My Christina's World

The joy of great art is that one is able to make of it what they want. For example: the Andrew Wyeth painting Christina’s World is supposedly a testament to a young woman’s physical depravity, as we see her the farthest she’s ever been from her home; sitting alone in the middle of a field staring back at her farm house. For the artist this painting was intended to evoke feelings of pity, sadness and injustice that such should be the fate of this young woman. However, when I look at this painting I am invigorated. From the moment I saw it in poster form hanging from my brother’s bedroom wall I became subtly obsessed by it. I visited the original at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City and bought the poster myself which hung on the wall in every room I’ve lived in since.
To be honest, I don’t care what Wyeth’s vision for this painting was, apart from that he wished to create something beautiful. The painting makes me happy, I can’t really explain it any better. I want to be Christina, as I’ve constructed her in my own mind; a beautiful, peaceful, content woman enjoying a few stolen hours, sitting alone in a vast expanse of Nebraskan prairie. Even when I learned of the painting’s inspiration: a young crippled woman, and the beginning of her crawl back to her home, I was only heartbroken for a few moments. I realized that it didn’t matter to me because she wasn’t the Christina of my mind.
I wonder what the painter would think of my interpretation of this work; whether or not he would be disappointed that I don’t appreciate the painting for the reasons that inspired its creation. Perhaps this is actually the mark of great art. It opens its doors to interpretation and allows one to interact with it in the way they choose, or in the way that’s natural for them.

Want

Maybe what I am really into is this idea of want. What do we want, what do I want, what do you want? And taking that a step further, does a realization of this help you achieve it? Probably it does, but what of all of us who know, not exactly what we want, but what we don’t. How different are these two? Seems that they are very different. One rests upon action, the other inaction. How in control of these are we? How capable are we actually of knowing what that want is and then going through with it?

I find people who seem to know what they want fascinating. I wonder if they are actually like me and just have vague inklings of desire, or if they are concrete. There have been times when after receiving what I thought I wanted I am left unsatisfied or that it was something else altogether that I didn’t even realize I’d been yearning for. The unseen unknown desire. Personally the wants are too abstract to know how to pursue or will the result of other progressions. For example, I want an outdoor shower. This sounds trivial and it it, but I know that I want it, and I know that when I get it I will love it. This makes me feel good to know, and I can learn something about myself through this want. I also know that I want to . . . . waiting waiting. I wrote that expecting something to pop into my head but nothing did. Maybe I need a list of wants, something to be constantly added to at different moments, when something pops into my head. And not necessities like: I want to eat or I want to go to the bathroom, but real wants,

Future wants. I don’t really like that term but it makes sense here.

Characters from movies and books have been fascinating me lately as well. I cant get the Joker out of my head. To the point where I just googled “Joker essays” and have spent the last hour reading someone’s blog alluding to the defining moment when he truly became the antagonist to Batman. The blog stated it was some edition of a comic where his face is fixed into a grin, that he can’t help but look the way he does. Pretty interesting actually. You can read about it here. What makes the Joker so intoxicatingly complex and compelling to me is his assurance at what he wants. He doesn’t have inner-strife like Batman. He does what he wants and he is who he is. It just so happens that what he wants and who he is, is chaos. He is not so appealing b/c he’ll do anything, its because the anything is what he wants. How I wish I was gifted with this type of peace of mind. I would do anything for it, I have become obsessed with it lately actually. How can I not know what I want? Isn’t that what makes me an individual, what separates me from others? If not entirely, then at least a part of what sets me apart, and everyone else from me. What then can I say about my individuality and about my personhood when I can’t even figure out for myself what I want. Or maybe I’m doing it right now, that’s a thought. Sitting here wasting my time writing on this.

Today my friend asked me if I wanted to write. And I answered him that I want to want to be a writer. Does that make sense? I want to have that drive, to feel that need for something, whatever it is. I want the Joker’s confidence. But now what right? I’ve established that I don’t know, what’s next. And maybe it is here that I am the most lost, or want to be the most careful. I think this experience is not one that I am alone in feeling. I know there are some who just know right, or least they claim they do, who knows maybe they’re lying. But there are those who get into high school and they know they want to be a doctor, or that they want to play in majors. The lucky ones who don’t weigh themselves down with excess thought, it only gets you into trouble anyway. And there’s the issue for me, I have a problem with just doing. Always have, and in some ways I’m thankful for that.

I’ve never done just to do, or rather haven’t made a habit of it. This gets me in trouble but also keeps me sane. I am not sure what I am holding out for though, or if my idea of holding out is a result of cowardice and will be eventually overcome, not by redeeming action, but by fear. I am afraid for the day when I have to, and will be because of that fear. The fear of unknown that pushes you down a path you know you don’t want. This is to be avoided. But then how, and when will I know where that desire is. What it’s burning for. Will is hit me one day? Will I be blessed with a certainty of purpose that will guide me the rest of my day or will I continue to wait for a revelation that will never come? This is where I am right now. Its not a bad place to be, but a strange one, I’ve been here a while, and its getting old.

Old Stuff, But still kinda new

The following posts from September 12 were taken from previous entries. The go in order from earliest to latest, starting from the first post at the beginning. they are dated accordingly

Free Free Free

Originally written - August 1, 2007

I am not feeling very free lately. I am feeling as though most of what I am doing falls under the “have to” category, which is a recipe for a semi-freedom-less existence. That sounds pretty dramatic and I certainly don’t mean to be a complainer (or maybe I do. It is nice, after all, to unload all your shit every once in a while). This idea of freedom is one that has haunted me for quite some time. We all want to be free to make our own choices right? To have a level of agency in our lives, to feel like we are calling the shots. But this takes for granted first and foremost that we actually know what we want . . . doesn’t it. I know that I can’t speak for everyone, but I don’t really have any idea what I want, I am just sort of guessing these days. Sure there are bits that I am sure of . . . I want love, I want purpose, I want to enjoy each day. But how vague are these desires? Is that the point: that we think we want all these specifics i.e. the right job, the right city, the right gf/bf, when in fact what we are really after is something much broader.

I had a conversation with a friend a few months ago and we were really getting in to what each of us wanted, and they were surprisingly simple. We wanted to be loved, to love someone in return and to be free in our choices and decisions, to feel as though our lives were not being lived by any one other than ourselves. This might sound selfish or self-absorbed, but I don’t think it is. And I don’t think it’s too much to ask. I was watching an extremely forgettable movie last night that had few redeeming qualities, but one line really stuck with me. It’s a pseudo-philosophic question that sounds a bit contrived, but I believe deserves to be mulled over for a bit. It’s something like this . . . .

The only question worth asking yourself is whether or not you should commit suicide.

Now let me be frank and forward when I say that this question should be not taken literally, but rather analyzed for what it’s really asking. According to my interpretation of this question, we should not be seriously contemplating suicide or viewing life as a disposable privilege but rather, assuming you would in fact choose life, what that entails. To me, answering that you do, in fact, want to live means a number of things . . . It means that in your estimation life is more joy than pain and more happiness than sorrow. It means that I am allowing all the bad things in the world to affect me, b/c I believe that the good outweighs them.

This is not to say that I believe in general goodness, because I do not. This isn’t a pessimistic view of the world, but rather an open acknowledgement of humanity’s general shortcomings and failures. No doubt this sounds fairly defeatest and perhaps it is Perhaps it is this acknowledgement of defeat which enables us to experience freedom. I don’t mean freedom in the sense of American as a free country, but rather in one’s personal freedom from self and from externally produced, yet inwardly experienced expectation. Why do we feel these “have to’s”? What inside us feels the need to produce, to fulfill others and our own agendas? Certainly drive is not an evil concept, but perhaps we’ve been deceived in the world’s claim that it produces contentment.

I have been told for as long as I can remember, by friends, parents and teachers that I have the skill and the brain to produce in school as I should, yet for some reason I have been unable to muster the drive necessary to excel. What will I gain from this drive that I could not experience with out it. . . . an interesting question. My mother has been famous for saying things like “The more you do now, or the better you do, the more options are opened for your future.” In some ways she is absolutely right. By performing well in school, I open myself up for a wider range of opportunities after I graduate, thus giving me more freedom . . . right? But what of living for myself, what of the years I spend toiling away for the chance or opportunity that will make my life? What if it doesn’t live up to its promise, what if, at the end of it all I am left unsatisfied, having been robbed a chance to really live in the now by obsessing over the future.

Where is the line between planning for the unknown, but continuing to actively pursue joy. Because after all isn’t that really what I want. Above all else, don’t I just want to be happy? Don’t I just want someone to love me and for me to love them back? Don’t I just want to spend time with these people and to bask in their returned affection? Right now, the next sentence I write could be something to do with knowing that this isn’t all to life . . . but isn’t it. Aren’t these the moments we passively plan for. At the root of our desire, won’t we find other people? Maybe our problem isn’t not taking life seriously enough . . . its taking it to seriously. Maybe we would be better served asking ourselves what we’re really after, what our life’s aim actually is.

All I can honestly say right now is that I want joy. This is what I want. There are many facets that go into this end, but above everything else I want this freedom. Freedom from my self, freedom from my own expectation and freedom to actually allow love to transform my life.

Joseph the Stud

Originally written - January 29, 2007

Alright . . .it’s been a while. Let’s see what I got. . . . How about some of the particulars, and then I’ll go from there. See if any of these subjects tickle my proverbial fancy.

School, school school school. I don’t want to talk about this at all. I have 1.5 classes that actually seem cool and all the others seem terrible, but only in the “I hate science, I can’t believe I have to take this shit” sort of way. I am currently enrolled in 2 “ologies” and 1 “ography”, not really cool or fun at all. I also have two English classes and an African American lit, which seems legit.

But, as previously stated talking about school isn’t really fun for me, especially when I don’t have anything mixing me up inside, which brings me to something I want to talk about. A movie I just saw: Children of Men. This movie, as you are probably aware takes place in the future, a world where women have become sterile and there is no one on the earth under the age of 18. There are no babies, no toddlers, no teens (19 year olds don’t count as teens in case you were wondering). First of all, a world with no children would really suck, forgetting for the moment that it could spell doom for our species, it just wouldn’t be pleasant. I don’t care who you are, or what you pretend to say to other people, everyone loves children. Maybe not all the time, but you’d be hard pressed to find someone who doesn’t enjoy watch a little kid do something that little kids do i.e. pee on a nearby tree b/c they don’t know any better. Everyone would love that, I know that I love it when my nephew does it, I laugh every time I see it. You’re soulless if you don’t (Christiaan? Hahahaha)

Anyway, the movie centers around Theo, a middle-aged man who seems to be disconnected from the world around him, and generally apathetic to its state. But ah, there’s hope to be found. In a young woman named Kee (aptly), a baby is growing; a baby that proves that hope still exists for humanity. I am going to spare the details of the movie for two reasons. One – I really don’t feel like giving you a summary, that would be boring for you and especially boring for me. Two – the movie is worth watching on its own.

I will say this about the movie, the baby lives. But there really isn’t a doubt that Kee will give birth and somehow, someway will survive. You aren’t convinced all the time, but with movies like this you know it can’t end with no sense of hope. I was convinced for another reason as well . . . it became clear to me a little way into the movie that this film was a sort of modern or hyper-modern retelling of the birth of Jesus, centered around Joseph (Theo). I have always had a bit of a difficult time with Christmas in the Christian sense. Of course it’s a nice story, but others around me seem to be a bit more affected by the birth of our supposed savior that I am, or should say, had been.

This could be due in some part to the fact that I have heard the story so so so so so many times, It was drilled into my head at St. Mark’s Episcopal Church in New Canaan (my hometown), and I was even forced by my parents to take place in the Christmas pageant. I remember one year being given a box, wrapped up very nicely which I was supposed to deliver to the front of the Church during the pageant as a symbol of Christ’s gift of everlasting life. I made sure to save the box, which I subsequently gave to my brother Christiaan for Christmas a few days later. He was stunned that I had bought him a present and had wrapped it so nicely, however when he opened it up to find nothing inside I think he was clued in to the fact that I had neither bought him a present nor wrapped it (a lot like this Christmas). But I think he got found it slightly amusing when I told him that it was the gift of eternal life. I must say it was a brilliant move on my part, and proved to be only the first step in a long line of under par gifts others have received on my behalf. I am not sure what genre of gift giver or receiver I would most relate with, but you can read about some of my favorites in a previous blog.

Anyway, back to the issue at hand. Due to my upbringing and the number of times that I have heard or read the nativity story, I have never felt the wonder and awe that some of my family and friends have. My mom cries every Christmas, except maybe this one where she spent the majority of the service asleep (hahahahaha). Let it be known that my mom is a bit of a crier anyway, but there is something about the birth of Jesus that just floors her, and I get a little pissed sometimes when I see her crying. Not because I am mad she is crying, but because I wish it would invoke some of the same feelings in me that it does in her.

This is where Children of Men helped me, and could potentially help you. Obviously the story is different. It takes place more than two thousand years later in a world torn apart (even more than ours) by war, corruption and the knowledge that humanity is going extinct. But this is where the movie hits you, or hit me: Theo. Theo Theo. Any Greek scholars out there?? (theos = god, I think). But the biblical allusions are much more widespread than I care to dive into (or could . . . I am too dumb, and don’t have the monetary capabilities of re-watching the film over and over). Theo, as the Joseph character, brought me close to tears by the time the film was over. I mean could you imagine you were Joseph??? Holy Fuck. You’re starting to see this woman, and she seems pretty nice, above average on the hot-o-meter with a decent rack. (pure speculation, but you have to think that Mary would have more than up to the charge of nourishing our Lord and Savior. God would have chosen someone equal to the task if you know what I mean) But then out of nowhere she gets preggers!!! WTF, what the fuck?? Then she has the nerve to tell you that an angel told her that she would give birth to the savior of the world. I would have told her to put a damp washcloth on her forehead and lie down for a day or two. I mean you’re a carpenter, skating by (ha!) on bottom half wages. You aren’t married to this woman (which was a no-no back in the day), and for all intents and purposes she is totally crazy, and so are you if you chose to stay by her side.

But Joseph is no ordinary guy. You could guess that if God chose Mary due in some part to her endowment than he must have chose Joseph because he had gigantic balls. Let’s get serious; Joseph is underrated, completely underrated. This is partly due to those crazy Catholics and their Mary worship (I’m just kidding, I love Catholics and I love Mary too) but regardless, Joseph gets no respect. He certainly didn’t get any respect from me either until I watched this movie. And it was Theo that did it for me. This guy is the absolute man. He’s not some swash-buckling (is this only reserved for pirates?? Can we get a ruling), gun toting bad bass. He’s a confused, mixed up man living on his guts and a faith and hope that this woman can be saved. He doesn’t know how it will happen, but he knows that this baby is humanity’s only hope. You have to wonder what Joseph was thinking . . . Herod’s killing the first borns and here I am riding on an f-ing donkey in the middle of nowhere when my un-sexed up wife starts going into labor. The baby, this savior is then born in a filthy barn, ill equipped for any child, and certainly not the triumphant entrance of the Prince of Heaven.

This is our God, this is our baby. Born from two scared shitless teenagers with a world of hate, anger and despair slowly creeping in on them. This is why this movie rocked me so much. I knew they were going to live, I knew the baby would make it . . . but only if a couple miracles happened along the way. This is what we can expect from God. It’s gonna work out, sometimes things will get fucked up, and sometimes we’ll need a few miracles, but when it really comes down to it . . . there He is, ready to do what it takes for all of us poor bastards. I quote Drugs Delaney from Outside Providence when I say: “Fuckin’ God man .. . . He’s alright.”

Think about it for a second. Really think about it. It actually happened. There actually was a person named Joseph. There really was a Mary. And there really was a Jesus. And he was born in a fucking barn. It must have smelled awful. I’ll bet it was cold. I’ll bet they were terrified. I’ll bet they didn’t know what to expect. And I’ll bet they were overjoyed, b/c lying in front of them was a little baby, new born. Crying and cooing, looking around for the first time, and trying to take it all in. This is my God, this is my baby Jesus . . . what a total badass. What an absolute stud. And I’ll bet that for all the doubt, the hardship and the fear that once Joseph saw that little guy he was crying harder than my mom does during our Christmas service. He knew. Theo knew. And to be honest, now a part of me knows. So if I never say it again, I am saying it now: Joseph . . . you’ve got my mark, congratulations on your beautiful baby boy.

Lazy Day, Good Day.

Origianally written - January 9, 2007

Lazy Days. This is one of my favorite songs. It’s by a chick named Leona Naess and sort of chronicles the events and feeling of those days when you don’t have anything to do, anyone to impress, no responsibilities etc. “soak up some lazy days, no one can rain on our parade” blah blah blah. I am having a lazy day right now, and its everything I hoped it could be. It reminds me of Office Space when Peter decides that he isn’t going to go work that day. When asked about what he did he replies: “I did nothing. I did nothing all day, and it was everything I hoped it could be” hahaha, this is hilarious to me. Here is my schedule for today / the next week and a half . . .

930 – 1130 wake up
930ish/1130ish – sometime before 2:00 pm – sort of lay around, drift in and out of sleep / make or go out for breakfast, drink lots of coffee, start the crossword puzzle
2:20 pm – drop off Michi at work /
230 – 6 – I have some options here: on M/W/F – I have from 230 – 6 to work out at the uptown YWCA and then hang out at Dunn Brother’s til Michi is done with work. On T/R – this time is extended from 230 – 830. Today is a Tuesday so I am at May Day’s, another café type place, where I’ll be until around 6ish, then I’ll go start my work out. During my alone time, I try to finish the crossword puzzles (there are two in the star trib. Hooooray!!!), read, write, check email/facebook, and think about how much starting school will suck, but how awesome ultimate will be.
630/830-bedtime – during this expanse of time we’ll get dinner, sit around, go out to a bar, go out to a movie, hang at the house, play trivial pursuit, and really do whatever we want.
Bedtime – this can be from 11pm to after 2am depending on the night. Bedtime is fun b/c I get to go to sleep, and next to someone I love. This is a good thing. That’s why they say bedtime is the best time – actually I just made that up, but I am copywriting it so step off . . . I’m talking about steppin’ off (anyone get the Class Act reference? Probably only smear would get that one, maybe Christiaan but I doubt that he actually reads this. For those of you who don’t know, Class Act is a coming of age story starring Kid and Play, yes THAT Kid and Play, the one’s from House Party. Their identities get switched and they find out that they can be whoever they want to be blah blah. It’s actually a brilliant film full of some extremely quotable lines)

Today is a great day. Yesterday was a great day, and I am hopeful that tomorrow will be more of the same. I love it here, although my perception of what mpls is like may be a bit skewed. You see, the majority of time that I have spent here has been leisure time. I have done very little in this city that hasn’t revolved around two of my loves: Ultimate and my girly. My days this summer were spent very similarly to how they are now with one exception: Michi never had to work, so we would just hang out all day/everyday for the most part, barring the times when I had ultimate stuff or when she got sick of hanging out with me. We’d wake up late, go for walks, drink coffee, play games, drink beer, eat cantaloupe (for those of you who don’t know, few combinations will beat cantaloupe and Pete’s Wicked Ale . . . try it, you’ll be amazed) and go out with friends. I say with 99.5% certainty that I had more fun this summer than you did. This is not meant as a dis, but to stress to you the contentment this summer brought to me on a daily basis. Never before and probably never again (sadly) will I feel such an elongated period of freedom, fun and fancy (alliteration WHAT!). Obviously this period of time brought with it some negatives: most obvious was the lack of money I made due to my lack of employment. I actually HAD a job, but I really hated it. It was incentive based, and I had no incentive, therefore I made very little. Bummer? A little, but I wouldn’t have traded this summer for any amount of money – Truth.

As for truth and contentment . . . it's hard to argue with these when you find them, and find them I believe I have. (that sentence was a grammatical nightmare . . . but remember who’s sovereign here . . . moving on). I would consider myself a happy person. I have been called an emotional roller coaster at times, and rightfully so (I cried twice on Christmas day for example), but all in all I try to make the best of any given situation. The beauty about the time I spend in this city is that the times when I have “to try and make the best of it” are few and far between. I know that it won’t always be like this, and that hard times are always right around the corner, but the feeling I have while here in this city, is one of liberation and contentment. I am very happy today, I am very happy right now. I’ve had a wonderful break up until this moment, and I hope and pray that it will continue in this trend. This coming semester promises to be my most challenging. I am again loading up on credits, while trying to lead my ultimate team to a nationals victory all while being largely separated from the person I love the most. But I am welcoming the challenge. I am sure I won’t be at times . . . and there will be times when I have two papers due tomorrow, a vomit-inducing running workout tonight, and a span of 3 weeks when I haven’t seen the lady . . . but so it goes. Such is life and such is my reality, it certainly could be a lot worse. In fact I would say that 95% of all people polled would say that they would welcome this “challenge” over their personal challenges. I have a good life. I am very blessed and very lucky. I love this city and I am loving life right now. I have truth and I am content . . . for now. We’ll see where this goes.

sometimes competition = bad news

Originally written - January 4, 2007

It’s a strange thing when you realize your faults. I’ve long ago accepted that I am a disaster (as I have probably stated in all of my previous posts), but this was always in a more general sense. It’s a much more difficult and troubling to become aware of your individual vices. For me, one of these was made disturbingly evident last night. I have always been an extremely competitive person, extending from the sports field to the living room playing video games (I have been known to throw and break controllers) to the bar (playing darts, foosball etc.) I want to win. I always want to win, it doesn’t matter who I am playing, where, when or what the game is. I will do whatever it takes to win. That’s actually not true, I don’t, or I should say I try not to cheat. I hate cheaters even more than I hate losing. I have long claimed to my girlfriend (who has experienced my ass-holed-ness in trivial pursuit, which I dominate by the way ahahaha!!) that if every game was based purely on skill that I would never lose. How much of a dickhead am I?? It is for this reason that I hate, or I should say don’t particularly enjoy, dominos. This game is almost purely based on luck and therefore requires no real skill or talent in order to win. I much prefer card games, for despite every game’s dependence on “good cards”, there is a skill element involved. Whether it be bluffing, playing the right card at the right time, speed etc., all card games, accept maybe war (which I’ve never lost at by the way) aren’t purely luck based.

So, if the games I enjoy playing are skill games, and if I am extremely competitive, then there comes a point in every game where I totally lose myself and can think of nothing but winning the game. This has disastrous consequences for my personality and for the people I am playing with or against. For example: while in high school I would play College Football on PlayStation against my friends for hours and hours almost every day after school. I am not lying or bending the truth when I say that I was better than all of my friends in this particular game. I barely ever lost, but when I did, it was not a pretty sight. My good friend Alex Schulten can attest to the repeated shots I gave him in his knees with either my controller or my phone when he would break off a long run, or sack or intercept me. And if I ever happened to lose, I would be in a bad mood the rest of the night. I don’t even want to get into my mariokart/mariotennis debacles. How many N64 controllers do I owe you Burch? But its not always bad.

I am at my best and worst when competing. I love the feeling of giving something my all, which sadly rarely extends to areas outside competition. There is nothing that makes me feel more alive, more human than sprinting or diving after a disc. This is experienced in decreased amounts while playing cards or, in last night’s case, playing the “name game”. There are many things about competition that are positive. It often pushes me to the limit of what I am capable of doing, and sometimes further. I love working hard for my teammates and friends, and knowing that I am doing everything in my power to satisfy them. BUT, there is a very dark and negative side to this competitive spirit, which reared its ugly head last night. In short . . . I acted like a total asshole and took what was supposed to be a fun game and turned it into a screaming contest.

The game we played, as mentioned before, is called the “name game”. In this game each competitor writes the name of three famous people/characters etc. on three pieces of small paper. They then fold the pieces in half and place them in a bowl. There are two teams involved in this game, and each team has 1 minute to describe the person on their piece of paper to their group w/o using any words written down. So say I got “tom cruise” I would say: “he starred in top gun as maverick” then someone (if they weren’t a total idiot) would guess tom cruise and then I would pass the bowl to my next teammate in line and they would begin describing their name to the rest of us. So each team has a minute to do this and they go back and forth until all the names have been used. Each team tallies up the number of names they got, and then places all the names back into the bowl and you begin round two. In round two, you can only use one word and charades to describe the person/character written on the paper, but because the name was already guessed in the last round everyone will hopefully remember it, making it easier. So If I got tom cruise again I would say “maverick” and then begin flying around to trigger the Tom Cruise memory. Get it??? Same rules apply in round two as in round one with each team going at 1 minute intervals until all the names are guessed. In round three, you can’t use any words, only charades, to describe your name. At the end of round three you total up the number of names guessed and whoever has more wins. Pretty simple right?? Well while I was explaining the rules of the game, a number of members on the other team, who had never played before, weren’t paying close enough attention, which led to their misunderstanding of the rules when we got into it. Needless to say, I lost it. I was swearing, screaming and accusing them of cheating nearly every round. No doubt a large reason for this outburst was that my brother was on the opposing team and as anyone who has older siblings can attest to, there is no greater satisfaction than their systematic defeat. But after the game was over (which we did win by the way . . . making a staggering comeback in round three) I was left to ponder my own competitive nature and general prick-ness.

Why the fuck do I care so much about games like that?? Why can’t I just have fun, and enjoy the company of the people I am playing with and against. Obviously in order for games like the one described above to work, people need to try; they need to be competitive. But there is a line that shouldn’t be crossed, and it was this line that I pretty much raped and pillaged. I was an asshole and spent the rest of the night feeling like one. I know that it’s in my personality to desire victory, due in no small amount to my position as the youngest of four athletic, intelligent, competitive brothers. Many a fight has broken out between us whether on the basketball court or the card table. Why do I take this shit so seriously, what about winning or being the best obsesses me so? This doesn’t extend to every area of my life which is interesting. For example, I could give a shit if you get a better grade on the test than I did. I am unfazed. But if there is direct competition b/w you and me, believe that I will do whatever I can to win, and that if I do you’ll hear about it for a while. And if I do happen to lose, I will pout like a little schoolgirl and make excuses as to my demise. A certain pair of Wii boxing match’s highlights these two different states of mind. After beating my buddy Norm I was all gloat and triumph. Yet upon getting destroyed by the lady who was working in the tent, I was pissed (she was a girl after all) and made excuses about how she had more practice etc.

The bottom line is that I am an asshole when it comes to certain competition. I will always love winning and I will always hate losing. I just wish I knew how to do each more graciously. We’ll see. . . .

Understaning Our Need

Originally written - January 2, 2007

So this past week I have been in Winter Park, CO, acting as a leader for a camp called FOCUS (this is an acronym that stands for Fellowship Of Christians in Universities and Schools . . . pretty clever huh?) Let the record state that for those people who crack jokes like: do you focus at FOCUS?, I am done with you. I actually don’t dislike these people, but c’mon, do you really think that was that clever? Do you actually believe that no one has ever made that joke before? Let’s get serious. This happens all the time. My brother’s got a friend at school named Inigo, which immediately made me (and hopefully you) think of:

“My name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die”.

However, knowing that he must get that shit all the time, I refused to make the joke directly to him, and decided instead to mention it in passing or to make fun of all the people who actually believe they were the first to make the connection. A good way to approach this problem is to say to the person: “I bet you get the Princess Bride thing a lot don’t you” or in the FOCUS case “how often do people tell you to focus at FOCUS”. Anyway moving on . . . to my real subject, and issue in mind.

The question is this: when are people convinced that they actually need to be saved?? What triggers this desire for a savior? More directly the question could be asked: what makes people need Jesus? Or think they need him?

The purpose of the camp I just finished is to present the Gospel of Jesus Christ to students in high school. FOCUS’ mission is to make faith relevant to students, and for them to experience the Grace of God through fellowship with leaders and other Christians, worship (praying, singing, dancing, playing etc.), Bible Study and fun. One of the things I love so much about FOCUS is that I have the time of my life whenever I am a part of a program or hanging out with other people who are involved with the ministry. The bottom line for FOCUS is this (obviously with my personal bias): to experience the freedom, liberation, joy, truth and love of Jesus Christ alongside other people. The camp I just attended is known as an evangelical camp (not the terrifying evangelical camps that you hear about or read about, or watch movies about i.e. Jesus Camp) in that it presents the basic tenants of the Christian Faith and allows students the opportunity to accept or refute its claim to truth and its claim to their life. Instead of thrusting or heaving the message of Jesus onto people, such that they feel attacked or put on the defensive, FOCUS allows the truth to do the work itself. If God is real, and Jesus’ claims were true than these are enough, and no coercion or guilt are necessary for people to believe. Truth makes itself evident to people, and in the case of Christianity, I believe its truth speaks for itself.

So, if Jesus’ claims are true and God is, in fact real, than what makes people believe that they need Him. Many of the students that attended this camp hail from the upper crust of America. They attend the best schools, and are the children of wealthy and influential parents. In many ways they are brought up in the lap of luxury, with nearly all of their basic needs provided. (by basic I mean food, shelter, clothing etc.) FOCUS is a ministry designed for private school students (in the way that Young Life is for public school), and is presented with the challenge of proclaiming the necessity of Jesus to people whose needs are largely met. By no means am I declaring that private school students, or wealthier people in general, have no needs but that in a material sense they are usually quite comfortable. They usually have nice meals, big homes, new cars and cash at their disposal. The schools they attend equip them with the tools needed to succeed at the top colleges and universities in the world. These colleges and universities in turn supply them with the education and reputation needed to succeed materially in this world. SO, again the question remains: how do people come to realization that they need the grace of Jesus, especially if they don’t feel like they NEED anything. This is challenge. In the gospel of Matthew Jesus proclaims “that it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God”. The people who he says this to are confused and frustrated asking “Who then can be saved?”. He replies: “With man, this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.” So what’s the point of all of these implications? What does this mean? First I’ll tell you what it doesn’t mean. It doesn’t mean that wealthy people are screwed and that they better sell all their stuff in order to gain salvation, nor does it mean that the students I have spent my time with the last week are doomed. What these verses do imply is that it is very hard for people who are in the “have” to accept their own brokenness and understand their need to be saved.

I have gone on two mission or service trips in my life, to Mexico and the Dominican Republic respectively. In Mexico we built two houses in Juarez for families who, in a material sense, had very little, even when compared to the other poorer people in the area. And in the D.R. we built the second level to a church located in a run down area of Santiago. In both cases I was shocked at the contentment of the people residing in these areas. More than anything else I hear from people returning from these trips is the surprise/shock/ awe they felt when meeting people who had so little, yet were so unbelievably happy. This calls into question, of course, the relation between happiness and possession. So many of us believe that happiness is directly tied to possessions, or to the security that wealth provides. The people who we provided this service for provided me, and the students/leaders who I attended these trips with, a view of true contentment found in Jesus Christ. These people were forced to actually rely on Jesus, and he came through for them. Obviously in these areas the threat of disease, poverty and early death are more real that in upper class America, but the hope that Christ provides for their future and for their immediate reality is enough to supply them with an abundance of joy, such that few wealthy people experience. This is not meant to be a commentary on the virtue of poverty or the vice of wealth. Rich people aren’t fundamentally worse than poor people. We are all in the same place when it comes to our shortcomings, failures and deficiencies. The difference between these two classes is that poorer people are in basic need. Whereas the rich have these provided for, the poorer simply don’t, which fosters the spirit of want, and the realization that God can and does provide hope.

People come to Jesus when they realize how much they need him. And they realize they need him when they don’t have their material needs provided or when they realize how fucked up their lives are. People don’t and can’t come to Jesus, and can’t accept the need they have for His cross until they come to grips with their own brokenness. This brokenness can stem from material, spiritual, psychological need. It can stem from the acceptance of ones own selfishness, cruelty, resentment etc. For me, I am in process of recognizing my own need. As stated in previous blogs, I am coming to terms with how much of an asshole I am and how pitifully short I fall in being the man that I want to be. My life, up until a few months ago carried very few pressures for me. Pretty much everything that I had had been given to me, as far as my basic needs, and I had spent my first four years of college not going to class and living only for myself. I knew that I was messing up, but I just didn’t care enough to try to fix it, or to rely on God to restore it. By no stretch have I completely changed; nor do I believe I ever will. All I can do is trust in Him who has provided me with hope for a better life, packed with meaning, truth and my salvation.

So, it is my understanding that in order for people to realize their need for God, they must realize their own “fucked up-ness” (I am copywriting this term). We are all a disaster, we are all failures, and we all have needs. These are more evident in people who don’t “have”, but still exist in the lives of the wealthy and provided for. Perhaps this is why it easier for people who are poor to approach the Cross. They know they need it. They know that only Jesus will provide hope and meaning for their lives. The wealthy have a more difficult time recognizing need because so many of them are addressed. But no amount of money, no car, no home and no job will no provide them with true meaning and the real hope of Christ. I don’t care who are or where you come from, everyone on earth wants truth and desires meaning: it is carved into our humanity. Possessions don’t provide this, and that’s why Jesus said what he said and did what he did. By accepting our need (the need for a savior) and humbly stepping towards the truth and hope of the Cross we find and fulfill this desire.

I have been consumed lately (since the summer) by this one line from Superman Returns. If you remember, or if you haven’t seen the movie I’ll explain the context, Superman leaves the earth to return home to Krypton. His love interest, Lois Lane, is a journalist and receives acclaim for her stories pertaining to the Man of Steel. Perhaps her most famous article is titled: “Why the world doesn’t need Superman”. So, upon his return, Lois is still resentful of Superman, in part due to her feelings towards him, and because of his obsession with helping others. This movie is not explicitly or implicitly Christian in many of its themes, but there is one scene which just kills me. Superman meets Lois on the top of her building and brings her up into outer space to observe the world below (I’ll leave alone the scientific implications ex: that its impossible to breathe in space etc.) We then hear the cries of people below who are in need and calling for help. Superman looks at Lois Lane and says “You say the world doesn’t need a savior, but everyday I hear the world crying out for one”. This just floors me, I get shivers down my spine when I think about it. The point of this quote, in reference to this entry is that we all need a savior. We all need Jesus: bottom line. And it is only when we accept our failure as people that we understand this. So for those people who’s needs are provided for remember: there will be a time when you are in need, and your hope will not be in people, jobs, homes, cars or money. Your hope is in Jesus . . . . and this is the truth.

Christmas Christmas . . . for better or worse!?

Originally written - December 24, 2006

I am sitting in Border's Books right now, sitting in the cafe section which conveniently overlooks the rest of the store. I have a front row; actually we'll call it a front row balcony seat. In all seriousness I feel like I am in a sky-box, considering the glorious leather chair that is caressing my bottom, the glass wall in front of me, and my food/coffee. (side note: I have been in two skyboxes before. both at the Hartford Civic. The first was a Disney Ice-Capades sort of deal, and the second was a UCONN Huskies game vs. Yale. Both were brilliant experiences.) There are currently no less than 60 people in this Border's, all frantically looking for that last minute for that person who its just impossible to shop for! Why are certain people such a pain to get gifts for? Is it because you don't know them well enough, or just because they don't seem to have any interests besides watching TV? This makes me think . . . . what are the different genres of people in reference to the Holiday season? Could we classify people into different groups based on their approach to Christmas/Hanukah/Kwanza?? I believe myself to be equal to this task here goes


Type #1 - The above-mentioned impossible person to shop for . . .(there are multiple sub-groups for this one)

Everyone has that person: either they're that type of son of a bitch that tells you not to get them anything (is there really anything worse than that?) or that they don't "need" anything this year. Obviously you fucking don't "need" anything, and let's be serious, that's never been the point of Christmas, at least not in the modern, or postmodern (hahaha, postmodern . . . just throwin' in the buzzword), sense. If you have a roof over your head and have eaten something in the last 36 hours, you obviously don't "need" anything, just tell me what you want and make it easy for me. But let's go back to that first person, the one who tells you not to get them anything, and simply refuses to give you any hints or clues as to what you should get them. Don't they understand that all they're doing is putting you through agony?? Usually this person is a family member, or someone else who you HAVE to get something for. They don't realize that by not giving you any ideas that they are, in fact, making your Christmas shopping experience, which usually sucks anyway, much much worse. Maybe they do want you to get them what you want to get them without their influence, but c'mon, at least give me an idea. Otherwise you're going to get something that I would want, and which will probably mean nothing for you. This is a shitty feeling. You buy something that means a lot to you for this person expecting that it will carry the same weight for them as it does for you, only to be disappointed in your realization that it doesn't. Maybe this is a book that they never read or little trinket/picture/vase/sculpture that doesn't quite cut it when they are decorating their home. Either way, nobody likes their gift going unappreciated, or unused, yet this happens every year with over 50% of gifts (no real basis for this stat, pure speculation). What these people need to learn is how to be considerate receivers: tell the people you love what you'd like for Christmas, or at least give them some parameters. Otherwise you end up putting added stress on them to find you something that you probably WON'T like. They in turn are disappointed b/c they got you something that they like way more than you do. In short . . . don't be this person. Do your family a favor and don't be the impossible to shop for person.

Type #2 - the person who shops for Christmas gifts in July

First of all, this person is usually completely psychotic, but also totally amazing. They are usually incredibly thoughtful and giving people. Unlike you and me, they are constantly thinking of ways to make other people happy, which extends to extremely thoughtful gifts. Sometimes I get the feeling when I'm in a store that "hey, so and so would really like this". Unfortunately I am too much of an asshole to actually get this item for them, and instead wait until late December to even begin thinking about gifts. I have an aunt who does this (and so do you probably), and she is totally kick-ass. It really blows my mind that she is even capable of Christmas shopping in the summer, but I think it has more to do with her spirit of giving, than it does with "Christmas shopping". Where as I think, "hey I think my bro would really like this mug . . . too bad I am not getting it for him", she goes through with the purchase, and then places it in her special gift area which you and I are too unorganized to have. Let me just say one more thing before we move on . . . most people have no hope of being this person. I have long given up any hope of emulating my aunt in this respect. Probably b/c I am too selfish. If I ever did get someone a gift out of season, I would probably need to give it to them right away, to validate my purchase and myself.

Type #3 - the person/family who actually makes their own gifts

These families/people are usually a bit quirky, perhaps bordering on wacky. They usually belong to a family that doesn't have cable, and who spend downtime reading or playing games or something actually constructive. They are also normally very creative people, no doubt stemming from the above mentioned activates. Where as I spent my leisure time watching something dreadful on the tube, or playing Madden against my friends, they made arts and crafts or actually played outside, and used their imagination . . . what a concept huh?!?! These people write a poem, make some sort of photo album or calendar, or knit their loved ones something. Its sort of funny that right now I can't even think of what else these people do, probably b/c I am not one of them. This Christmas however I am flirting with the line more than ever before, but I think that this is b/c I don't have the means to actually "buy" gifts. There are pros and cons to being a "make your own gift" person. The pros are obvious: Nothing says I love you more than . . . well I guess saying it really says it . . . but after that, nothing says I love you like something from the heart, mind and hands. By making someone something you are showing them that you care enough to spend your time constructing something for them, something that you thought long and hard about. The end product ends up not being as important or valuable as the thought/feeling/time spent on it. Unless you are REALLY artistic, or abnormally creative. The cons are as obvious as the pros . . . I think. There's a chance that the person you made something for simply won't appreciate it . . . maybe b/c these people are heartless bastards who don't deserve gifts of any kind, or because they really wanted something else. (I actually heard from my brother that one of the top reasons for break-ups among couples are "made gifts". The giver feels slighted if the receiver doesn't show the proper appreciation, and can in turn lead to resentment.) There is also the possibility that you are not as creative as you think and that no matter how long it took you to make this thing or how much of yourself you poured into it that the end product will suck. This is a bummer, but as long as the person you made the gift for isn't the heartless bastard mentioned above, you should be ok. I think that one should avoid making gifts for children, unless it is actually really cool. Kids under a certain age won't really appreciate your effort because they will want toys. This doesn't make them heartless bastards, just normal kids. But chances are at some point in the future they WILL realize the specialness, and give you a hug. Bottom line: people who make their own gifts are usually good, thoughtful, caring people, and the world would be a much better place if more people subscribed to this form of gift-giving . . . at least I think. (it could be that I think this as a validation for the gifts I'll be making for my loved ones, in which case I am an asshole)

Type #4 - . . . . .



My creative juices have been tapped on this subject . . . maybe I'll think of more. Until then

self consumantion (is that even the right word)

Originally written - December 16, 2007

I had a meeting with a professor of mine on thursday to discuss my writing. I desperately want to be a good writer, and having had this guy for the second time in as many years, and having subjected him to large number of my papers, I thought there would be no one better suited for critique, advice etc.

In essence he told me that in general the focus of my papers tends to be too broad and that I should narrow my gaze, and really fix on one idea. But he said something else, which has since haunted me. While commenting on my "voice" (which is a term writer's apparently use to describe the author's ability to convey his personality) he told me that I was earnest. Earnest. EARNEST. Maybe this doesn't sound so problematic to you, or perhaps you think I'm an asshole for making a big deal out of a compliment recieved from a professor. But its been messing with me ever since. Why, you ask? Well thats the blog topic, so I am not just going to divulge my answer right away am I? I guess I could, but that wouldnt be as fun.

Back to this earnestness . . . upon hearing that word ease itself from his mouth I was a little shocked, a little confused and a lot proud. ha. I asked him:

"really, you think people think I'm earnest?"

to which he responded: 'yeah they do."

"are you sure that I don't come across as a condescending asshole?"

"yeah, I'm sure. you don't come across that way."

ok, so have you noticed what I did here? totally unintentionally I might add. I had managed to make my favorite professor of all time tell me that I was earnest three different times? I couldn't just let him complement me once could I? This episode is problematic for me in a number of different ways, which I hope to fully explain to you my reader. (who am I kidding, no one actually reads this, probably b/c I am afraid to show it to most people - that doesn't sound very earnest does it?)

Problem #1 - Earnestness
As a person who had recently become obsessed with honesty, being described as earnest is a great validation. I could hear my inner voice saying "yesssssssss" as soon as I was able to register what was taking place in his office. Being earnest is good right? Really good. I am sure everyone would want to be called earnest. It sounds noble, dignified. When I think of someone who actually is earnest I imagine a man totally unconcerned with what the world thinks of him. In a very serious, intentional and purposeful manner he lives out his days respecting everyone around him and treating them as better than himself. An earnest man does not seek out earnestness, he is earnestness. Through the reality of his humilty, steadfastness and perseverance he becomes earnestness. Now you may argue that earnestness isn't a real word . . . to that I respond with a short, quick "fuck you", don't forget who is sovereign here, yeah thats right bitch. Above and beyond everything that I just mentioned is this: earnestness cannot be attained through trying, its a way, an inherited lifestyle or a God-given gift. This is exactly why this description is problematic for me

Problem #2 - Earnestness = me . . . . don't think so
As stated in my initital blog I am a self-obsessed socio-path. This, in itself, has the potential to void any attempts towards earnestness. YOU SEE I DID IT AGAIN!!!! FUCK. I can't be earnest by trying to earnest. I can try to tell the truth, treat people well and work hard, but in the end if my real goal is to considered earnest then I've forfeited the decency of these ideals. is that confusing? Maybe. Here's my point: Since mid-way through my college career I came to the realization that it was cool "not give a shit". This extended to may spheres of my life, and has since affected me in positive and negative ways.

Negative Examples - poor academics, poor communication with people I don't see everyday, lack of drive/effort.
Positive Examples - . . . uhhh . . . . i geuss I try to make it seem like I don't care what other people think

THERE IT IS, hidden beneath the choice to "not give a shit" is the realization that I am a total fraud. I try soooooooo hard to make it seem like I don't care. I make sure to tell people that I haven't showered or that I haven't washed my hair. My teammates can attest to the sort of running commentary I deliver to them about the happenings of my day or week. Inevitably these include a form of self-deprication, but for whose sake?? My attempt is to convey my shortcomings, weaknesses to my team in order for us to all laugh at me and to make it seem like I am secure enough to debase myself with such brutal honesty. I succeed on some level. To those who don't know me very well this sort of behavior works pretty well, take my professor for example: he sees me as that kid in class who shows up looking like he just got sexually assaulted by a mother moose, and who approaches the texts we read as a way to somehow discover truth. At the most basic level, this perception is the right one, but what happens when one digs deeper?

I can rememebr a girl giving her testimony (which in this case means the story of God working in her life) and discussing the lenghts she goes to try and convince the world that she is a free-living hippy type who doesn't care about society's conventions, or the opinions of those around her. The truth with her, the truth with me, and I suspect the truth with most of us, is that we do care very much with the opinions of the outside world. Not about everything, but certainly in their perceptions of our individual personhood. I can't tell you how long it sometimes takes me to look like it I didn't take any time. Where's the earnestness there huh? I have one teammate who seems to see straight through me and all my falsities. He sees me doing this shit like: purposely styling my hair to make it look like I didn't style my hair, or purposely making fun of myself just so people think I am secure and just laughs. He tells me all the time "You just desperately want people to like you don't you" I laugh it off but secretly when no one's looking I break down and wonder if its that easy to see through me. I hope its not, and that somehow this one guy just happens to possess a sixth sense for detecting my bullshit.

Problem #3 - What to do, what to do?
In the end I have some choices to make. I could abandon all attempts to convince people that I just don't care, and start gelling my hair, shaving reguarly and building myself up and not tearing myself down in front of others. I could also just make myself look so ugly that peolple would then REALLY be convinced that I didn't care what they thought of me. Or I could continue to live I have been, and try to be as honest as I can be while realizing that I am just a big joke. And it seems to me like this is the best option. Sure, its a flawed lifestyle, and for the people who know me best any chance at earnestness has long since waved bye-bye in my case. This is the cost, the repercussions for thinking too much about myself. If I am bound to self-reflection I therefore open myself up to my own critique, analysis and scrutiny. Look at this post for example. Through my recognition of this sort of behavior, am I not merely trying to convince myself that I am noble, or earnest for being able to approach my condition so honestly? By analyzing my own attempts at earnestness am I actually trying to fake out myself or my reader into thinking that I am, in fact, earnest. Can you see the cycle? I sure you can. So where's the hope for me? I think that all I can do is try to be earnest. Obviously if I am actually trying, then I can't be, but at least some of the vitrues that walk hand in hand with earnestness will run off on me. And instead of searching for validation in people that don't know me very well, I should instead focus my gaze on the opinions of those close to me. For it is their opinion which carries weight for me, and if I am trying to get anyone to like me, it should be them.

First Time is the Worst Time

Originally written - December 12, 2006

So . . . I have fought the monster long enough. Perhaps this will be a total departure from my journal, or perhaps only the excerpts I have deemed especially enlightening will make it in here. The bottom line is this: I am a self-consumed socio-path who actually thinks that somehow the keys I am banging with my fingers will hopefully form words that will help me (and maybe even others) make sense of life. Presumptuous? Absolutely. Far-fetched, and played out? Certainly, it wouldn't be fun it if wasn't. Maybe if I think peope are actually reading my blog I will actually work at developing coherent thoughts, and complete sentences.

Here's where I am at, a sort of State of the Union: (maybe this should be put in my profile, but this is my blog and I make the fucking rules. I am the tsar of my blog, the supreme ruler. This can be the one sphere of my life that I actually can exhibit a semblance of control.)

I am a 22 year-old currently strugging through my senior year of college. I have fucked around for long enough and now have decided that becoming a real human being is in my best interest. I have a wonderful (see: psychotic) family who actually does care about me, friends who like having me around for the most part, an amazing girlfriend who seems to get a kick out of me and a bunch of crazed teammates who spend their waking (and sleeping) hours dreaming of an 175 gram piece of plastic. I am at a stage in my life where I have absolutely no idea what the fuck is going on, but am beginning to think that this is how it always will be. I have recently begun attending class and am learning that I don't hate it as much as I originally thought I did. However as I am writing this I am supposed to be writing a paper on the development of faith in the life and poetry of T.S. Eliot. It promises to be an engaging paper (I hope) and in some ways is responsible for the creation of this on-line vomit.

In fact it is due to T.S. Eliot, and the paper, that I wrote a crazy email to my gf earlier this morning (around 145am) discussing my own faith journey (I hate that phrase) and what I now deem to be actually real. I forgot to mention above that I am a Christian, but not your mother's Christian, nor your friend in the youth-group's Christian. I am a believer in Jesus and in the life-granting freedom that comes with the knowledge of his person. The person who actually truly, deeply and honestly loves me, and decided that it would be a good idea to die in my place and to give me a life that I have to right to. I know I know, you've heard it all before from either your mother or your youth group friend, but I don't think it can be repeated enough. I do need to be forever reminded of this knowledge as I often lose sight of it. I am an advocate for forgivness and grace. The type of Grace that my God lovingly, relentlessly provides me and the rest of humanity. The type of grace that says: "I know you are a total disaster. I know you are completely fucked up. I know everything about you, all your shortcomings, all your faults. I even know about that time you did . . . . . (insert really awful thing here) and I still love you, and still want to know you. I repeat: I still Love you" Tell me that's not attractive. Tell me that if someone told you that you wouldn't be at least a little inclined to check them out. Well maybe its just me. Anyway, here's the email . . . sorry Michi if you think I'm being too personal. Here it is:

the subject was "you wanted it and now you got it: more of my rants"

its not even that late right now, maybe you'll be lucky enough to get another email even later than tonight . . . . ok so here's
what my paper is >


T.S. Eliot thats Thomas Stearns for the layman (or laywoman in this case, I'm p.c. (wink))

basically my paper is going to trace Eliot's poetry for religious symbolism and discuss how his poetry changes due to his
increasing faith in God. hahahah, how lucky am I that I get to write about shit that I am actually interested in. I would be a
total failure if I couldn't make everything always about me . . . I suck. Anway the point of the paper is that as he developed in
his notions of God/faith etc. that he began to foster hope. The Eliot of the Wasteland (prob. his most well known poem) is a
man in despair. Written in a time when the world was beginnig to accelerate and when people were searchng for meaning to
their seemingly meaningless lives. The Wasteland is a poem of futility, anger and hopelessness, themes that will rear their
head again and again throughout his work. This mindset doesn't change when Eliot comes to faith as one may expect. To Eliot, the world still sucks and life is still hard. However, he retains hope in the truth of the Gospel and in God's ability to provide
some meaning for our lives, however fleeting. I wonder if I am actually writing this paper about Eliot or about myself with
substitutions for the name? I suck.

Anyway, this is not that interesting. At least not as interesting as my previous rants. I am however starting to struggle with this idea of truth and reality? I think I used to think that all this bullshit about school, papers, loans, cars, jobs etc, all the things
that made up "life" were not, in fact, real. I used to think that God defined reality and therefor all things existing outside of
His realm weren't real. (Is is weird that I really thought that??) Anyway, now my mindset has changed. Those things I
mentioned above are life, those things, no matter how much I hate them, or how stupid/silly I think They are. They are in fact real,
at least they are to me right now in this life. To try and avoid them, or deem them false, is to deny my life in some sense. It
is a mistake to look for Big "T" Truth if we are purposely ignoring the little "t's" all around us. I think now that Big "T" Truth
(which for me is directly connected to God, Jesus etc.) is actually comprised of a bunch of little "t's" huddled together.
Therefor, if I really want to find God and for Him to find me, I must stand up to the those things which terrify me the most. I
must actually live. I actually have to do my work, write my papers, go to class, call my family (hahaha), get a job etc. This is
not admitting defeat like I used to think it was. This is not surrender to what I think isn't real. Those are real. Class, at least
right now, IS my reality. It is my truth and by immersing myself in it, I hold on to the hope that somehow I will gain insight
into myself and into Big "T" Truth. (this sounds pretty interesting to me right now)

The point is this: I do believe in God, and I do believe that he defines reality, because he created the earth. Therefor I believe
that there is a reality which extends beyond the "physicality" of this world becuase He is beyond this world. There is MORE than
this computer, this paper, this class, this house, this job etc. But, I no longer believe that reality is ONLY reserved for that which
is outside my physical perception. If I do this, all desires and aspirations I may harbor for this life, on this planet, are null, void
and meaningless. If I don't think that what is going on in my life is real, than I have forfeited it, I have declared it not worth
living, and in turn I have slapped my creator and savior directly in the face. Instead I will live this life I have been given. I will
live it knowing that there IS more, but that THIS is my sphere of action. My existence in this body, in this place, with these
people around me is where I function and where I live. I can longer use the excuse: "I just don't care". Sometimes, I admit, I
don't, but if any meaning or truth is going to be wrung out of my life, it will done through my relentless and tirelss twisting.
(did you get the wet towel imagery?)

Anyway, I know you don't agree with all of this, but I think you like to know what I am thinking about. In a major way, having
you is very freeing. You may me feel like this shit matters, and you make me feel like someoe actually cares about what I am
thinking. You actually allow me to do this sort of self-examination. hahaha, this is funny for me. I think right now as I writing
this sentence I have become convinced that you are bringing me closer to God and that I am falling more in love with you.

love you lots. I love you like a crow loves roadkill. (was that a good one???) wow, I have way to much energy right now, I
could just keep typing and typing all night long. God, how sweet would that be if I had a job where all I had to do was write
about what I was feeling(s), that would be absolutely sick. anyway . .. . you're fucking awesome and amazing and good. love
you michi. night night.

dan


That was it, that was the email (i actually omitted some lovier lines for her sake). Thats what I am dealing with right now, and I think that you should take a second and deal with it too. What does it mean to be living a "real life" to be immersed in your reailty? And I don't mean culture, or fads or anything stupid like that, but rather something more, something deeper (that sounds lame). If you were to actually step back and ask yourself:

What is my life?

What answer(s) would you get? What is your reality. Maybe your reality is your job and wife and kids. Or maybe your reality is your gf or bf. Maybe your reality is what you study, or create. Maybe your reality is tied up in tv, movies, books, music. Maybe sports. The point is this: your reality is your reality. Whether you like it or not, your reality, and indeed your life is the sum of its parts. Should your parts be more substantial? Should the parts that make up your life be better, cooler, more interesting? Are you happy, are you able to find purpose, meaning in the sum total of your parts. Do your little "t's" somehow construct a big "T"? I don't mean to sound condescending, or attacking. Certainly there are parts (many parts) of my life that totally suck, and that I am not happy with. For example: WHY CAN'T I JUST WRITE THIS FUCKING PAPER?? or maybe WHAT IS WITH MY DAD? IS HE CRAZY, OR AM I CRAZY, WHO REALLY IS CRAZIER?? or maybe one of the major "parts" of your life is the promise of something in the future: A job, or family, or situation that is around the corner but not yet quite in your sphere.

This is not so much a commentary or question about exactly what your reality is as much as what you are able to do with your reality, or what you let your reality do to you. For me, I want God to be my reality and I want to the other parts of my life to be an exploration, MY exploration of the life I have been given because of Him. Does this always happen? HA! I should say not, as I stated above, I can really suck sometimes, actually most of the time. Especially as a "Christian" (purposeful, maybe even sarcastic quotes used here) I pretty much blow. As far as what most people have come to understand as a "Christian Life" I fail ruthlessly. Lying? check. Stealing? check (but only if you include daily shoplifting from Ingraham Deli stealing). Drug Use? Moderate, but still a check. I am afriad of where this initial post will go if I start exploring the depths of my more general shortcomings, those of selfishness, lust, resentment, judging etc. (this has already gone on too long)

What I want to be is a man who is chasing after life. David of the bible is often described as a "man after God's heart". I want this to be me, but maybe not as directly as David. I want to relentlessly pursue God through my relentless pursuit of my reality and what, where, when, why and how God is working through it. So this is my blog mission statement. Please, don't be turned off by the religious insights or implications, I promise that they won't be overbearing, and may even prove relevant. Feel free to hate me, argue with me or tell me how wonderful and fascinating I am ( I am a sucker for compliments, they feed my constantly in-flux ego, sometimes up . . . sometimes down). So there you have it . . . my first blog.



ps. you can also just write me a post that tells me this is the worst thing you've ever read, if in fact you read the whole thing. Please tell me if you think this, it will save my friends, family, girlfriend and teammates the embarrassment of actually knowing me. (if you fall into one of these categories, which you obviousy do otherwise you wouldn't waste your time reading this, thats ok, I can handle the heat)

The "Real World"

Its often said to those on the doorstep of college graduation that the “real world” is waiting just beyond. This statement would usually draw groans from my inner voice and sometimes from my audible one. What the sayers usually meant when this exited their mouth was that after college lay the wonderfully real world of jobs and bills and loans and rent and insurance and all the rest of that stuff. I often react the same way when thinking of these above-mentioned realities as I do when the term “real world” is brought up. The reason for this is that I have yet to really figure out how all that stuff works. Or perhaps if I pretend that they don’t exist maybe they will just go away. Interesting how that never works, yet I continually insist it will. But this post isn’t going to be a rant on how stupid the term “real world is”, even though it is.

Instead I’m going to spend the next bit here explaining why it is actually the truth. For the first time in many people’s lives, after college is the first chance we academically channeled humans are given to think about what we want our life to be. Some think of this while in college, and to those of you who figured it out I salute you . . . you are either incredibly driven, sure of what you want or terrified of having any sort of possibility in your life. Maybe that’s taking is a bit too far, but I don’t think so.

Being handed your college diploma (or fake diploma, which is what they do now, I’ve been told) is often the most terrifying moment of a person’s life up until that point. For the entirety of their conscious lives most of us have been in school of some kind. And regardless of the level of freedom we were given while enrolled, there was simultaneously an incredible security. Even in college, when we are finally away from our parents, free to party til all hours of the night and skip class the next day, we still have a structure, classes to go to, tests to take, papers to write etc. Some obviously choose to rebel against this structure, realizing that school isn’t for them and thus start their “real lives” sooner than those who stick it out.

The point I’m getting at here, is that once we are free from school we actually have a choice . . . . so. What is it? This is where life becomes terrifyingly real to me, and I am forced to come face to face with a sort of self-awareness deficiency. The truth is, I have no idea what I want. Let me caveat that last statement . . . I have no idea what I want to do. And despite the assertions of many, including myself, that one’s job isn’t their life I find it hard to reasonably deny the claim. Any occupation that is full time becomes a huge part of ones life. When you are spending the better part of your waking hours involved in a singular duty, that becomes your life. It’s not wonder why people you recently met will ask you the “what do you do” question. This is essentially the same question as the “how old are you” in grade school, “where are you going to college” in high school, and “what’s your major” in college. By answering this question you are, whether you like it or not, saying a lot about yourself. You are telling the person a little about your values, your lifestyle, your personality and your perceived future. Obviously these are all conjectured and stereotypical, but often they are accurate.

Certainly there are huge exceptions. Some people are working a job they hate now to pay for their real lives’ pursuit, or have a huge secondary hobby which they would claim actually “defines them”. When thinking about jobs, what I am actually doing is thinking about myself. What am I willing to do? What am I willing to settle for? Am I content to do something I don’t enjoy? And if so, why? These last two questions are particularly interesting to me. For me, I have a much longer list of dislikes than likes. I know what I wouldn’t want to do, and in this way I can sort of narrow my choices down, but still the question remains: what do I want to do? And can I find it through inaction? This is where the potential of our lives after college can quickly change into a strangulation or sort of paralysis. That there is so much to potentially do isn’t enabling but rather suffocating. I often sit and think about what I could be doing other than what I am . . . but do I do it? Sometimes, but must often not.

So in this age of occupations, careers and jobs that we spend the majority of our lives performing, where is the place for our hearts true desires. Do these even really exist anymore, outside of feelings or vague ideas about what we want our day to day to resemble? We’ll see I suppose, as for now I’m living the day to day, hoping that as some point that dream, whatever it may be, will become reality. That when asked the question, I’ll be able to respond with a certain sense of passion, and a contented smile.

Why is it so in to be out?

I often said that the most annoying part of being an English major is dealing with your fellow students. Inevitably in every class you'll run into a handful of students who love to tear down the work you're analyzing, and in some way, it's part of being a critic. They'll always end up saying the same types of things "the author is constantly contradicting him/herself" or my favorite "I just didn't find his argument convincing." I know that I've said these things, and I'm sure to some of my former classmates I've inhabited this "annoying english major" persona. But why? Why do we constantly feel the need to rip on those around us? Why is it so much cooler to tear something down than to build it up?

I think that this propensity towards criticality stems from an insecurity about attaching ourselves to something that could get us made fun of. By saying that you actually like something, or in my English class example, enjoyed a certain author's point or work you are risking your credibility. For as soon as someone shoots down the text you defended, in a way you feel like they are shooting you down as well. A good friend of mine at school, majoring in fine arts, said the key to getting a good grade on an art critique was to take an incredibly negative angle. All the professors would be way more impressed by your attention to what didn't work in the piece that what did. What an interesting thought.

This idea extends out from the world of academia into our critiques on pop culture, or those who inhabit it. How much more often do we "hate that movie" or "hate that song" than love them? There is something very attractive about this negativity. Apart from sounding or seeming more analytical, it is also much safer. We never have to attach ourselves to something that others may end up deeming lame.

Another friend up mine told me about his experience writing for the ultra-critical music reviewing website pitchforkmedia.com. A Harvard grad, and now a writer for the Wall Street Journal, my friend was fired from pitchfork for not being critical enough. The website portrays itself as the site for music conoissuers, those who know the difference between good music and bad music. As a frequenter of this site, it's hard not to be swayed by the confident, overly vocabularistic (not a wrd) writing of its critics. I think, "yeah they're right, those rifts all sound the same . . . this band is tired", instead of realizing how incredible it is that someone is able to create art worth listening to, putting themselves out there in a way a critic never could. I say in my blog description that critics are only critics because they're not creative enough to create, and I think this is where they get their start. The safe, intellectual-sounding world of negativity.

Giving Up

I am sitting here, watching the credits role from the film "Gone Baby Gone". The effect of the movie's plot/theme, combined with my third leinenkugels and some really beautiful music has put me in a quite a mood. The film centers around a man named Patrick, played wonderfully by Casey Affleck, who is hired as a private detective to investigate the disappearance of a young girl. Taking time to hash out plot details and provide a decent "review" of the film would be monotonous for you and me, so I'll spare us both. What I am very interested in however is the manner in which the film deals with the general, yet very specific shortcomings of its characters, and indeed the light in which it paints humanity in general.

What I really like to do after watching a movie I enjoy is looking it up on rottentomatoes.com. This is one of my favorite websites. It gathers all the reviews from a movie it can find from magazines and newspapers all over the country and gives said movie a percentage based on how many critics gave it either a "fresh" or "rotten" review. The site itself provides no opinion, but rather harnesses the opinions of hundreds of movie critics. I was pleased, as I often am when my opinion coincides with the "experts", that Gone Baby Gone recieved a 93% on rotten tomatoes and a 91% from its "top critics" (which implies major newspaper and magazine reviews).

There was one reviewer's comment however that really irked me, not because it was necessarily inaccurate, but because of its implications. Terry Lawson, of the Detroit Free Press writes that "we give up before the detectives, not just on the story, but on humanity, which I doubt is what anyone really wants." My contention with this comment is not that Lawson is wrong in this movies' depicton of humanity's shortcomings, nor his assumption that most people don't want to give up hope on our species capacity for good.

My contention with Lawson is that giving up on humanity, indeed giving up on ourselves is in fact the only hope we have. Perhaps Mr. Lawson is unable to see it this way, as I am sure many people are who have yet to be truly disappointed in themselves, or who are too afraid to admit their own failures. Perhaps the world Mr Lawson lives in is one where people keep their word, or don't continually behave selfishly and/or violently. Perhaps Mr Lawson genuinely believes that humans are good, and that given the opportunity they will change for the better, not because they should, but because its ingrained in our makeup.

Well perhaps Mr. Lawson, what is keeping humanity from attempting to fix the mess it has made of itself and of the world is its own insistance of goodness. Perhaps if we took a moment and stood back from ourselves we would realize that we aren't that great. I think this honesty is a relief to most of us. The moment we realize we aren't, nor will we ever be the people we want or the people we think those around us expect us to be. Maybe a collective acceptance of humanity's failures will bring us closer to creating a world worth being a part of. Yes it is difficult, and maybe people don't want to see it, but the relief alone is worth checking out. The relief of giving up.

The Have To

Something funny happened to me a few days ago. I was reading Cormac McCarthy's newest work The Road, and found myself thinking about possible paper topics. Had I not been so completely engrossed in the book itself I would've busted out my laptop and started typing. The irony here is that through my entire academic career up until this point, I have always had the hardest time finding the desire or the drive to do my work, typing papers especially.

For those of you familiar with me this comes as no shock. Procrastination is a description most people would use to describe themselves, and I would to, at least to some extent. The difference is that most people end up doing what ever it is that they've been pushing off. I wait and wait and wait, and then don't. What I have found interesting about that sudden impulse to develop a thesis, find proper quotes and launch into an argument or analysis, is that I felt it at all. After years of people telling me what to write, or how to write and when it was due, and me resisting through it all, there I was subconsciously formulating my stance.

I have often wished, as I state in my blog header that I possessed THE creative impulse. That I needed to write, or needed to play my instrument otherwise I would lose my mind. I have told many people that when walking into bookstores I am completely amazed by all the books. That may seem ludicrous, but what I mean is that I am surrounded by thousands of people's efforts. People who were willing to quit their jobs to write, or would write in their spare time. They then were willing to go through the long exhausting process of editing and submitting their work to people who would eventually publish it. That whole affair completely psyches me out, for I certainly don't possess such a drive. Again, I wish I did, but I simply don't. I enjoy writing, but only when it comes naturally, not when I have to force it, which brings me back to the opening of this rant.

When I feel like I have to, I can't, won't and don't. The "have to" ends up manifesting itself as a sort of suffocation. For whatever reason, when I have to do x I will avoid it in any way possible, despite the consequences. Yet when I am free to to read what I want, when I want, and free to decided for myself what I want to write the desire is there, maybe even a bit of a drive if I dare use such a word. So who knows, maybe that essay on The Road will be up here soon, but then again, if you're expecting it . . . well, then I wouldn't count on it.