaders, I didn’t even have to pay for the movie because my friend Patrick had free tickets. Last Saturday night was one of the first times I have not been distracted by computer generated effects while watching a movie that so religiously implements such technology. I must say I thoroughly enjoyed the film. It was entertaining, thought provoking, and even though it has a fair share of epic elements so popular in Hollywood today, I thought it effectively cushioned the viewer’s expectations of realism by excluding the cheesy one-liners and patronizing themes that one might find in Pirates of the Caribbean or such. It is hard to create the first movie based on a trilogy in literature, primarily because you have to successfully materialize a plot and theme that stands alone as a two-hour story while leaving the audience with a sense of incompletion and anticipation for the next “book”. I thought Weitz did just that.

The philosophical themes throughout the movie have been the catalyst for the boycotts and outrage among religious organizations within the United States. Quite frankly, it is most definitely a critique of Christian theology and more specifically, Roman Catholicism. I haven’t read the novels but they are apparently much more blatant as an exposé of monotheistic religions than the film has yet to be. Regardless, though the film is more vanilla and watered-down in its philosophical message, the parallels are striking if one has even the remotest ability to critically analyze obscure messages in art. In that, I mostly disagree with film critic Philip Martin that it's doubtful "anyone who doesn’t go into the film looking for an anti-religious message will find one." I think anyone who has any kind of Judeo-Christian knowledge can easily pick up those themes, and for that reason, I find The Golden Compass quite fascinating.

Without wanting to be overstated, I feel the desire to express some opinions and questions concerning the state of American evangelicalism in regards to this issue of “anti-Christian” media, this microcosmic trepidation swimming in a sea of concern. I have found myself becoming increasingly apprehensive to the validity of conservative voices declaring that Christians should not see this movie. What I’m not trying to do here is make a case of why one should see this movie nor am I even trying defend the movie. That isn’t the point of this post series. I want to discuss fear-based faith, incoherent logic, judgmental accusations, and why people of faith end up proving many messages true which are found in films like these. I don’t mean to criticize more than just express what we all need help with – that is: believing that through a biblical lens, we as Christians can appropriately digest and analyze the philosophies and ideas of the world, while more effectively acting out our love-based faith in ways that glorify God and draw an unbelieving world closer to an intimate journey with Jesus. I welcome you to post comments as I continue this post series. I hope I don't get lazy and stop. I'll try...and we shall see.

A Thousand Zen-like Blackbirds

2007-10-21T16:24:00.000-07:00

Just wanted to post a few updates:

First of all, you will notice on the right a new link, "Commodius Vicus," which is the blog for a reading group I started recently. Next Sunday is our second meeting together, in which we will be discussing our current read "A Thousand Splendid Suns" by Khaled Hosseini. I highly recommend this book...if you like weeping.

Next, I am excited about the honor of performing in the play Pride and Prejudice which is coming up in November. The performance will be held at MCC. I will try to write later about my experience with the show.

I am wrapping up housesitting for a couple who go to my church. Tuesday is my last day, which makes me sad because staying here has been like visiting God's living room or something. It is so peaceful here and is very conducive to studying and resting and contemplating. There is a garden out back showcasing a fish pond and fountain, some flowers I can't pronounce, and a wind chime that hits some perfect notes in a zen sort of way. It is prolific and enchanting, providing a quick getaway from the aesthetic laziness of Waco.

I have been in two almost-fights in the past week. One in the movie theatre (after I shushed a guy who wouldn't shut up) and the other on the deck of On the Border restaurant (I would have been backing up my friend Britt, who also did nothing to instigate, but this UT fan was just really upset about a man who wanted him to stop playing with the TV). Neither did I start, kind of, and thankfully neither materialized in to an actual physical conflict. I just think it's interesting that both of these things happened so close together. I think everyone is pissed off that the cold weather hasn't come yet and it's the end of October. Or the Ides of March decided to fly in on the backs of the blackbirds who make their appearance every fall. Who knows.

Study: Biting spread devil tumors

2007-10-09T21:48:00.000-07:00

This article was taken from CNN. Imagine where else in your lifetime you would read something similar to the first sentence of this article. Enjoy.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

SYDNEY, Australia (AP) -- Australian researchers have made a breakthrough discovery in understanding a rapidly spreading facial cancer that has decimated the country's Tasmanian Devil population.

Incurable facial cancer has nearly wiped out all of the Tasmanian Devils in Australia.

A lack of genetic diversity in the fierce, fox-like creatures has meant the animals' immune system does not try to fight off the disease, spread through biting, according to a study by the University of Sydney's School of Veterinary Science released last week.
The grotesque facial tumors were first spotted in the devil population around a decade ago in the northeast of Australia's island state of Tasmania, where 90 percent of the species has died of the disease.
The affliction is spreading south and west, and scientists estimate that within five years, there will be no disease-free population in Tasmania -- the only place in the world where the carnivorous marsupials exist outside zoos.
Seeking to understand how a facial cancer could be contagious, the University of Sydney researchers found that the tumors had originated from a single cell line that was spread through the population by biting.
Because Tasmanian devils are genetically similar, their bodies do not recognize the tumors as foreign cells and do not produce an effective immune response.
"We propose that this tumor arose in a single individual and has spread through the population by biting during fights for food and mates," lead researcher Katherine Belov said in a statement.
"Essentially, there are no natural barriers to the spread of the disease, so affected individuals must be removed from populations to stop disease transmission," she said.

Scientists estimate that the wild devil population has fallen from around 140,000 in the 1990s to 80,000 in 2006 due to the spread of the tumors. By making it difficult for the animals to bite and catch prey, the tumors usually lead to their death from starvation within six months.
Experts fear the remaining healthy animals could become extinct within the next two decades if they are not isolated from the disease.

Since the disease first emerged, scientists have been working to save the endangered marsupials, known for their powerful jaws and bloodcurdling growl. Programs to try to save them include plans to relocate breeding pairs to island sanctuaries.

Then There Were Nine

2007-09-26T08:24:00.000-07:00

I have learned that success is to be measured not so much by the position that one has reached in life as by the obstacles which he has overcome while trying to succeed. Out of the hard and unusual struggle through which he is compelled to pass, he gets a strength, a confidence, that one misses whose pathway is comparatively smooth by reason of birth and race.

-Booker T. Washington-

Yesterday was the 50th anniversary of the integration of Central High School.

Thank God for the individuals, even those unknown, for risking status, occupation, and life in order to see our society move past its devastating biogtries and progress into a nation full of people who humbly accept each other as an equal. Even so, Lord, help us still.

Clapboard Sidekicks

2007-08-25T13:09:00.000-07:00

Back porch: Iguana pulls lightly on guitar strings
Rested in the corner.
Dark man, crusty fedora resting on chest, bourbon in shattered glass
Still clinging to his palms, waiting for suicide to catch up.
Ice cubes for teeth, painful residue pours over the side of his mouth,
Melting down and down.

Back porch: childhood memoirs zoom past with heavy traffic,
But cars just aren’t loud enough to drown out a splitting headache.
(Thank you Tennessee)
Back porch aerobics consist of swaggering, stopping, resting shins
Of arms on rusty metal rail.

Damning playpen.

Dark man smells Montana hills;
Montana freedom. Slanted enemies…steel cages awaiting their deployment to
Righteous death.
Dark man looks into sky visible only through slanted brick sight-lines,
Reminding him of calla lily. And. Ymali.
But resounding skies stretching beyond tailored humanity = freedom.

Ymali was:
False bliss,
feathered abyss.

Set me free, Montana.

Back porch politics,
Clapboard sidekicks -
Double-standard no shows
Laughing at their win.

O Montana, don’t let her win.
O Montana, O Victor.

Updates ! !

2007-08-23T09:15:00.000-07:00

I would like to let you know of a couple updates to my blog.

First
you will notice the picture of the castlescape at the top of the page which welcomes you each time you visit. I ripped it off some website.

Second
you will notice I have updated my links to the right. A couple new faces: Pat Cuff, Carson Higgs and Jorge Sanchez. If you were previously on my links to the right and are no longer included it is because you were not updating your blog and I removed you to simplify. Apologies if you are offended.

Third,
please read this post (click on "post") to brighten your day. Carson, the gentleman who wrote the post, has a link that can be found to the right for future enjoyment.

Divine Giants

2007-07-28T21:25:00.000-07:00

If you live near Forth Worth, Texas, I recommend visiting the current exhibit of Ron Mueck's hyperrealist sculptures of larger (and smaller) than life human beings.

This last one is called Spooning Couple. They were my favorite. At about foot long, even the smallest detail was intact. What was so interesting about this couple, aesthetically, was the stubble on the man's face and the glimmer in each of their eyes. I tried to get in the eyeline of each sculpture to see if it made a difference in how I viewed them - how I interpreted their emotions. This couple was the most impacting. I felt creepy, as if this guy was going to stand up and punch me in the nostril with his little fist for busting into his bedroom with his bedmate half-naked. I caught his eye and I saw a shimmer, the beginnings of a glass tear forming into a drop the size of a molecule on his apathetic face. Then again, I knew he was completely unaware that I was inspecting his seasoned boredom.

Here are some other pictures from the Modern:

Martin Puryear Ladder for Booker T. Washington, 1996

Barnaby Furnas The Other Way, 2007

A large iron sculpture on the MAM grounds.

The Human Torch and me.

Look

2007-07-21T15:13:00.000-07:00

Please look at this post from my friend Ty Denney.

Disappointment

2007-07-08T19:52:00.000-07:00

One of those moments happened today.

Recently I wake up. I go throughout my monotonous day, and like wet spaghetti sitting in a bowl of wire mesh, I strain each minute in search of value and purpose hoping to find some sort of residue leftover from accomplishments of the past. It's strange. For some reason I am constantly looking forward to the future. It's as if, in Jacob's book of prophecy, Nostradamus has predicted some sort of change, a type of climactic feature awaiting me around Sunday's corner.

I was explaining this to a friend yesterday morning during church and blurted out some things I hadn't realized before. What's happening: I'm looking forward to each upcoming week as if some event is taking place - like a wedding or mountain-biking, a date with an attractive girl, vacation, a day off from work and possibly a new opportunity to change my schedule. But with each week that comes and goes, I subconsciously am let down with each seven-day work week as if it didn't perform what it promised. As the weekend ends, I am disillusioned with the reality that nothing is really different than it was the week before. Soon it will be autumn. I tend towards a tolerance of mediocrity because I'm somehow convinced that what I was doing a year ago, whether it be a "successful" discipline of my faith or a simple outpouring of my energies into other people, is still reaping the same fruit today.

Lord, humble me with the truth that my value is certainly not dependent on what I do. But let the truth that I am valued by You illumine my days so that I no longer wait for life to show up and change me, but that I must seek the change You have to offer. Transform my worldview to where I am no longer disillusioned with the inevitable, but encouraged by the opportunity that the inevitable brings to give You glory.

Yet, with respect to the promise of God, Abraham did not waver in unbelief but grew strong in faith, giving glory to God, and being fully assured that what God had promised, He was also able to perform.

Romans 4 20-21

* The photo above was taken by Aloha Lavina

A Thought on Abstract Art by Danny Tanner

2007-06-06T22:41:00.001-07:00

On my wall is hanging a canvas displaying a little creative barfing I did several years ago. This concoction of cubist and abstract forms creates a slanted smiling face upon which flat, gray boulders bounce down, one by one. Occupying most of the top left corner are several clouds producing a rogue strike of yellow lightening aimed at one of the boulders. In the top right corner hangs a red teardrop - made of wax - coming from some feminine eye that has torn itself through the canvas to peer at curious faces gazing onto her light blue hue of stretched fabric.

[If I owned a digital camera you would see its likeness on this web page, but unfortunately I do not own such a device.]

It has a name: Boulders Rolling Down a Happy Hill. I'm not very proud of this painting, as one of my only memories associated with it consists of the time I asked Russell and James (two urban teenagers who once lived with me) what they thought of it...they were honest - very honest. In fact, the only specific thing I remember is one of them declaring that "Bob painted it." After a couple moments of confused chuckles I asked, "What? What do you mean, 'Bob painted it?' "

"Yeah! Bob painted it! Bob - you know - that stupid dad on Full House. You look just like him." The twins definitely thought it was more fun to lampoon me rather than offer a balanced critique of Boulders.

Several nights ago I was lying on my bed, tired but pensive and tired from being pensive, when my eyes fell on the painting. What is valuable about this amateur mass nailed to my wall? Gene Edward Veith, author of State of the Arts, would probably denounce my work labeling it void of content and form. Veith makes a steady case in his book that paintings containing subject matter of streams by a river or a mountain scape presenting a small family of horses in the foreground are usually overlooked by the aristocratic, snobby "art" connoisseurs as too normal or unsophisticated or unintelligent. I agree with Veith on this - just because a certain work of art is simple in it's content and naturally common in form does not invalidate it as a good piece of art...and people who denounce it as the amateur indulgence are really just being ignorant and pompous.

But there is something I realized that night as I followed the tiny specks of gravel rushing down the slope after their parents into the windblown grass appearing midway down the canvas in Boulders. Putting other endless philosophical issues aside concerning art, I had a miniature revelation - if that isn't an oxymoron - about abstract works of art:

Look at a black swash of paint on a striking white canvas, or ribbons of Pollack-style stripes interlacing one another, or a jumbled mess of crayon meltings that a child has made for her father - what makes these things universally valuable? Of course we could discuss double meaning, subjective interpretations, or Postmodern anti-structure. But what is objectively wonderful about these things - or anything created by people - is that there is a human behind it. If all other worth fades from the glory of some abstract gallery observation, the one value it will have left is that the only reason it exists is because it was created by a human being. I thought about the fact that my little piece of art hanging on my wall only exists because I made it. Those boulders rolling down that happy hill would be absolutely void of matter if it weren't for my building it. It's value is placed upon it - regardless of it's content or form - because I am behind those lines moving with each other to compose a visual objective. This, I thought, was amazing. But to stop there is to stop at the glorification of humanity - to insist, in some sort of humanistic element, that we are the ultimate value-givers. Thankfully it doesn't stop with us. What's more, in the same way that our creation is valuable because we created it, the only thing that gives we humans value is the fact that a loving creator is responsible for our existence. The intricate, delicate orchestration of God in the making of human form and human content is what places value upon us. Let Him receive His glory as the ultimate Artist and the value-giver of the creation. We are a work of art - humans are valuable not because of what we have done, but because the beginnings of our existence, our form, our beauty lies in the creative spirit of the living God.

Accounting Abilities

2007-05-30T16:55:00.000-07:00

Today I was asked by a girl at my church to help me teach some high-schoolers how to dance and share why I enjoy dancing and why it's important to me. I sort of didn't believe her at first because all I can do is some ballet, a little swing, and a couple jazz motifs. That's not a problem if I was instructing some little elementary age girls with pink ribbons in their hair. But something tells me that this is a part of the Urban Ministries at my church where the most desirable forms of dancing fall somewhere between hip hop and combat/modern movement.
Anyway, I was going to give it a shot but yesterday I had an accident at the gym. I was doing some isolated dumbbell curls and, as I was curling my right hand, I felt a nerve pinch in my upper back, or something pull - I'm not quite sure. Regardless, I woke up this morning unable to turn my head to the right and feeling a strange sense of searingess and pressurized stinging in that complex system of rubber bands which exist to the right of my spine. So I explain this to my friend in which she replies, "Oh no, I'm so sorry you hurt your back. I didn't know you worked out."

I had to reduce an outburst of laughter to just a wide smile at the sincerity of her compassionate conversation. I only had to think it was funny, of course, because if there's anyone who knows it's not obvious that I work out, it's me. But I began thinking about how many girls have responded that way when I have mentioned in passing that I go to the gym. They get this surprised look on their face and with voices exuding the same intensity of shock, reply, "Really? No way! I didn't know you lifted weights. Wait, do you do cardio stuff or actually lift, like, weights? " It goes without saying that women have an innate impulse, as if it were commanded of them by some cosmic force, to tell men what they think about them without being inquired of - like the time I walked into a classroom after shaving my goatee feeling clean cut and to the hilt, but when one of my female friends saw it she got this horrified look on her face and screamed, "Grow it back! Grow it back!"
If a woman said to someone, "I've been going to Jenny Craig for three years," to which a man responded, "Really? I didn't know you were trying to lose weight," I can't imagine that going over well. But thankfully, since I'm already fully aware of my physique or lack thereof, my feelings were nothing but uplifted at the well-meaning intent of my friend. At least she thinks I can dance.

******

In other news...

I think I almost got addicted to the Internet. I've been working two jobs and during the small windows of time I had, I would automatically get on and browse the web. The Internet is amazing. I absolutely love Facebook and Wikipedia, which are found on my links to the right. However, I began spending a little more time than usual online and one day realized that I had spent too much time when I wasted about three hours one Saturday morning researching UFOs. Another hour was spent another day with Wikipedia teaching me how chocolate is made and why particle accelerators are in danger of making the state of New York disappear. Embarrassing, I know. So, in order to break me of my habit, I installed some software that logs every website I go to and sends that log to an "accountability" partner. The catch for me is: I gave my partner a list of six websites that I am allowed to visit. They are all boring, business-related websites that one could spend hardly any time on. It's been great and now I am going back (in those small windows of time) to reading and walking and spending more time with God. Sometimes it takes a little self-induced restrictions to let discipline take advantage of its opportunity.

*****

Derek Webb's new album, The Ringing Bell is superb. A bright musical contrast to his last album, but still includes the prophetically provocative lyrics he is known for.
[Link to the right]

Some Recent Haiku and Sentences

2007-05-05T15:06:00.000-07:00

I wrote recently. First, haiku. If you desire to read this aloud to yourself or someone sitting beside you, read it twice. Haiku must always be read aloud twice.

A dandelion.
Tiny residue sprinkles
earth in need of seed.

----------------

Butterflies take flight
within my chest upon a

glance from crystal eyes

Next are several excerpts from a short story I have been working on entitled "Virga." It's about a time I picked up a woman on my way to Little Rock who was running down I-30 in the rain. Her motives of purposefully planting herself along a busy highway during a thunderstorm became quickly apparent as she explained her occupation during the following ten minuets. Hopefully it will become a compassionate expose of the need for life-on-life integration between the prosperous elite and those continuously ravaged by street-wise temptation. I'll never forget a Waco PD officer telling me one night, "You know, if you really want to know people on the street - and the best way to love them - talk to the hookers. Homeless crack addicts want one thing...your money. A prostitute, on the other hand, after realizing you don't want sex will open up with you. They'll be honest about who they are and what they really want."

--------------------------------

Virga

Sometimes rain does not complete its sky dive on its way to the ground. Desert sands are much more familiar to the phenomenon called virga than mountainous regions which provide little opportunity for gusty air pockets to move freely within the confines of green and lush entanglement. Even then, empty, dry landscapes don't always allow for more of nature's anarchy but for these simple and thirsty days when the environment gets bored. On days like these, like a compressed heater on the face, hot pressure slaps our dry dunes before rising upward to melt and disintegrate ice crystals leaping from dark clouds teasing the land below. Virga is rain – rain that doesn’t make it.

~~~~~~~~~

The African-American woman was around thirty, wearing a ragged white dress shirt and jean shorts. She looked chilly but wasn’t shivering. She unbuttoned the shirt revealing a blue bra underneath which hung desperately onto her gaunt shoulders. She asked for a towel.

“Um, let me see here.” I handed her my blue Penguin Brand shirt draped over the back seat. “Where are you headed?”

“That way,” she ambiguously replied, pointing to the road ahead. She began to dry herself off with the shirt I handed her.

“What’s your name?”

“Tellunquinah. That’s my name. I’m kind of hungry, do you – ”

“Tel –oon? – Telloonkwin…what is it again?” I was trying to get her name out so I could remember it and use it during the discussion I knew was approaching and inevitable.

She then administrated courteous instructions how to pronounce her name, and I thought it was a strange name, but she articulated that handle as if her little car seat cockpit morphed into an enormously electric baptismal with jubilant applauding at the crowning of her mysterious, and hopefully sexy, identity. By this time she had found herself becoming frigid or at least it occurred to her I wasn’t interested in scrutinizing her unclothed chest, so she buttoned her shirt finishing halfway to the top. The whole name explanation performance was her give-away. At that moment, I bowed to my suspicion of what vocation she was engaging. With speech dripping like honey off wind-dried lips so chapped from aspirating jests of compliment breathily strutting down the catwalk of her tongue, the skin of her soul became even more transparent than the sopping, white dress shirt she sported.

“So, are you a Baylor boy? I’ve known a lot of Baylor boys – they’re all so fun.”

“No. I don’t go to Baylor. Never have,” I said with enthusiasm. I usually experience a strange sense of delightful disloyalty and pride when professing that I have never attended Baylor, because disestablishing myself from the world’s largest Baptist university is my freedom from a prison of stereotypes. I wondered if this human being sitting next to me desired the same manner of exoneration.

~~~~~~~~~

I could see it in my mind: night after night, men in search of salving pain and desire, heading to Tellunquinah Gallery for tonight was the exhibit showcasing a bland, naked appeal to be beautiful, to be loved. And sowing into a thunderstorm, Tulluniqhinah continued giving in to her audience's appeal and in my mind I saw her reaping the harvest of a cloud so desolate, so volatile that only the shaming attacks of lightening and violent tirades of thunder were available to bring her sustenance, teaching her that a crystal meth ecstasy is all she's ever worth.

------------------

Hopefully Jacob will get the discipline needed to finish this story. Maybe it's not a matter of discipline, but time. Who knows? One day...

The Frogs are Jumping for Joy

2007-05-05T14:52:00.000-07:00

I wanted to make special note and due mention to my friend John Schellhase, who has been awarded the Walton Fellowship in Translation 2007 - 2008 for his translation of "The Battle of Frogs and Mice." That's a big deal up at the University of Arkansas. I've read some of John's translation of this piece and it was quite incredible. This fellowship is awarded from the Walton family themselves and along with including a huge bust of the late Sam Walton, the total cash prize is about 75 million dollars or something like that. So if you want something cool, talk to John. He's rich and famous now.

John blog is in the link to the right and is worth reading on a consistent basis. Well done John!

God's Idea

2007-04-23T22:45:00.000-07:00

“The Lord is my best mate. I don't need no-one else.
He broke my alarm clock so I can have a lie-in.
He ran me a bath quietly.
He restarts the game when I lose.
He takes me where there's no zombies coz He's cool!
Even though I 2-step through Dev Green at night,
I fear no chavs/stoners coz you 2-step with me and your windmilling arms
they keep me balanced."

This is a portion of the twenty-third Psalm rewritten by a fifteen year-old girl in Sheffield, England. The once rejected, Gothic youth of England are finding a sanctuary of life and hope in the middle of Antioch, Sheffield. These teenagers are rewriting portions of the Bible in more relevant terms. The result? Rustic, naked, magnificent poetry.

Hmmm

2007-04-03T16:54:00.000-07:00

I thought this was kind of funny... am I sick?

:::::::::: Taken from here at FOXNews.com ::::::::::

LONDON — Keith Richards has acknowledged consuming a raft of illegal substances in his time, but this may top them all.
In comments published Tuesday, the 63-year-old Rolling Stones guitarist said he had snorted his father's ashes mixed with cocaine.

"The strangest thing I've tried to snort? My father. I snorted my father," Richards was quoted as saying by British music magazine NME.

"He was cremated and I couldn't resist grinding him up with a little bit of blow. My dad wouldn't have cared," he said. "... It went down pretty well, and I'm still alive."

Richards' father, Bert, died in 2002, at 84. Richards, one of rock's legendary wild men, told the magazine that his survival was the result of luck, and advised young musicians against trying to emulate him.

"I did it because that was the way I did it. Now people think it's a way of life," he was quoted as saying. "I've no pretensions about immortality," he added. "I'm the same as everyone ... just kind of lucky. I was No. 1 on the `who's likely to die' list for 10 years. I mean, I was really disappointed when I fell off the list," Richards said.

: My note : Remember kids, don't snort your parent's ashes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A couple musical artists I've found (or been told about) recently that I really like:

Sam and Ruby :: Romantic cheese; but really tasty romantic cheese.

Joshua Radin :: Acoustic Folk. Some of his work sounds quite similar to Simon and Garfunkle.

Eternal Life

2007-03-30T21:16:00.000-07:00

This is eternal life, that they may know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent.

John 17:3

Make me unwilling to resist You, unwilling to disobey You, unwilling to not acknowledge your consistency. I am desperate for Life - for You...not religious plastic, not in a mere rejection of my past; but may I never substitute intellect and ice cream for Your heart, Your presence, Your intimacy, believing that I have somehow stumbled upon eternal life in the company of material makeup: mansions, lollipops and streets made of yellow heaviness, tongues of men and angels, hope, peace, insight, degrees and the ability to heal, a new life, a new body, a face, a name. May I never forget that eternal life is knowing You - even with all of your gifts, it is nothing else but You.

Cardboard Umbrellas

2007-03-13T17:02:00.000-07:00

It’s not every day you get to see a presidential candidate speak. No matter what political affiliation one is with, I definitely recommend attending a campaign rally of some sort. The energy is high and it’s just fun to see everyone get excited about something other than themselves. On February 23rd, I went to see Barack Obama at Auditorium Shores in Austin.

To prove it, I have included a picture of me from the Associated Press that I found online. If you look directly to the left of Barack’s right elbow, you will see a man wearing an orange cap. Look directly below and to the right of his face and you will see about ¼ of my face.

I arrived at one o’clock knowing that a couple bands were going to play and expecting this hopeful to deliver his speech at 2 pm. I walked through the gate to see a medium crowd gathering around a thrust stage. The platforming began at the back of the park, (which overlooked the river) holding the band, and coming out before it was a runway ending in another wide platform like something you would see at a fashion show. Some volunteer handed me a free cardboard sign which read “Obama 08” and would later prove to be very useful.

He didn’t end up speaking until 3, but nobody really cared because the bands were entertaining everyone with songs dedicated to the “current regime,” with intros like, “This next one goes out to all those people who gave money after Hurricane Katrina to the Red Cross and other organizations who took their money and still haven’t given it to New Orleans.” The New Orleans musicians also sang a song about Rosa Parks. I didn’t know they were singing about that Rosa until the very last line when he said her name a lot slower and then the whole song made a lot more sense. At another time, the backup singer of these Rastafarian rockers said, “Let’s hear it for Morocco Bible!” I thought it strange and possibly adverse to Obama’s campaign to be giving a shout out for the Nation of Islam, but after everyone held up their cardboard signs and cheered, I realized she actually screamed, “Let’s hear it for Barack Obama!”

The crowd was fun, to say the least. The place was littered with stereotypical Austinites, and I was only a little surprised to smell a waft of pot blowing in my general direction. I felt like I was a trout in a lake full of goldfish – that I was surrounded by a load of Theatre Majors and Ellen Degeneres fans. It was great. For some reason I love being around these types of people, the reason formerly being because I felt like a missionary in the midst of pagans, trying to coerce them into behaving and believing along my lines of a correct, Republican way of thinking. But that’s just arrogant and foolish, because I’m sure a lot of these people love Jesus as much as I do (as if that’s even a lot) and want to see a change in American politics for the benefit of human beings. Energetic expectations were through the roof and I’m surprised people weren’t taking off their clothes and flashing each other. This was a rock concert and everyone was in the mosh pit.

Because I arrived so early, I had an excellent view of the platform upon which Obama was to stand. People around me were very friendly and elated and were always looking for an opportunity to hold up their blue cardboard signs. Not only did people sport these campaign signs, but also homemade signs as well. Signs that displayed slogans such as, “Live Music Capitol of the World – Barackin and Rollin,” and “Barack the vote,” or “Time for a regime change,” or better yet, “Obama Baracks my world!” Several t-shirts read “You bet your [picture of a donkey] I’m a Democrat” or the Baylor Democrats shirt which, not surprisingly read, “Jesus didn’t ride in on an elephant…He rode in a donkey.” I noticed water marks beginning to show on these shirts as rain began to fall. That’s when everyone’s sign became a makeshift umbrella to shield their hair from the wet. I decided to stand on my tiptoes and look around the park. I was amazed at how many people showed up (reports being over 20,000) and was more amazed at how close I was to the platform. Apparently this was the largest turnout yet for any rally for Barack Obama. I think Austin was proud of this, as they should be, with Texas being barely able to even attract a Democratic Presidential candidate for a rally. This is when the first speaker came out.

Actually it was a set of speakers: one being the President of UT Democrats and the other being the Chairwoman of some African-American group on campus. They were horrible – quite possibly the worst choices for someone to introduce a Presidential candidate in any situation. Really, if you’re going to have someone get up in front of 20,000 people, make sure they know how to talk in public. I felt like I was watching two physicists read a scene from some dramatic play. I’m sure they’re great people and whatnot, but I felt sorry for all the Democrats in the crowd and I felt sorry for Barack Obama who I could just picture sitting backstage holding his head and shaking it or throwing up or something outrageous like that.

Then the next speaker approached the platform. She was a young woman, short, wearing large sunglasses and had a voice that resembled Fran Drescher from "The Nanny." Her speech was okay, but again, one could conclude that she was not a public speaker. At one point she began talking about Hurricane Katrina and how horribly the government responded to the situation to which one man standing nearby screamed, “That’s not the government’s job!” This took her off guard but she regained composure. I chuckled a little at the fact that this guy was heckling her. The things Americans want to hear from Barack concern immigration reform, the war in Iraq and help for the poor. At least it seemed that this crowd was concerned with little else – especially Hurricane Katrina.

The sound system began to play one of those pump-you-up songs you hear on Jock Jams as Fran Drescher announced the arrival of this Presidential hopeful. Obama did a sort of dance walk onto the platform – not awkwardly – just enough to show that he too is hip and likes music from Jock Jams. His speech was good. He spoke on healthcare reform, saying that we need to find a solution to universal healthcare. He offered a pursuit of finding ways to lower college tuition so that those from lower economic conditions can have the same educational opportunity as the wealthy. People seemed to really engage during his critique of the war in Iraq. Obama claims not to have supported the war in the first place and I think that helps his image of being smart and intuitive, especially when less than half of Americans think that the US can win the war in Iraq. For the most part, I watched his speech as a distant spectator. It was as if

Barack’s purpose right there in the falling rain, wading in a sea of jubilant supporters, was to convince me to vote for him - to persuade me that his campaign really is different and the fact that he is inexperienced in politics means that he is inexperienced in telling lies, and that he is truly a diplomatic voice of hope for this next election. I realized something while listening to this man: like that verse in the Bible says, if every man be found a liar, still Jesus would be found true. It occurred to me that people are absolutely desperate for humility and trust within their leaders and that is what is making Obama so attractive. I hope the man is honest. People are looking for vulnerability, as well as responsibility and unfortunately, we're looking for perfection in others when it can't be found outside the person of Jesus. As I sat there listening to him speak, I realized even his most charismatic supporters will be deterred by something somewhere within his campaign or Presidency...even Barack Obama will let people down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The water continued to melt its way through the cardboard, wilting the sturdy signs into a soggy mess. Most people abandoned their signs to the trash can and I immediately thought it a shame to waste something that people spent a lot of money making. I left feeling somewhat encouraged. For the first time in our generation, it seems there is a Presidential candidate who is fighting for the young people of America. Personally, Obama might be too liberal for my moderate standing, but at least these passionate young adults are feeling a surge in political awareness and are willing to broaden their scope beyond the black and white political dogmatism of prior decades. I think we'll see in 2008 - we'll see just how different the forerunners of this next Presidential term are willing to be.

Skcubrats

2007-03-06T20:47:00.000-08:00

Last night I started a new job at Starbucks.

I am now working two jobs: Starbucks and Antioch Community Church as Assistant Accountant. I am initially very impressed with what this coffee company offers. They seem to be very ethical in their approach to business and are very concerned with the well-being of their employees, supporting diversity and community outreach. It's also nice to have a job that is hands on and not just crunching numbers.

The primary reason for getting an additional job was so that I could pay off my student loans more quickly. I hate debt and don't want to be in it again.

Hello more income, goodbye social life...

FYI

2007-02-20T21:45:00.000-08:00

Do you ever have "ice breakers" at your local church get-togethers, Bible studies, AA meetings or whatever? The most common ice breaker I ever hear is, "Name one thing that most people don't know about you." I usually clam up at the asking of this question because I can never think of something clever that people don't know about me, or I just don't want to share a secret of mine in a public setting. Well, I have thought of some things that most people don't know about me which I have described below:

I am fascinated with babies. 8 year-olds, not so much. But I am absolutely comfortable holding a newborn infant and can ogle at them for hours.

I love the smell of cigarette smoke. I have never smoked a cigarette, but after having been in theatre for six years, I got addicted to second-hand fumes and have preferred the smell ever since.

The odor which a skunk emits is very pleasing to me as well. If I'm driving my car and pass a dead skunk, for some reason I really enjoy it. Not like I would want it in the form of a woman's perfume or anything like that. It's kind of like when you really like the smell of rubber or a fire or something.

I develop dreadful canker sores in my mouth as a result of stress. One time, on the weekend of a show I was in, four of these blasted sores formed in my mouth and it was very painful for me to speak.

I hate dogs. Well, that's kind of obvious.

My uvula (the little boxing bag that hangs from the roof of your mouth) is so long that it rests on my tongue at all times.

I have been brought to tears more than once from looking at pictures of astronomical entities.

I'm pretty sure I've seen every episode of The Andy Griffith Show ever created.

My dream as a child was to be Arthur Duncan, the black tap dancer on The Lawrence Welk Show.

My other three dream jobs growing up was to be: an architect, a meteorologist, and an FBI agent.

In my life I've tried to play baseball, basketball, soccer, flag football, roller hockey, guitar, drums, tennis and ice hockey, and the only thing I can do decently after all that is play drums.

I decided to become a Christian at a Billy Graham Crusade when I was five years old.

Ice breakers are fun. So is sharing discreet information about yourself. If you like, please share something about you that most people don't know using the comment function. Then we can all get to know each other a little better...

Why Dogs are Not a Beneficial Supplement to the Human Race

2007-02-11T14:48:00.000-08:00

The other night I went dog hunting. I pulled into the gravel driveway of my two-story garage apartment and was halted by a pack of rather aggressive, muscular canines. Three strays, three caged belonging to my neighbor Anthony, and one yip-yip belonging to my friends in the house in front of me, to be exact. All seven dogs were blowing a gasket at the fury of their fellow species. I made a sharp right into my driveway and parked the car.

Pistols are fun. For some reason, shooting a pistol makes you feel like James Bond or Patton or a Nazi, thus launching you into an imaginary realm of whose purpose is utmost supreme. I had interviewed for a job earlier in the day at Starbucks (finding some additional work to my accounting job) and was wearing dark wash jeans, a buttoned down shirt tucked in, black dress shoes, and the black jacket to my suit. I walked upstairs and opened the top drawer to my dresser and loaded the BB gun. I grew up shooting real guns – guns that can take another person’s life – and even though I still enjoy a good round of target practice, I have since then abandoned the farcical need to keep a firearm in my house. Now the only shooter I own is a spring-loaded BB pistol that bears a striking resemblance to a 9mm and is powerful enough to shoot through a piece of paper…maybe. Moving on, I walked outside and began unloading. I had no target at first; I just wanted to shoot at some things in a pretend Secret Service rage. Finally, the only opportunity I had to pelt one of the dogs was when I saw something that, retrospectively, is hilarious. One of the mutts came stumbling out from behind a shed as if it had been drinking the night away with his buds and started dragging his nose along the ground like an anteater on speed. I wondered if he was purposefully taunting me to shoot him, because anything looking that ridiculous deserves to be shot. I took aim and fired. I didn’t hold the gun in a proper manner like you would to cushion the explosive kick of gunpowder. I held it like Dirty Harry, or Squanto or whatever Native-American that was, pointing the direction to a promised-land for Zionistic pilgrims. I don’t think I hit him. But it scared the mangy thing and he ran off to join his fellows in their Friday night drinking binge.

I pack heat frequently around the house when Anthony’s dogs are waking me up at 3 AM or keeping me from focusing during my time with God. I hope God doesn’t mind that I fire a couple rounds at their shed when nothing else can be done about the horrible noise they make, which sounds like one of those party air horns you get from the dollar store and use to make a raucous at your sister’s homecoming ceremony. I’ve already called the police – once last fall when they wouldn’t shut up and no action was taken by their owner to calm the dogs’ bleating. Now, Anthony, the owner of the dogs next door, is a good man. He loves to hunt and fish and be a “good ole’ boy.” Just a few months ago, he adorned two fence posts leading onto his property with decapitated Catfish heads both the size of a basketball in order to “show off his game.” I didn’t know that he had done this until my neighbor, Brandon, pointed it out. Brandon and his wife are granola Boulderites (some of the nicest people you will ever meet) and aren’t really used to individuals cutting off fish heads and parading them at the entrance of their lawns. “Umm, did you see those heads over there? I guess Anthony is really proud of his fish – or he’s superstitious or something,” Brandon tattled. I went over to investigate and after having a round of hearty guffaws, concluded that it was yet another descriptive metaphor of what it is like living in Waco, Texas.

On to dogs. I’ve recently concluded that dogs offer little service to mankind and the ones that are heroic or wonderful or whatever are few and far between. So in this discussion, we will begin by excluding seeing-eye dogs and RinTinTin K-9 Cop. And maybe Lassie. And before some macho wing nut makes a case that “real men” like dogs, let me just say that I love lions, bears, alligators and snakes…and cats, so let’s not go there. Also, I’ve heard some explain that having a dog prepares you to be a parent. I prefer being around and taking care of human babies to help prepare me for parenting – not four-legged, ugly-faced idiot dogs that will never be a positive contribution to society. I love human babies and I will gladly sacrifice time and energy for the children I have. I don’t love dogs and I refuse to invest in them. It seems to me that people express an interest in dogs because of the apparent companionship that is offered through having an animal around the house. I guess some people like having companions that:

+ Wake them up from naps and REM sleeping due to loud barking at other dogs, robbers, or falling leaves. If I ever met a human that barked, I would assume he didn’t have many friends. Granted, some people use the excuse that dogs provide protection – in some cases that might be true, but unless you want your pit bull meant for protection mauling your two year-old child, then I recommend another form of protection. Pistols, maybe?

+ Jump on your nice clothes which you are about to wear to prom or some other formal function. If there’s one thing that I think owners should consider while having a pet inside, it’s that not everyone enjoys stringy saliva, muddy paws, a sick wet nose, and their animal’s desire for affection, especially when those muddy paws and juicy lips wipe themselves all over your suit pants that you just spent $15 getting cleaned. Not worth it.

+ Use the restroom in any location they desire throughout the home. Now, I’m sure children sometimes defecate on house furniture or in other conspicuous places. For example, my brother Logan once babysat a five year-old boy whom he caught in the garage “taking a dump in a paint bucket” as he so tactfully described. When you gotta go, you gotta go. But when a dog begins throwing up on your living room rug – again – not worth it.

+ Can’t clean themselves. Cats clean themselves, why can’t dogs? They smell horrible if you don’t bathe them.

+ Can’t walk themselves. Personally, I don’t like tying ropes around my friends’ necks so they won’t run off.

+ Can you imagine what it would be like to rub your friend’ nose in their own waste after misbehaving? I don’t want to deal with that. Pets are meant for our enjoyment. None of this is enjoyable. Cats are enjoyable. Cats give you massages.

+ “Companions” who are always screaming, “Look at me, pay attention to me, listen to me, meet my needs, feed me, pet me, let me poop in your bed, I’m going to eat your shoes because I just want to, throw things at me so I can catch them in the air.” That’s not what friends do.

+ Have you ever seen dogs mate? I refuse to touch dogs on their belly, or legs, or ears, or those sick lips. I will pet a dog on the back and will go no farther than four inches from the tail.

+ I watched the dog of my friend David get fixed once. It was a female, so the “spading” process demanded more surgical requirements than a male. David’s brother was in med school and wanted to practice on Micah, so they invited a vet over to the house, sprawled the dog out on the kitchen table and got to work. I watched the whole thing and was pretty fascinated with the medical procedure, but after watching that crazy vet cut and slice the reproductive system of this poor animal, I decided eating surfaces must be reserved for just that. Not Micah’s ovaries.

These are just a few examples of why dogs are not worth it. But I think the most alarming observation I’ve made concerning these animals is that after all this, people still like them. People love their canine friends and, for some reason, treat me as though I’m missing out when I describe my disdain for these animals. Dogs are the number one household pet – which to me is proof that somewhere in that mess of nasty fur, the heart of a companion does lie. I guess I am missing out – and I guess I always will.

A New Chunnel is Drilled

2007-01-26T15:35:00.000-08:00

Last night around 9:00 I was attending an engagement party for yet another friend who is on the marriage waiting list. The second from the last molar on the top left side of my mouth began a mild ache, which has happened before, but this time Ibuprofen and Acetaminophens were not performing their intended duties. I popped a couple more pills before bed so I could fall asleep, finally drifted off and awoke at 3:30 am. When I came to, my mouth felt as though little people were standing on the platform of my lower bicuspids and, in an effort of forging a new Chunnel, were drilling a hole into that same tooth bothering me several hours before. So I got up, took another Advil and tried to go back to sleep. People, this is some of the worst mouth pain I have ever experienced. Because the pain was keeping me from finding rest, I put on my clothes and headed to Wal-Mart to get some Orajel.
Sometimes I hate Wal-Mart. Last night I loved it - not really because I had some sort of epiphany that Wal-Mart is great - but in my typical American Fast Food culture mindset, Wal-Mart was the carrier of the cure to my little drilling men-induced insomnia. I applied the Orajel and drifted to sleep. All day today, nothing helped this pain in my tooth. I called a dentist and thankfully was able to get in at two o'clock. I was surprised because for some reason all the dentists in the world take off work on Fridays. After my x-ray was taken by this big machine that looks like one of those tennis-ball shooters on American Gladiators, I sat waiting in a chair reading about Will Smith. I was reading - not the chair. Finally this dentist arrived and asked me what the problem was. I wanted to say, "You tell me," but I didn't and gave him a brief history of my toothache. He then leaned me back in the chair, poked my tooth, raised me back up and said, "Well, if what I am seeing and hearing is right, you're going to either need a root canal or get your tooth extracted." He explained some of the logistics of why this would be necessary and told me to come back on Monday to go through with this procedure. I then explained to him that I am waiting for this dental discount policy to go through, which is basically dental insurance for the lower class, of which he had no idea about and I continued that I absolutely cannot afford to pay for dental work of that caliber. This is what got to me: he proceeded to look me up and down with these eyes that screamed, "Yeah right, you can't pay for it, you little rich Baylor snob. Why don't you just ask daddy." I then replied verbally, "Look, I'm independent - there is no way I can pay for this right now." His response was a shrug on the shoulders, a roll of the eyes, and "fine."

Doctors seem to respond that way a lot - as if I was making thirty grand a year and was choosing to spend my money on cars and women other than important things like dental insurance. Needless to say, he forgot to tell me that I had an infection which I found out later from the receptionist, only because I asked why I had to get two prescriptions filled. So now, here I sit doped up on Hydrocodone, tooth still aching, trying to get in touch with these discount dentist people, wishing I made thirty grand a year. I heard a standard set of pliers from Lowe's can be really effective...

The Audacity of Postmodern Politics

2007-01-23T20:25:00.001-08:00

"Obama was on Oprah this morning."

"Who's that?"

"One of the democratic primary hopefuls in 2008. He's a flaming liberal..."

I overheard this comment this past weekend while at a friend's wedding in Houston. Delivered from a middle-climbing-upward class businessman in his mid-twenties who regularly attends church and enjoys reaping the benefits of his wife's pharmaceutical sales job, I immediately thought of a snide remark to fire back. But then again, I've never been one to support a "flaming liberal."

I've been following Senator Obama's journey to begin a presidential sprint over the past several months. I read the media reports, view his website, listen to his Podcast (which is a brilliant way to connect to people in this new age of technology), and stay updated with what his opponents are saying. Though several things have peaked my curiosity concerning his platform and policies, there is one characteristic of his politics which has currently resembled equilibrium on a pan and beam scale. That is his honesty. Barack Obama emits a new flare to what most moderate Americans find refreshing and unfortunately insatiable. Well, maybe the thirst for authenticity is quenchable, but by all means are the American people thirsty. For a large part, we have forgotten what it tastes like to have a man running for office who longs for the extremes of partisanship to provide a few more connections bridging the Tigris and Euphrates.

I think this honesty is a result of a move in our nation toward Postmodern politics. Now, before one writes me off as a pluralistic torpedo, I must qualify that not every characteristic of Postmodernism is valuable and true. I am a fundamentalist in some ways, meaning that I hold to fundamental beliefs of certain values, such as the truth of Jesus Christ revealed by His Holy Spirit through the Word of God. I believe in absolutes, therefore the widely accepted "fundamental view" within Postmodernism that absolutes do not exist is obviously something I disagree with. It's basic, and to avoid rambling about something that could take seventy pages to explain, I'll stick with sounding like a sixth grade teacher to avoid being distracted from the original intent of this post. I'm also just not smart enough to begin a discussion on this new era of politics, but it's exciting to try. If you want a tickling discourse on Postmodern Politics see this link: http://www.gseis.ucla.edu/faculty/kellner/essays/postmodernpolitics.pdf
It's an essay written by Steven Best and Douglas Kellner and is wonderfully researched. Dick Meyer also has an interesting article on Bush's "Postmodern Politics" here http://http:/www.cbsnews.com/stories/2005/06/21/opinion/meyer/main703351.shtml, which attempts to label Bush's actions as Postmodern because he "isn't worried about anything here in Washington, D.C." Meyer fails at giving a concise definition of Postmodern politics, so in part, I will too. Basically, modern politics included post-enlightenment ideals such as universally held values and the common rights of human individuals. Everyone thought that having these ideals in the first place made us an altruistic people with nothing but prosperity and freedom for all to be attained. Then happened WWII and we all realized that just having ideals doesn't solve war, bring justice to the racially oppressed, and give women the same rights that men enjoy. Thus a new era of politics emerged to bring, in one example of many, "another form of affirmative postmodern politics [that] rejects traditional modern politics and attempts at large-scale social transformation, in favor of piecemeal reforms and local strategies.This is the position of Foucault, Lyotard, and Rorty, all of whom reject a global politics of systemic change in favor of modifications at the local level designed to enhance individual freedom and progressive change (Best, Kellner. 3.)" Back to Barack...

The point is this: there have been two different occasions in recent weeks that have sparked death sentences from Republicans, defense and sweat from Democrats, and curious skepticism from those in between which have proved an accurate example of why we are now in and will probably be more influenced in the next election by Postmodern politics.
The first drama is when Senator Obama was criticized for having tried cocaine in his younger years, an incident he readily admits. I was caught off guard and pleasantly surprised when I found out that this dirt which certain party-goers were trying to "unearth" was already available at the consumer’s fingertips. What's different is that this juicy bit of meat was found in a book written by Obama himself. It becomes somewhat difficult to lambaste an opponent when the mud you try to sling has already been smeared onto your opponent...by themselves. The following link is to a story in the Washington Post that summarizes the controversy: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/01/02/AR2007010201359.html. The second, more recent story includes a scandal that Barack Obama was allegedly (especially according to Fox News) educated at a radical Muslim school known as a Madrassa while his parents were living in Indonesia. Well, apparently a reporter from CNN got the scoop and returned with news that Obama actually was not educated in this type of environment. http://www.cnn.com/2007/POLITICS/01/22/obama.madrassa/index.html
The climax: "Obama has noted in his two books, 'Dreams From My Father' and 'The Audacity of Hope,' that he spent two years in a Muslim school and another two years in a Catholic school while living in Indonesia from age 6 to 10 (CNN.com)."

You see, Obama is appealing to a Postmodern age - and he's doing it with candor and vulnerability. Both controversial stories have already been admitted…by the culprit. Modern politicians, the politicians you and I are used to, have an ideal that they want to push through their platform. Take abortion, for example. The last thing a candidate who staunchly opposes abortion wants to have known is that somewhere along the line, they were somehow involved in an abortion. So they hide it, only to be dug up and slung at them later. This is the story of pride and trying to hide your own sin. I have plenty of personal experiences of why covering up my sin ends up killing me in the long run. I would know.

That is why Obama is a breath of fresh air. As his spokesman Robert Gibbs says, "I believe what the country is looking for is someone who is open, honest and candid about themselves rather than someone who seems endlessly driven by polls or focus groups." I agree. Instead of getting caught in a mire of face-painting and modern vernacular in attempts to pushing the agenda of his own political party, Obama is attacking his new presidential race with beating the opponents at their own game. The American people can relate to such honesty. Not because the American people are always honest - but humans, designed by their Creator, have a "fundamental" desire for truth. We are no longer looking for perfection in our politcians - that is modern, and that is false. We now know that we who judge others will in turn be judged, no matter how pretty we look or how "moral" our platform is. We've been burned by bi-partisanship and want a fresh voice to bring in a bridge of unity. Boy, that doesn’t sound cliché. If Obama keeps up the honesty and responds to mud slinging with humility and grace, we might just see an African American as our next president.

In conclusion, with this I am not saying that I agree with all Obama's policies, that he is the best candidate for the next presidency, or that I will definitely vote for him. As with all politicians, we'll see. We don't know what's going to come up in the future, what's hiding under the floor, or who's to blame for things we know nothing about. Postmodern politics includes this type of discussion - a discussion that avoids freeze-dried banter and brings up the issues that matter to those who are so willing to be radically different that they refuse to be labeled by an elephant or a donkey.

Please feel free to comment.

Keep the Hegemony to Yourself, Castiglioni.

2007-01-23T16:01:00.000-08:00

I'm just going to go ahead a predict that this will never come to the states...or at least Texas.

Bad idea Milan.

Marni: Leggings are the new must-have(FWD)Updated: 2007-01-22 14:38
Milan - Now I know there are many out there who will think I have lost it when I write that a key, new must-have for men this coming fall will be a pair of leggings to be worn outside, not just in, the house, but that was the big message at the debut Marni men's runway show this morning in Milan.
Leggings made of microfiber cotton and wool, shown in violet, forest green and Milan fog gray, all of them with stirrup straps, except of course for a couple of them cut above the knee, accompanied half the looks in this poetic, polished and unexpected collection.
These leggy knits were paired with mercerized cotton jerkins, snug little Rude Boy with manners jackets and Two Tone era skinny ties ? a big Milan trend. Marni shoes were also real winners, knobby workerist boots in bottle green or metallic gray with subtle strips of contrasting color like burgundy.
"Unconventional but sophisticated," smiled Consuelo Castiglioni, Marni's Creative Director, backstage after the show.
One of several smart women setting the fashion agenda in Milan ? don't forget Miuccia, Donatella or Silvia ? Consuelo has been a major force in women's fashion for nearly a decade. Arguably no designer has a more devoted following among card-carrying fashionistas, editors, critics, stylists and PR folk, than Castiglioni. After just three seasons in men's wear she looks poised to extend her style hegemony into the masculine world.
That said, I know a lot of guys who wear leggings around the home to watch DVDs, lounge around before Premiership games or surf the Internet. But actually on the street, never mind into a nightclub or bar? Yet, the truth is that leggings are way more comfortable than pants and that if we fellows were not all so uptight and worried about our status we would have all begun wearing them a long time ago. So hats off to Castiglioni, and on with the leggings.

It's a New Beginning

2006-12-01T15:49:00.000-08:00

I've decided to begin updating my Blogsite again.

MY NEW ADDRESS IS

http://www.jcritz.blogspot.com

Check it out:

New, updated, awesome.

Pictures From LA

2005-11-04T19:04:00.000-08:00

Top: Holly, Luke and Lauren on the sand (same context as the firsbee throw below).
Next: Open window from the Getty Center. We went to the Getty Museum one morning in the middle of the week to spend time with Jesus. It was a very life-giving experience. We spent several hours alone, praying for LA, meditating, evaluating art. I have a painting above that the Lord used to speak some different truths to me about the crucifixion.
The next one is a picture of the girls who went on the trip: Holly, Kim, Genesis, Lauren and Mary Kay.
The one below that is of Genesis praying for LA at the Griffith Observatory. We spent some time interceding for the city from up there.
The last pic is another one of the Getty Center.

Pictures From L.A.

2005-10-27T21:49:00.000-07:00

Top picture is of my friend Luke Wilson (not the famous guy) who was on the team. He provided a healthy amount of comic relief and is a natural evangelist as well. The second is Luke and I looking out into the Pacific Ocean.

Third one down is a picture of some of my teammates (John Storm, Genesis, Kim and Lauren) at the famous Diddy Riese. They serve ice cream sandwiches, which consist of a scoop of ice cream in between two big homemade cookies, for one dollar!

The next cheesy one is of me touching the Pacific for the first time in my life. It was funny because Luke and I were down there on the beach trying to get good shots of us with the water while the girls were up on the sand playing frisbee and goofing off. After realizing the awkwardness of this backward situation, we quickly abandoned the photo shoot.

Fourth Photo: Clark and myself in front of my house in Waco.

Goodbye first week

2005-09-09T13:27:00.000-07:00

The first week of ATS ended today. We spent the week focusing on the character of God, hearing teachings from the Pastoral Staff which focused on the Father Heart of God, the grace of God and how all of that relates to us as individuals. I have been so encouraged on a number of different levels, but concerning the teaching, I was specifically comforted and excited that they began this ten-month pursuit with focusing on who God is. The number one importance was so effectively expressed as knowing who God is and choosing right now to believe and trust in His character. Plain and simple: it's all about Him; not how much ministry we can do or how zealous we are or what we think we can accomplish for Jesus. The natural response to knowing God's heart and being able to receive His grace and love is humility. Brokenness is almost unavoidable. The environment is amazingly nurturing and instead of feeling criticized or evaluated, I have felt so welcome and loved. I'm looking forward to what lies ahead.

I found out last week that I will be going to Los Angeles for my fall outreach. The ATS class splits up into different teams: Chicago, Los Angeles, Knoxville, Portland and Seattle. These are some of the church plants of Antioch Ministries International that are here in the states. I'm really excited about L.A. because we do not have a church there yet, so it will be somewhat of a pioneering trip to the area. There is something really adventurous about going into uncharted land that I really enjoy (come on, Socotra!), so God-willing, we will have the grace to know His heart for the people of L.A. and how He wants to reach them. The trip is from October 1 - 9.

So, please pray for me that first, I would live a lifestyle of obedience through intimacy with Jesus and that God would receive all the glory through my delight in Him; that our whole class would be transformed more into the image of Christ and that all our junk and issues and problems would be left at the feet of Jesus; that, in faith, all the finances that I am still in need of would be provided.

Thanks for everyone's support.

Photos of My House

2005-09-06T20:25:00.000-07:00

These are photos that were taken of the guys in my D-House. This is just an example of all the fun we have together.

Waco Doesn't Get Cool Until November

2005-08-22T00:06:00.000-07:00

Just a footnote to all of those who have seen the pictures below:

I was not in a huge play where some popular public photos were taken and displayed on a downtown billboard in Dallas. These were taken for an MCC production over a year ago. Not a big deal. I know it's dumb that I put pictures of myself on here, but I did it in an effort to learn how to post pictures online. And if I'm going to post pictures, they may as well be these. But thanks for the flattery, Mark. I thought only one person read this blog - John Ernst Schellhase.

Update: I would like to see this blog become a place where I can update my journey through ATS and abroad so that people who are following my journey by prayer and support can have a place to read what is currently happening.

So I will try to do that on an occasional basis.

Peace

Macbeth

2005-08-03T21:59:00.000-07:00

These are images from Macbeth in which I played Malcolm in April 2004. These shots were wonderfully captured by photographer Richard Franks (a1digitalphotos.com).

HopeArts Festival 2005

2005-08-03T21:33:00.000-07:00

Performing Arts I
July 16, 2005

After vomiting that poorly-written novella onto the screen down below, this will be a shorter entry on the performing arts part of the festival I attended in Austin. Thank God this trip was much more relaxing and short than the first excursion. Again, I had no idea what to expect upon completing our (my roommate Camren joined me) journey to Crockett High School PAC, with this being a “Christian” arts festival. Which now, after so many times of writing that, it looks as though I think Christians are incapable of making good art. This is not so. I am well aware that some of the best art ever created was by people who followed Jesus. It is just that in our religious teams, art seems to be something which should promote explicit ideas. Contrary to this, I don’t believe that there is such a thing as Christian and non-Christian art. Art must have an artist. The artist is the creator, so the art is a production/result of what is inside the artist. I do find it funny that for some reason, I have a stereotype of Episcopalians as all being iconophiles. Kind of random, I know, but I began to notice that most of the studies I have read on the redemptive nature of art have been authored by some sort of fellow with Anglican roots. Interesting. And somewhat of a misconception I’m sure. This performing arts segment of the arts festival was delightful and rewarding; an ideal retreat from everyday life.

The entire evening consisted of four movement pieces, four musical performances, one monologue and one solo percussion effort. The musical performances were, for the most part, exceptionally executed. One of the outstanding musicians was a man named Paul Finley (www.paulfinleymusic.com). His strumming on the guitar was like a surgeon taking on the most crucial operation of his life. No singing was involved; only the mellow voice of the copper being strummed and the rhythmical taps of his fingers against hollow wood. It was beautiful. His sound/style is close to that of Michael Card and Phil Keaggy. The monologue, performed by Deborah Leighton, was a compilation of pieces from Shakespeare’s Tempest and Auden’s The Sea and the Mirror. I was disappointed in lack of theatre performed throughout the event, but was glad to see at least one dramatic recital.

The most inspiring and beneficial performances were the dances. My favorite was a routine entitled Tied in Knots, featuring Annette Christopher, Ashley De Palmero, and Angela Mooney. It opened with soft, orchestrated melodies and a back-lit bluish scrim. The first half of the dance was in complete silhouette, showcasing a mixture of classical and modern ballet. Halfway through, lights came up and revealed the three women dressed in a burgundy sheer which resembled leafy rags hanging off their desperate bodies. Throughout the routine, the dancers moved in an amazingly cultured and experienced way, masquerading a sense of livid independence by expressing a deeply communal, modern ecclesia. The structure seemed to move from a place of fear and darkness into light and hope, then returning to the blue hue of the unknown. I marveled at the trained choreography and overall, Tied in Knots was compositionally breathtaking. I’ve seen professional routines that do not compare. In the program, a footnote for Knots read:

This dance imagines what the relationship between a person and their fears might look like. It then moves toward a heartfelt theme; the longing for a freedom not yet attained.

HopeArts Festival 2005

2005-07-24T20:26:00.000-07:00

The Ragamuffin Film Festival
July 14, 2005

For several weeks, I had been looking forward to attending this arts festival, hosted by Hope Chapel, after several visits to the engaging website which is featured in the "links" column. On Thursday the 14th, four friends of mine and I set off for a voyage to Austin, "the Live Music Capital of the World" as one friend stated. I'm not sure if that is true or not, but regardless, it sounds enticing. This was my first trip to Austin, and to be vulnerable, I must confess that there was a rush of adrenaline with the idea of experiencing a new city. These are the things I heard about Austin:

1) It was artistic, and for that reason, I should love it.
2) There was lots to do.
3) I would like it more than Dallas.
4) It is full of liberals, and for that reason, I should love it.

However, being a liberal in Texas means that you think Jim Crowe was a mean guy and being a conservative in Texas has the equivalent juxtaposition value as being a spoon among ladles. You want liberal, go to Colorado Springs - or Europe. Anyway, all this to say that prior to heading down, I was capped with intrigue, culture and experience, which means I just had a lot of romantic expectations. The actual trip was heinous and included a lot of frustrating incidents, but that is not the purpose of this entry, so I will shortcut to an actual reviewing of the film. Because of some other frustrating developings beyond my control, we were so late to the festival that we only got to see one film.

Frisbee: The Life & Death of a Hippie Preacher
David di Sabatino (Lake Forest, CA)

Going to Austin to see a “Christian” film festival did not manufacture very high expectations in my mind. To my pleasant surprise, this documentary was one of the most powerful, penetrating indie films I have seen. The film covers the story of a “hippie-turned-preacher” named Lonnie Frisbee. Lonnie was a hippie in the 1960’s who was heavily involved in the hard drug and hard sex scene when he had an “encounter” with God, then became an influential preacher who reached his hands into the unloveables of society – hippies. What was strangely impacting was how the Holy Sprit seemed to show up when he talked, thus marking him as the new man to have involved in your church. It turns out that it was Lonnie who helped start the Jesus movement, the Vineyard movement, the new rise of Pentecostalism in America, and other well-known denominations. He was the one who “brought” this fresh encounter with the Living God into meetings all across the West Coast. So why don’t we hear of this man who ran in circles with the denominational elite; this hippie zealot who began a movement surging well into the 21st Century? Lonnie’s struggle with homosexuality was exposed well into the years of his ministry, which shocked and disturbed the leaders of these ministries, sending tremors through their communities. Sabatino proceeds to expose the cover-up process that some of the organizations have attempted. One ministry that he harpoons is Vineyard. According to the film, the leaders of this church sect attempted to wipe out the name of Lonnie Frisbee form any of their history, canceling him from influence. Most of the leaders who helped and knew Lonnie, and whose churches Lonnie was elemental in starting, have rejected him as a pioneer or even a part of the blessings they now enjoy. Lonnie died from AIDS in 1993, which Sabatino portrays as the reason to him being erased. Sabatino successfully exposes the controversial and timely issue of the role of homosexuality in the church, asking the questions that everyone is wondering, but too afraid to ask.

The film was marvelous. I have yet to see a “Christian” indie film so well made and so well conceived. The story-telling kept the viewer enticed and engaged the entire time. It successfully followed conventional documentary-making (which is rare for Christian produced films), including emotionally raw interviews and tough thematic content. Sabatino portrayed Lonnie as man who truly desired to obey Jesus and fulfill his calling, but was brought down by a struggle that remained hidden for years. On my way back to Waco, my friends and I spent some tender minuets processing the film. One friend explained that while he applauded the film’s attempt honor this man and shed light on a sensitive issue, he did not agree with the way it stirred controversy without bringing resolution of conflict – especially with the division it might bring within the church. I thought about this and concluded that while the purpose of the church includes being a common unit, the purpose of film includes the ability to arouse questions and, from my perspective, urge the audience to find the solution. It was actually a warm surprise that the film kept its conventional structure by not trying to make a fuzzy ending for a Christian audience. After sitting there watching this man’s life play out before me, I realized that Lonnie (and I know this was the goal of the film) was a man who loved Jesus. His sin was a stronghold, something we all have, and he did not know how to get free. One man being interviewed said something to the extent of, “Lonnie was authentic. He was authentic in that he loved Jesus and desired to fulfill the calling which God had given to him and he influenced so many people in the Kingdom of God. He was also authentic in that he was a screwed up human being who had a struggle with sin and did not know what to do about it.” This film was a beautiful picture of the types of people that God uses to further His purposes. The film concluded in interviews, urging Christians that it is time to allow people who deal with homosexuality to enter a church building without judgment or scorn. Why should we reach out to prisoners, adulterers and liars and ignorantly neglect homosexuals? I have been contemplating a thought that was reinforced upon viewing this film: There is an obvious problem when the church lags behind in addressing social issues. I realized that for twenty-plus years, secular culture had been addressing the issue of homosexuality with the church immediately building a wall in order to win some sort of pointless culture war and show “the world” that they’re going to hell. Only now is the church finally addressing this issue as relevant to Christians. Only now is the church beginning to realize that this sin is among those sitting in the pews as well. Only now is the church realizing that a response of fear, hatred and judgment towards people who openly deal with this is not the right answer. Hopefully, the church will come to place of influence to the culture. What would have happened if the church was the first to address the issue of homosexuality, Post-Modernism, and other issues which did not somehow shoot past the church? There can be much more said here, and I know there are sensitive circumstances which surround this topic that were not touched on, but this serves as a groundwork for how I saw this film and the goal it so successfully reached. If you have a chance, see this film. It was timely and provocative, leaving lots of room for discussion. It was good art. It was beautiful art.

Check out the website to the project in the "links" column.

I will soon write an entry on the Performing Arts segment of the arts festival which occurred on July 16.

Good News From the Wacoland

2005-07-05T16:46:00.000-07:00

Just a bit of news from Waco that JUSTIN JAKSHA AND JENNIE SHERMAN ARE ENGAGED!!!!!! They got engaged last weekend in Little Rock and I had the priveledge of celebrating it with them after the fact in LR. It is really exciting for me because these are some of my two best friends (Justin is my roommate) and it has been such a blessing getting to walk with them. Anyway, I'll probably write sometime later...

Blog...What?

2005-05-08T22:26:00.000-07:00

Okay, this is the first time I have tried or wanted to create a website where someone can read every action and thought I have produced. Actually, that won't happen. But I will keep this page updated with thoughts and, well, updates. Feel free to post.

Peace