Clara, forever yours

The park was bright with the dancing rays of the sun, and the air was fresh, full of all the smells of the new spring that had just arrived. Even the trees seemed to be pleased, waving back and forth in a gentle breeze. In the distance, a group of people were gathered around a parked car and listening to “Looking Out My Back Door” by CCR. However, I was here for a different purpose.

After hiking for about half an hour I saw the large rock with graffiti on it. I was getting close. First this stop, then the next. Climbing down a steep slope, I reached the bottom of the gorge and walked between the two walls of rock to the secluded lagoon. The sound of the small fountain of water that poured into it got louder and louder. I had to choose carefully which rocks to step on as I approached, many were wet and therefore too slick to keep my balance on.

Reaching the shore of this secluded and unknown paradise I fell to my knees. Staring into the water of the lagoon I could see what first appeared as my own reflection and then watched as it transformed into a mirror for the memories which drove me here. Her face was smiling, laughing. So beautiful. Her eyes were bright and her lush hair only added to her glory.

Unable to breathe, I looked away. No matter how many times I prayed, God would grant me no tears. Somewhere, my heart disconnected with the rest of myself. I was unable to express my innermost and most wretched torments even to myself. Perhaps I had suppressed everything for so long that I had forgotten how to relax. Or, more likely, this was another part of me that had died.

I had to be strong.

Looking back into the water, the images were gone. Only a crystal clear lagoon stared back at me. I reached into the water and cupped a bit of it in my hand. Lifting it up, I opened my fingers a little bit and watched as it all fell out, back to the lagoon from which it came.

I’m a little embarrassed to admit how furiously I reacted the next few moments. I pounded my fist into the water, searching ravenously for the substance that I hoped this lagoon possessed. My clothes were thoroughly wet after this incident, and indeed I had stirred the underlying mud and caused the water to cloud.

While I waited for the mud to settle, I wiped my bloody hand off on my jeans. Damn rock. The bleeding wouldn’t stop, so I took some of the thicker mud and wiped it over my hand, hoping that would help clot the wound. It seemed to work, but who knows.

The knots were easy, although my hand stung a bit from the cut. When I’d finally finished, the rope swung lazily in the wind, hanging from the strong tree that stretched over the lagoon. Climbing the tree, I looked over my sanctuary again. It was perfect, so serene, so beautiful. The lagoon began to play back the images of my memories again.

She was so beautiful. Maybe if I reached this time I could touch …

***

The water clouded again as drops of red mixed with thick mud rhythmically plopped into the lagoon.

In the memory you'll find me
Eyes burning up
The darkness holding me tightly
Until the sun rises up

-Forgotten, Linkin Park

Raindrops Jesse stood in the middle of the sanctuary, waiting for Karen to finish talking to the pastor's wife. The night outside seemed to envelope the whole building in a womb of silence and, oddly enough, peace. He knew there was something outside in the darkness, waiting for him. Men fear the unknown second to fearing their own deaths. However he had already accepted his fate, and knew that he would be facing both of those fears very soon. It was because of this appointment that he had not already granted himself the peace that was now being hinted at in the solitude of this sanctuary. Two lights burned dimly on either side of the pulpit up front casting a faint but warm glow on the rigid wooden pews. The pulpit was placed on the stage, which was only a small elevation compared to the rest of the floor. However, in front of the pulpit, residing on the ground floor, was a large, oak table. Nothing sat on it now, but he knew that was where the caskets were placed. He imagined himself up there. The imagery of the thought inspired no emotions except an interest in playing out the scene in his mind. He was clearly not one of the people here. He was an outsider, in more ways than one. There would probably be mock respect and hollow grief, but there would certainly be a sermon. His death would not pass without his life being portrayed as a tragic illustration of waywardness. He wondered if anyone would cry over his lost soul, if there would be anyone genuinely moved. Even Karen seemed callous at times, too callous to really be raw emotionally. But who could blame her, especially in a world like this one, and more specifically in a town like this one? Thinking back, the last time he had genuinely lost control was when he came home from elementary school to find his puppy had been run over by a car. As an only child, he had lost a brother. As a lonely child, he had lost his only friend. For all his numbness and ambivalence towards life, he still cringed in pain at that memory. That stupid ball of orange fur had forever cursed him, but he still loved him and, stupid as it was, still missed him. But now there was no one waiting for him whenever he went home. The people here had told him exactly what to do. He had been warned. Now is the day of salvation. Now is the time to repent. And with that, they were content to let him come to his senses. They had given him the divine law, what more did he need now that he had been shown the narrow way? But he'd never be able to trust these people, because he knew who they were. These are the men who will attend your funeral but will not shed a tear to save your life. For now, though, the table stood empty.

The Celestial City

The light rain could still be heard inside the house, especially at 3:32AM. David was very familiar with 3:32AM, being that tonight, like others, he was not able to sleep. Finishing a glass of water in the kitchen, he walked back down the hall towards the bedroom.

Leaning against the door frame, he stared at his wife, asleep and now many months pregnant. He sighed, knowing that she would have to get up soon to go to work. Hanging his head, he tried to suppress all the emotions that welled up in him, emotions that came from his most primal of instincts and extended to the most matured parts of his faith. What could he do but wait and hope? What could he do, except watch as his wife went off to work each day and endure the whispering behind her back. What could he do except sit at home while she increasingly learned to mask her feelings, swallow her pain, and act to all her coworkers like everything was fine? She heard every word they whispered behind her back, and she recognized every awkward glance her direction, he knew it.

Closing his eyes, he reflected back. His memories of being both a student and a professor seemed to haunt him, representing golden years that had been snatched from him. They had eluded him ever since, and he couldn’t remember the last time that he was truly just happy … content with his life. The anger welled up inside of him again, but he waited. It would subside. He used to say to his students before all this happened that sometimes love was difficult, but this was beyond anything he had experienced. The hatred he suppressed was almost physical.

The whole thing felt like a break-up. He loved the University, and didn’t want to see it come to harm, but he wouldn’t walk away. Even though he wouldn’t walk away, it was hard to go on. Every time things seemed to be coming around they bottomed out, opening the wound wider and wider until it was almost no longer possible to continue feeling the pain.

His wife shifted a little in bed. He was supposed to take care of her, to be their support. He quietly got back into bed, careful not to wake her. She had a long day in front of her.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this

***

The sound of the rain echoed through the house as Bill sat in his chair, staring out the window. His wife had gone to bed long ago, and officially so had he. However, beds aren’t really made for people who can’t sleep. His husky came up to him, nudging his hand with a cold, wet nose. He smiled, rubbing her head. She was so oblivious to all this, so innocent, and yet it was like she knew.

He couldn’t count the faces of the students that were running through his mind. They came here for more than this, they shouldn’t be the ones punished for what’s happened. It broke his heart to think of their innocence, their countenances falling. He knew they were old enough to understand the complexities and darkness of life, but he still felt like there was a millstone hanging around his neck. It was never supposed to come to this. People, the University itself, was never supposed to get hurt. But now too much had happened, and what could he do? He tried to stay positive and upbeat, doing what he could to salvage the situation, and not just for himself but for everyone. God worked in all things for the good, but this was a situation where he had to trust without feeling it.

He couldn’t believe how embarrassed he felt for himself, for his faith, for the University. The situation had devolved into something that was so petty. Rumors were substituting reason and respect. Sometimes he couldn’t even believe the things he had to answer for, as if the questions and accusations deserved dignity. Didn’t they all know that we’re in the same boat, that we’re supposed to be family?

He worried about his own family too. He had prayed so hard, and done all he could to determine if it was truly God’s will for him to come to Cedarville. Now he returned to this decision, turning it over in his head. Had he overlooked something? Should he have kept his family back at Bryant? His mind began to spin, but he stopped it, resolving to trust. “…will neither leave me, nor forsake me…”

He looked out at the rain falling against his window through watery eyes.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

***

Robert walked down the hall, careful to avoid the creaks in the floor that might wake his family. Entering the kitchen, he got a glass of water. Maybe it would help him get sleep. The rain was coming down quietly, and he tried to relax to its sound, to its simplicity. He wasn’t sure what the next few months held for him. His future was uncertain, and he didn’t want to pack his bags up again and move his family.

He wondered about his son, if he was taking any flack on campus. John didn’t have anything to do with this, and he shouldn’t have to suffer for what was going on. There was already enough awkwardness.

He thought about the other student. It wasn’t necessarily all his fault either. Yes, he shouldn’t have said all that he had, but the student had never intended to cause all these problems. Forgiveness was hard, though, and rationalization was even more difficult. He had trusted the student, and … well, trust is a fickle thing.

Tomorrow was going to be a long day. There were going to be a lot of people asking questions. Worse would be the people who weren’t asking questions, the ones who had already passed their judgments. He saw the look in their eyes when they passed him. Their smiles lied, but their eyes didn’t.

Before entering his bedroom he stopped. The rain could still be heard faintly. He closed his eyes and focused on it, a small gift of peace.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

***

The little boy looked around him in amazement. “It’s beautiful! Incredible! I’ve never seen any other place like it!” The father nodded his head. The boy continued, “It’s like that one place, from that story you told me, the cloudy city!” The father chuckled. “It’s not the cloudy city, it was called the celestial city.” The boy barely heard him, his neck craned staring up at the sky where the towers seemed to turn into clouds. “You have to be careful in a place like this son, I don’t want you running off. Stay near me.” “I will daddy,” the boy replied, half attentively.

“What are these, daddy?” the boy asked, pointing at the great white buildings in front of him. “Those are the white towers.” “They seem like they go all the way to heaven.” “Well, their builders would like to think so.” “Who built them?” The father paused for a little bit. “You’ll learn about them as you get older, son.”

The son continued to look around while they walked. As they left the grounds the boy grabbed the father’s shirt and pulled. “Wait! What are those really white buildings over there? They seem to glow, they’re so white!” Stooping down, the father picked his boy up and sat him on his shoulders. “You have to be especially careful about those, son.” “But why daddy?” The father didn’t answer immediately but continued walking. “Because those are tombs.”

Vampires have no reflections

People are generally untrustworthy. This is not to say all people are liars, or that I immediately distrust people upon meeting them, but I do mean that when the crap hits the fan, people are generally untrustworthy. I believe this is highlighted in what Dr. Zimbardo has titled "The Lucifer Effect." In environments of clear hierarchical structure, the people on top abuse those below them. Given the chance to have power above consequence, people will immediately abandon responsibility and devolve into exercising brutality against their fellow man. Why? To further quench their thirst for power and for entertainment. This has been proven time and again in prison systems all over the world. Of particular interest would be Abu Ghraib (which is not an exception, but rather an example...several of the soldiers there, those responsible for some of the worst atrocities, were actually from the super max prisons here in the United States, which are constantly being reported on as being atrocious in and of themselves). If you don't believe me because of the prison example, then consider the South, the Middle Ages (the serfs), and other caste societies across the world throughout history.

We as a people are responsible not to let other people have power above consequence. There always needs to be accountability and a reasonable level of transparency. This is in large part why the United States has been so successful in its history (successful in the sense that we haven't had an evil dictator...yet). Understanding that people should not have power above consequence is immediately relevant to all of us. As citizens, we hold those elected to public office accountable. As employees, we have rights to "whistle-blowing." As television viewers, we had the responsibility to make sure that Sanjaya went home. However, what about as Christians?

There has been a situation going on at my University in which there has been some obvious mishandling of responsibilities. However, this isn't just any University, it's a Christian University. Thus, the "whistle-blowers" have been silenced with arguments along the lines of "you should submit to the authority," "you should not be divisive," "It's not your place to be involved," etc. Meanwhile, the general, University-loving populace is content to reside either in ignorance, apathy, or both. It's easy to avoid a mess if you never get involved.

And messes are sin. Doubt is sin. Conflict is sin. Anger, arguments, and questioning authority is sin.

Or not.

It disturbs me that the values promoted by those in authority are qualities that are naturally opposed to questioning and reacting. Thus, if you get people to believe that "doubt is a sin" then people stop entertaining questions for fear of falling out of grace. Additionally, if you get people to believe that "anger is sin" or "conflict is sin" then keeping the peace and not rocking the boat suddenly becomes a higher priority than pursuing justice.

I just have a hard time believing that Christians should be the bitches of tyrants. The Bible encourages, no, commands us to "test all things, hold fast what is good" (1 Thessalonians 5:21). Yes, this is done with respect, pursuing peace, but not at the expense of truth, of justice, of loving God and our neighbor. Even the Bereans, described in Acts 17, were commended for their testing of what was being preached to them.

Were they really Christians when they let the Nazis take the Jews? The handicapped? Their fellow believers? Wasn't "the great peace of our time" a farce?

What's scarier than the promotion of utter submission is the evidence that people are taught what to think and not how to think. What is truly distinctive about a person after graduating college besides a more impressive resume? Is he/she really a better person, a more educated person?

Dr. Milgram's experiments show that people can very easily be told what to do. So much so that Nazis from WWII who were asked "how could you do what you did?" could respond "we were just following orders" with some level of credibility. However, education should be the solution to this, the defense of an enlightened mind not to be bullied into believing something counterintuitive. Education is no longer "enlightenment." Education is no longer the promotion of autonomous thought. Instead, education is simply equated with intelligence. Thus, knowing facts, having technical skills, and having a sweet resume makes someone "educated" in today's sense of the word. Sadly, thoughtfulness is not crucial to becoming educated.

Complexity is often attacked by simplicity. Rehabilitation is more difficult than simply administering punishment. The person is more than just a variable or statistic. The ocean is more than just its surface. A Christian is more than just a nice guy.

Thinking through all this, I admit to myself that we as people are dangerous with unquestioned power (thus my introduction that touched on humanity's general untrustworthiness). However, I also see that there is a potential for good. Accountability, transparency, and education are essential if tyrants are to ever be challenged.

Wolves don't always look like wolves. Instead, sometimes they dress themselves as sheep. In fact, even Satan himself parades as a angel of light. The worst atrocities in history were committed by people who believed they were right.

Test all things, hold fast what is good.

A Curious Window

"Hatred flowed through him. He tried to suppress it, rationalizing it away. However, it seemed undeniable. He had been betrayed, condemned to what he refused to comprehend. It's ironic how man is his own balance of good and evil, his own demise under a guise of salvation. In a world that refused to make sense, he couldn't find anymore reason to resist his own insanity. What is reality but perspective? And why should his not have its place?

It all started with a taste, and that taste turned the beast ravenous. Insatiable hunger, and yet no desire to fill his stomach with good things. This is man's curse. "

-From Dreams Unrealized, Nightmares Revisited

What's In A Name?

Today I sat in the waiting room with Mona for her final check up following her leg surgery. She hates the vet and generally will let you know so. Today was no exception. So instead of trying to console her while she was in her crate, I took her out and held her in my lap. This calmed her down for a little bit, but it was hard for her to stop shaking when so many other dogs (generally bigger than her) were acting just as helpless as she was. While reassuring her, I stared down at the little plastic collar they had me put around her neck. Her name was on the collar, and this included my last name. Staring at it, I don't think I necessarily learned something new so much as I felt something new. I knew that she was mine and Lauren's, and that she's always been a "daddy's little girl," but today I saw that she was something more than just "ours." She bore my name.

While it might seem silly to call them my kids or something like that, my pets are very much a part of my family. Timber, Fabala, Mona, Psalty, Celeste, and Butters all have a special place. They are each unique in their own roles. Yet, despite all these differences, they all bear my name. We all share the experience of life. Just the other day, Lauren and I were talking about how we planned on moving next year. Anticipating this, we envisioned what it was going to be like having all 8 of us pulling up in the car and parking out side our new residence. It makes me smile.

These are just my pets, but to transition a little, I also want to acknowledge another branch of family: friends. Friends are the family you choose. I've always embraced Adam's quote from my and Lauren's reception which I'll paraphrase as "You might be able to live without friends, but friends make it worth living." That's not necessarily profound, but it's still powerful because of the truth in it. While there are always some quarrels or disagreements, there are also bonds that won't be broken, yokes that are always shared. As I've grown up and hopefully matured in my relationships I see that what makes friendships good isn't that they're fun or nice, but rather that these people will weather the storms with you, especially when you're the idiot causing the storm.

And now, to transition back to pets, I want to talk about my ultimate pet. My special brown-haired girl, who likes when I give her food (especially chocolate) and spends time with her. She always busy with something, but I'm glad she generally makes time to do things that matter to me, like just hanging out or being creative in living life. I also love to wake up to her in the morning. She also bears my name.

I'm talking, of course, about Fabala.

Being married is fun too, love you Lauren!

Why Donald Trump Is As Stupid As Omarosa / Stupid Is As Stupid Does

The other night I was flipping through the programming guide for the upcoming week and saw that The Apprentice was going to be airing. The last I had heard, the show had been canceled. However, I love this show and was very excited to see a new season of it was beginning. Thus, I anxiously waited for it to record on my DVR.



As I began to watch the show, I realized that it was a "celebrity" edition. I wasn't sure how to feel about this, but I soon felt quite at home rooting for characters I liked and calling for the heads of the people I didn't. There is one abomination that I particularly wanted to see get fired. This abomination's name is Omarosa. They kept referring to her in subtitles as a "reality star." The last I remember, Omarosa was not a reality star so much as a hemorrhoid that we all couldn't wait to be rid of. This is the lady who referred to herself as a leader when everyone else was just trying to think of more obscenities to shout. Why is she so horrid? She embraces a false sense of entitlement and exalts herself as something better than anyone else. In this first episode of Celebrity Apprentice, the women's team was trying to decide on a name. They were trying to think of a name that would denote perfection, and Omarosa said (or maybe vomited, it's hard to distinguish if she's actually speaking of vomiting sometimes) "yeah, there is a word, and it's Omarosa." I'm sorry, I must be mistaken in remembering you LOST in the first Apprentice. But, sometimes egos die hard (or never at all) and terrible memories consisting of things like reality aren't really worth retaining. I was encouraged to read several message boards that all agreed with this. I was even more encouraged to read "...She is an annoyance and a terrible role model for our young black women, or young people of any gender and race." Which also leads me to say that it was beyond unacceptable to play the race card when everyone knew full well that racism had nothing to do with Omarosa's firing in The Apprentice season one.



As I watched the first episode I realized that Omarosa is so heinous that to continue watching the show would be not just a violation of my principles but a hazard to my health. She was in the end the most significant contributing factor to her team's failure. I was ecstatic, I thought that I would be treated to seeing her fired and then able to enjoy the rest of the season. However, Trump did not fire her. Thus, I am done watching the season (I want to preserve a few extra years of my life).



I say that she was the most contributing factor to her team's loss because she did not want to sell "celebrity." The task was to sell hot dogs, and she wanted to show off how she could win the task via business principles and not simply selling the celebrities themselves. It was only through one of the other contestants disobeying these orders that the girls were in any way able to get several donations of five to ten thousand dollars. I assume that Omarosa knows that she's not actually a celebrity and wanted to try to show the other celebrities on her team that she had something better to offer. However, she utterly failed. Later in the board room, another contestant got fired for not using her celebrity status to sell hot dogs. In other words, she got fired for directly obeying the orders of the project manager (Omarosa). I might not be as business savvy as Trump, but common sense seems to hold the project manager accountable for that. The contestant that was fired was accused of not having the ability to be a good leader. However, she was one of the few that argued the business model from the beginning, obeyed orders even though she disagreed with them, and treated people respectfully. I couldn't ask for a better employee with a higher potential. She was also really hot (I have a thing for brunettes - hey Lauren!).



Trump's decision to not fire Omarosa tells me several things. Firstly, Trump has whored out the credibility of his show (he advertises it as a look into how real business works) simply to get ratings, and he's a terrible judge of how to get ratings. In the end, he is as good a celebrity as Omarosa is. He's a business man, but television is obviously not his thing. While it might make sense to him to have the most despised and ultimately unqualified (c'mon, she didn't even place second!) reality contestant compete on his show to increase ratings, people who respect themselves know better than to waste their time. Ultimately, he's not actually selling the "celebrity" part of Celebrity Apprentice, and in the end he's making the same mistake Omarosa did that cost her team the victory.



Sadly, I hope that his mistake will cost him his show. It's a disrespect to all of us. However, if Trump would like to get better ratings he ought to engage me in a name-calling war and call me fat.

Snippets

Nick sat alone at the table in the restaurant. However, the woman sitting across from him did not know it. As she droned on about her life and things she had been up to, Nick reflected on his own life. It was a life consumed with dreams, but he had yet to taste them. Despite the pursuit of happiness, he kept coming up short. Now, as he dated who-knows-what-her-name-is he once again recited to himself what he had accepted long ago. “It’s all senseless, bitter to the taste.”

Staring across the restaurant at another couple he burned with jealousy. What did these people have that he didn’t? Here they sat with a lit candle, hot food, and vibrant conversation filling the space between them. The man looked confident in himself, content. The woman? She was hot. Besides that, and more importantly, she seemed interesting. They both were absorbed in each other. They obviously deserved each other. The successful always do.

Nick’s heart sank, but his chest felt like it was going to explode. With his stomach tensing up, he turned his gaze to the windows nearby. The night helped him calm down normally. However, tonight he couldn’t escape that feeling of isolation and loneliness. On top of that, he could still see the reflection of the people in the restaurant, including the couple he was trying to escape. He stared at the reflection of the candle burning between them and followed its gentle waving flame with his eyes.

It’s a difficult thing to describe what Nick suddenly felt, but it was as if he suddenly could feel the flame. He could feel the presence of everything around him. It was almost like he was waking up from a dream. He felt the same relief that one feels when waking up from a nightmare and realizing that their troubles and torments are no longer real. He felt chains fall off his soul.

He suddenly realized something peculiar about the flame in the reflection. Anywhere he moved his eyes, the flame followed. It would stretch in any direction he wanted it to. Turning around he looked at the couple’s table again, staring at the flame itself. Again, anywhere he wanted it to go, it would go. It began to sputter, doubling its height. The startled couple leaned back in their chairs quickly, and Nick turned away, a smile creeping onto his face.

“What is it?” the woman across from him asked.

“Life just made sense,” Nick replied.

*** *** ***

We live in a world where children die.

The storm raged above the small town. While most people had locked their doors and boarded their windows, one man stood alone out in the street. The rain draped over him, almost as if it clothed him. He held nothing but a knife in his left hand. Staring up at the heavens, he raised his arms and laughed. Lightning flashed and illuminated his face, contorted in sheer ecstasy. Thunder shook the whole town, reverberating even in the deepest part of the human soul.

His time had come, there was no doubt about that. The world had opened up to him and he had found his niche. The only question left for the rest of humanity to wrestle with was whether he had escaped Providence or been unleashed by it.

We live in a world where children die.

*** *** ***

Experience influences our decisions, but experience is often gained by one decision made without reference. To disregard either results in handicap. It might be better to be safe than sorry, but I've met very sorry people living safe lives.

*** *** ***

The city lights were glowing beneath the dark silhouette of a troubled man. The wind blew through his long dark jacket and made it snap back and forth over the edge of the building. His dark wavy hair blew across his face as he watched the crowds of people below. The lights, the noises, the smells, this was the city, and he was taking it all in, absorbing it, getting drunk off of it. This was what he always did when he needed to get out of the box that so often became his entire world. He would put himself in the midst of something bigger. Something he could admire. Something he could have faith in. Something he could dream about.

He saw so many different people milling around below. To think that they all existed separate from him, individual and unique in their experiences, perspectives, and goals.

“My mind is too narrow…too dark. I forget to look around and see the marvel of life…”

He wondered why this was. Why was he always so consumed with a relentless schedule that never seemed to get him anywhere?

“Survival, I’m just trying to survive.”

Survive for what? He was tired of being on the outside looking in. There had to be something else. He knew it was out there. It was something he dreamt about, but couldn’t quite recall, but could swear with the uttermost certainty was real. He was tired of carrying this burden of self-restraint.

“I’m going to find it,” he resolved.

The wind gave a sudden gust, as if to accentuate the gravity of the decision he was making. He braced strong against it, ready to fight.

“I’m going to find my dream.”

Thoughts of the consequences of this decision immediately tried to convince him otherwise. A black mark on his resume. Confused, disappointed family. No income. No safety nets. No idea where he was even going…

“I don’t report to the principal’s office anymore. I have to be true to myself.”

Turning around, he began to march towards the stairs. The only idea he needed was what his next step might be. And right now, he was going to march down, cancel his utilities, pack his few belongings, and take off.

“This is irresponsible. What do I even hope to find?”

He stopped. The wind raced through him once more, only this time it felt like it was telling him to do something. Look up.

“Call me crazy…”

The sky was empty, resonating with the dull orange light of the city.

“…but I’m going to find the stars.”

He knew they were up there somewhere.

*** *** ***

The night was clear as Victor once again meandered through the empty graveyard. He felt like there was greatness among the dead, among their memories. It was a strength that he could not quite identify but would always treasure. It was as if he was among friends, among brothers. It was as if he could hear their voices, all whispering secrets to him about lessons learned long ago.

Climbing a small hill, he stared up at the majesty of the night sky filled with stars that cities had long forgotten. However, the stillness and tranquility were pierced by laughter and the dull light of a bonfire the University was hosting less than a quarter mile away across campus. It was clearly visible from where Victor stood. As the wind blew through Victor’s long, black jacket and dark hair, he made a promise to himself.

Someday…Someday I will be a part of them…Someday I’ll come back…Someday I’ll have my adventure…Someday…I will realize my dreams…

But what were his dreams? Victor had spent long days, even years, wondering what to believe in anymore. For so long he had dreamed of best friends, good times, and a love of his life…a wife. However all his pursuits of such seemed to convince him that none of these were things that he could obtain, and even if he could obtain them they weren’t what he was actually looking for. They were prescriptions for something going on in him that he was still trying to figure out. He wanted something more than all those things put together. He believed in something great, but he just didn’t know what it was.

The flames of the bonfire reflected in his eyes just a few moments more and then vanished as Victor turned his back to the whole affair.

For now, I’m better off on my own.

With that, Victor wandered again into the darkness, letting it surround him in its concealing embrace. It was in his solitude that his soul felt nurtured, but he knew there was more out there, more to experience, more to explore, more to love and be loved by.

Yes, for now I am better off on my own.

Haunting Dreams

I've finished this past semester. It was probably one of the most difficult, time-consuming workloads I've ever waded through, but I made it. I've done well, better than I thought. Looking back, and looking forward, I am excited about where I am, where I've been, and where I'm going. Walking away from working six hours on coding (on a Saturday after a busy week), I sighed happily knowing that when all is said and done, even despite the stress, I love wrestling great challenges, and I love coding.



The race is not done yet.



Sometimes I'll dream about the final two weeks of school and the workload I had crushing down on me. It's sort of like a nightmare, but thankfully when I wake up, I breathe a sigh of relief and go back to sleep, knowing I've come through okay, that I did my best. That leg of the race is finished.



Some dreams don't dissipate after I wake up, though. In my dreams, I'm running track/cross country again. I hated track and cross country. I hated them with a passion. I didn't even do track my senior year, I was sick and tired of running for other people. Riding the bus to and from meets, I would put my headphones on and close my eyes, trying to be anywhere but where I was. Emotionally I was probably the most raw and the most bottled up I had ever been in my life. I guess, I was raw to myself, but bottled up to everyone else.



I initially went out to do track for fun. I figured it wouldn't be something to take too serious, and it would be something to do. It hurt a lot to get in shape and endure practices, but I did it. I was going to stick with it. However, the meets terrified me, and that terror eventually led to hatred of and depression over the expectations and pressure that acccompanied the sport. I felt so alone out on the track, feeling like the world was watching me, hating me. Despite all this, I stuck with it, and began to feel a companionship with my fellow teammates and even with my coach. So because of that, I stuck with the sport, and proceeded to do cross country. Also, a girl I had a huge crush on was probably doing cross country too.



During the summer I trained for cross country. I would do the best I could to stay true to the daily requirements for running and getting in shape. Lance and I would go to the school and run in the evenings. Those were some of the greatest times I had that summer, just great times as we talked over things and became better friends. Neither of us were sure what to expect in that coming year of cross country, but one night we timed ourselves on the mile track we would run and found out that our time was pretty good. For the first time in my life, I realized I might actually be able to compete. I didn't feel inferior.



The hour before our first practice I called Lance, seeing how he would feel if I didn't do cross country. It might not have been quite so clear that that was what I was getting at, but I found out enough that I should probably go ahead and do it, having invested so much in it already. So I went to the first practice. We lined up to do our first race, seeing how we all placed relative to each other. I looked over at Aaron, who was our top runner, and told myself "whatever you do, you stay right behind him." The race started, and I endured the pain, the heat, and the fear, finishing right behind him, second overall.



I'll never forget one particular meet. I ran behind Aaron, and eventually lost track of him. I pressed on as hard as I could, but the pain was tearing me apart. I was beginning to get tendonitis, my throat was completely dry, and my stomach was cramping like nothing else. I finished hard, running my best time that season. After crossing the finish line, I propped myself up against a large dumpster, dizzy and blacking out. Joel came up and talked to me, making sure I was okay, and eventually we went back to our team camp. However, I never forgot that pain.



For the rest of the year, whether in cross country or track, I didn't run as well. For a while I suffered from tendonitis and hobbled around with a pitiful limp. After that, though, fear got the best of me.



My senior year, running cross country, my fear melted into hatred, and every race I ran I ran against that hatred, fighting to just finish the race. It didn't bother me that I came in so far behind the rest of my teammates, I just wanted it all to be done. I hated it. I had realized that besides the pain, there were also the cold expectations of people who made demands of me but didn't care about me. And because I despised those expectations, I purposely let them down. I purposely left my heart out of it. I ran to finish, not to win.



Our very last race came. If we did well enough, we would move on. I just wanted it to be over. But as I warmed up with the team, I made a new resolve. I was going to run myself to the death in this race. No matter what pain, no matter what fear, I was going to channel it all into getting past whoever was in front of me. I was going to run for me. Like that first day of practice, I was resolved to spill everything I had. I had nothing more to lose. It was our last race. I might as well go out with a bang.



I ran with a vengeance. It was something I had always felt in myself but for the first time was coming out. It was furious resolve. It was the thrill of the fight. I'm not sure how else to describe it, I feel like the words I'm choosing don't do it justice. Regardless, I ran to the finish, never giving up, always pressing harder and harder. I crossed the finish line and stumbled to a stop. Straightening up, I realized that I wasn't short on breath, and I didn't even have the cramping muscles and stomach that i normally did. I had ran an 18:40. It was my best ever.



I didn't do track my senior year. I told myself I was tired of the fight and wanted to relax, wanted to have the time to hang out with my friends and enjoy the rest of my senior year. The truth: I was afraid.



Since high school I've always wondered what I could've have actually done had I poured myself into the fight. I wonder if things would have been different, if I would have had a closer companionship with the team and my coach, even my family. I wonder if I would still look at myself the same way, upset and disappointed.



In my dreams I'm preparing for a new race, a new season. I have another chance. I'm going to spill everything I have into it, I'm going to devote myself to staring down my fear with the furious resolve I had in my last race. I am going to win, if not against other people, then at least against myself. I am going to relish the fight.



But then I wake up.



At least there's more to life.

The Dirt Tastes Rich

After that last post I've been doing a lot of thinking this weekend. I went home with Lauren, and my family and I (and Lauren) went to a wedding up north. It was a good weekend, a lot of time to talk and hang out, and especially a lot of time to think.



The other day instead of going straight to work, I decided to take a detour. While I don't always live up to it, that's one of my "important goal things": Take the detour. So, I stopped in at the library and looked around at my leisure and for my own interests. Looking at the new arrivals a new book caught my eye. It's called "I woke up Screening: What to do after you've made that movie." I didn't really think it'd be a book that really related to my particular circumstances too much, but I figured what they hey, I'll see what it is. I didn't plan on ever trying to make a movie and go it alone, I'd figured I'd sell a screenplay and work my way from there.



But on the way up north, I read the first two chapters. It dealt mostly with getting effective feedback on your work (written or shot) before taking it to the next level. It mostly dealt with how many people go to Sundance and are like "this is my first public screening of my movie!" This was encouraging. Encouraging, because it shows me that most people don't know what they're doing, which means that I'm neck and neck with them.



It takes about $100,000 dollars to produce an independent film.



The people doing this aren't computer science majors, accounting majors, or communication majors. They're just people who want to do it. And apparently, they find the money.



What about us who will probably have that money?



They were talking about the thrill and excitement, nerves and stress, defeat and victory that people experience at film festivals. I know that it doesn't really compare, but I remember when we first debuted Psychotherapy 2. It was such an amazing feeling, such a thrill, such a rush. Even though I felt like I was going to be sick, I loved it. I had created a child, and while it might not have been the best, its existence was enough to make me beam with pride. It's still something I consider one of my greatest accomplishments (probably even more so than what I talked about in the last post because this accomplishment was so close to my heart).



When I stood in front of my class at graduation and delivered my speech, there was one particular quote that came to me. "Even if I fall on my face, I'll still be able to look myself in the eye, because I know I tried." Sometimes trying is victory enough, even if our attempts are overwhelmed by seeming defeat.



I hope I have opportunity to enter a film festival. I hope I have opportunity to chase a dream, to risk the normal and the safe for the wild and adventurous. Because maybe a dream isn't so much fulfilled by turning it into reality so much as it is by at least dreaming it. Even if I'm ignored at a festival, even if I burned $100,000...I still dreamed the dream. The dirt tastes rich.



Psychotherapy Productions.



It's not just a threat, world, it's a promise.

Soldier

The sun was shining when I left the classroom. I thought I had done well. I'd been doing the homework, understanding the concepts, and just generally keeping up with things. This was a brief moment, though, contrasting a downward spiral that began the morning before.



Thursday morning I sat in Java ready for the class and ready for the school year in general. I was excited about life, ready to eat it up. I was watching my dreams come to fruition, I had just completed my second draft of my first screenplay and my friends and I were planning to write another one. However, instead of our professor beginning class that day, we had a guest speaker. This guest speaker was from career services, and he was telling us how to build our resumes and sell ourselves, getting an internship and eventually a job.



Throughout that class period my heart sank lower and lower. When I left, I was distraught, devastated. It wasn't just my dreams that were coming to fruition, but also multiple key decisions I've made in the past few years. Within two years I will be in the rat race, fighting for a job, fighting for my right to life in our society.



I chose my degree for the challenge, counting on the job for the money. I don't want to actually excel in this field, though. In evaluating how to afford my dreams, I felt it would be best if I did something in school that would end up getting me enough money and resource to finance my aspirations for film. I also wanted respect, something that people would nod their heads in approval of and congratulate me for. That thursday morning, I realized that it wouldn't be enough. While I might be making a good business decision, what about me?



Today I got my test back. Instead of being the nearly 100% I thought I'd earned, it was much lower. I know I'll get through the class just fine and probably even pull off an A- if not an A, but it was still really discouraging. It wasn't because I did worse than I thought. It was because it complemented something I'd been realizing since Thursday: I don't belong.



At OSU, we were all in the major together. We were fighting for our lives in physics, being pressed beyond what we'd ever been expected of before. I fought for my life, I fought hard. I spent hours in the math lab being tutored, hours studying and doing practice exams. I also spent time with classmates, and sometimes just for fun, not just because classwork necessitated it. We were a band of brothers. I always looked forward to the exams and finals. They were so nerve-racking and strenuous, but when we finished, we would stand outside and talk about it. We'd talk about the class, talk about the test, and just share the struggle together, sharing part of our lives with each other. Excelling in those classes were some of the proudest moments of my life, not because I stood out, and not because I would sometimes score the highest on tests. I was proud because I was responsible for myself, proud for acheiving things I didn't think I could find myself capable of. But I was also proud to fit in with my band of brothers, proud to share the fight with others like me who struggled and fought.



I belonged.



Then I came back to Cedarville. For the past year I've been struggling and fighting, trying to keep up with the courses and care about the material. But there is no math lab this time. There is no band of brothers. I've intruded into a class younger than me that has already established itself without me. They're smart, they're sharp, they're connected, they fit in. At first I thought I didn't fit in because I was just unsure if I was qualified for the classes. I'd broken some prerequisites and didn't know exactly if I'd been placed where I should've been. I'd skipped the beginning and been placed in the middle somewhere. I finished the year with all A's (with an exception of 2 A-'s). I knew then that I was qualified.



But I still didn't fit in.



Today as my professor was handing back the tests, he got to mine. He looked up and said my name a couple times, trying to find me. I raised my hand and he walked to the back to hand my test back. "I should've known to look in the back of the class, that's where you always are," he muttered. He meant no offense. But this was significant to me. It was some of the first feedback I'd received about myself beyond my grades and coursework. I also found out earlier this week some other feedback, opinions about myself from other classmates. They weren't flattering, but they were accurate. The material does go over my head a lot.



I don't sit in the back of the classroom because I'm bored, angry, or upset with the professor. I sit in the back because it's closest to the exit. It's a personality thing. If I feel confined, sick, or anything else, I can leave without causing much disruption or attracting any attention. I just need to always have an exit. I also don't like to be called on in class and try very hard to be inconspicuous. I don't need to affirm to people how much the material goes over my head. I'd rather struggle through it later. Alone.



I'm also very poor at facial expression. I've realized I look like either a pot head or a man ready to explode when I'm sitting in my classes. And this is in my favorite classes. I don't show the interest and enthusiasm I have in a subject because I just physically can't. For some reason, I fail in facial expression. That's why I write, that's why I want to go into film. Everything I haven't been able to convey for so long I'm finally learning to bring out in this art.



I don't know what my professor was thinking when he made the comment about me sitting in the back. It's nothing personal with him, and if anything his two classes are my favorite this year, and he's one of my favorite professors. I hated last year's class with him, but I learned that it was actually more profitable than I realized at the time. I still remember a lot of advice he would give in class about how to get a grip on material and how to study and how to prepare. I've implemented a lot of it into how I operate in my classes this year.



But he doesn't know that. They don't know who I am, what I think, how I think, or why. It's not so much that I feel dethroned having left OSU, but rather I feel cold, alone. I'm not fighting with a band of brothers, I'm stranded and fighting for my life. I'm fighting to prove myself...if anything just to myself. The air is very cold, and the sky is very dark.



I was talking with my friend Doug the other day and we realized we both had chosen our majors for somewhat the same reason. He put it like this: "All men wish they'd been soldiers." (That's true in the literal and figurative sense in my case). We could've done something we'd loved, something more interesting, something we'd be more passionate about. But everytime we'd walk through the engineering building we'd always know..."I could've done that." As for me, I've proven I couldn't live with that knowledge that "maybe I could've been something more." I still shoot for my dreams. But in reality, I have to afford those dreams. If I wasn't going to pursue film directly, I wanted to at least have the self-satisfaction of completing something technical, and getting lots of money for it afterwards. And it wasn't just to have money and be rich, but to use that money to hire an agent, a manager, to travel, to do something to launch my film career.



Since thursday morning, I've been reevaluating it all, though. Is it worth the cost? Was this the best path? Has my pride sacrificed my passions?



Ultimately, I think my conclusion is that regardless what happens, God'll take care of me, no matter how much I mess up. I am still worth something, no matter if I'm not smart enough, rich enough, or popular enough. I'm still a somebody even if I don't fit in.



Even if the air is cold and the sky is dark.



Even if I have no band of brothers.

An Inconvenient Post

Recently my friend Joey and I made a spontaneous trip to the dollar theater and ended up seeing Al Gore's movie "An Inconvenient Truth." Now, I've been raised not only conservative, but Republican, and I remember that Al Gore was that evil man who ran against the saintly Bush in the 2000 election. Being that I'm now older and exploring the world for myself, I was excited to hear what he had to say for myself. Initially I laughed at the melodrama, but that faded as who Gore was and what he was really trying to say took center stage. The message of the movie was not only convicting, but also seemingly sincere (and, yes, I do understand that producers intentionally doctor it to be so). In the end, not only am I more convinced about Global Warming and the human contribution, but I'm also persuaded that Gore himself is not as bad or incompetent as I would have presupposed.



Global warming is something that I am now convinced of as something humans have instigated but can also be a solution to. Yes, the process of warming and cooling is a recorded cycle not only in history but in prehistory. But in these records we do not find a parallel for what we are experiencing. When these records are compared with our increased CO2 output, there is a direct correlation that is so striking we can't ignore it. There is definitely a richer science to all of this, but one can see the movie or study it for oneself to get a better grip on it all. I do acknowledge that I still drive my car and ultimately have not made many changes to my lifestyle, but that is mostly because as a college student I am unable to do anything except take what life has dealt me (for instance, I don't have the money to go out and buy a hybrid...and I don't have the money to pay for my average CO2 output being taken out of the atmosphere...). Regardless, I am motivated to make appropriate changes and decisions as I have opportunity, and as the movie demonstrated even the smallest of contributions can have large impacts.



I do not consider myself to be the victim of a liberal democrat's propoganda, but as a reasonable, level-headed person striving for a sincere education about my earth, society, and profession I believe that in seeing his movie I gained valuable lessons not only in global warming, or even only in politics, but in the human condition. The disappointment and perseverance of Al Gore is something that I admire, even though I disagree with him on many things. I feel that my heartlessness towards Gore was largely due to ignorance, which I believe is one of main problems this country is facing (I don't really mean ignorance of global warming but ignoranace of our fellow man). However, ignorance is always second to self-delusion.


People don't wrestle through what's right and wrong anymore. They live by their color coded map of life, seeing only red and blue. We are told what to think, but this is without the complement of also being taught how to think. While many fight for human rights and are anti-abortion, I think that it's tragically ironic that these same people are the ones who violate human dignity and mutual respect of one another, fighting to leave nothing standing but themselves and their beliefs regardless the cost. Education today has lost something...and I think it might be intelligence.

"Back Street's Back...All right!"

Currently I'm living in the back streets of Cedarville. I've finally moved into my house and am ecstatic with how everything has turned out. It's better than I had even imagined. It really feels like a home. Knowing I'll finally have a "home" this year will really help me get through the desert and trials of school, which I'm not ultimately looking forward to.

This is mostly just a transitional post, letting you know what context my future posts may be coming from.

Here I go again

The past few weeks I have been moving furniture into the house I'm leasing for the following school year. It has been exciting for the following reason: I am once again on my own. I never realized how much differently I viewed myself, and even the world, when I can be on my own. That is, I didn't realize it until I gave my independence up again when I returned to dorm life last year. During this past year I've come to realize that I hate dorm life, hate it with a passion. I didn't like it freshman year, and fled from it sophomore year, but thought I could handle it if I gave it another try. Wrong.




The reason I don't like dorm life is the same reason I never liked camp. While coordinators and various authorities deny it, I really am on a leash when I live in the dorms. I'm told when to be back, I'm told when I can leave (which happens to be 12am weeknights and 5am weekmornings...slight difference during the weekend). I can not own certain appliances such as things that would burn the dorm down (electric grills, etc.), things that would be too big (like a full-size refrigerator), or things that would be reasonable (like a television).



Regardless, I'm back on my own. The day I got my letter allowing me off campus I drove around looking at the world in a whole new light. It was once again an ocean of opportunity, once again full of hopes, dreams, and aspirations. Before it had been fairly dismal and dull...even mind-numbingly irritating. As the Tick (whose show is on again on toon disney ...you can't see it but I winked at you right now) would say "Sometimes you just have to do something but keep your mind somewhere else as you try to convince yourself that 'this just isn't happening right now.'"



At my new house there's a big weeping willow in the front yard. I plan on many an evening taking a coffee/tea break under there and just watching the world go by as I listen to birds (which we have a lot of) play and sing. I really didn't have that opportunity living on campus because I had no sanctuary to call my own. (No criticism of the school, just the way things were vs. the way I am.)



Regardless, I'm excited. Life looks good. I never really thought about it until recently, but there's going to be a life after college. I'm still going to be young, in my twenties, experiencing new things and climbing new mountains. I look forward to that because I'm tired of school. Being able to live off campus will help immensely in getting me through to the other side of graduation...which is really where I want to be. However, I've lived long enough to know that I'm a fool if I overlook the time I have now. Therefore, carpe diem...or as is often my case...carpe notche.

Dark and Difficult Times Lay Ahead

Harry Potter woke up to another day at Hogwarts, or at least, another afternoon.
"Oh no, I've overslept again! Darn that muggle potion!" Recently Harry had been having trouble sleeping because he was constantly thinking about his parents being killed by Lord Voldemort. This horrible pseudo-memory had haunted Harry from the day he first learned the truth about his past. What made these past few weeks different, though, was that people were finally sick of hearing it. Most of Harry's friends were conveniently busy or just literally disappearing the moment he drew near. Once, as Harry walked alone down a dark hall, he could've sworn he heard someone speaking in parseltongue whispering, "I'm sorry I even attacked your parents to begin with..." Only Harry Potter's faithful friend (or parasitical nuisance) remained. "I'll stay with you to the end Harry!" And oh how Hogwarts prayed that end would come soon, knowing that Ron was even worse than Harry.



Regardless, Harry had been having trouble sleeping and so he had been taking Tylenol PM. He found it caused less of a hangover compared to whatever the doctor at Hogwarts gave him. "Ready for a new day to seize, Harry?" Ron asked. Ron had woken up on time as usual, but had not wanted to start another day without Harry. Therefore, he had been quietly sitting up in his bed staring at Harry for the past 5 hours. "Not if this day is going to be as bad as all the days of my pitiful life have been before it," replied Harry. "Ha! Like you have something to complain about! I've spent so many years suffering from self-pity that I've actually begun to grow Spazdinglers under my chin!" Harry didn't quite understand, but decided it'd be wiser to not pry deeper into that comment.



Suddenly, Dumbledore burst into the dormitory. "Harry! Voldemort is storming the castle! You have to come with me now!" Harry jumped out of bed. "Voldemort killed my parents!" Dumbledore quickly pushed Harry and Ron out of the dormitory. "I know! We all know...oh how we all know!" They rushed down a nearby hall and to the top of the castle, entering the top of the observation deck (attached to the astronomy lab). Waiting for them was Snape, Hermione, and Draco Malfoy (standing in front of, as usual, Crabbe and Goyle). This sight seemed odd to Harry, particularly since Malfoy was holding hands with Hermione.



"So, Potter, you've come at last...you slept through your potions lesson today...tsk tsk," spoke Snape grimly. "There's no time Severus! The dark lord will be here any minute!" Dumbledore shouted, wind blowing through his long white beard.
"It's too late! He's already here!" yelled Hermione, squeezing Draco's hand tighter.
Ron, running up to Hermione, began to whine. "Why are you holding his hand? I thought you were going to get together with me! It's because I'm so poor isn't it! And pitiful! I knew it, I always knew that the inevitable and unfortunate circumstances I was born into would always plague my life and deprive me of happiness! I'm so poor! And I'm not even firstborn! I'm like...something else, but not even the baby of the family! There's nothing special about me! I hate myself!" Everyone stood in awkward silence for a minute. However, only Harry had a tear in his eye...and his tongue ready. "So! I grew up with muggles who abused me and then Voldemort..."



An interrupting but obviously fake (and far too prolonged) cough rang out as Voldemort finally revealed himself from behind Snape. "Hello Harry. I'm sorry, Albus, for getting here a little earlier than you planned, but you know, timeliness is next to godliness..." Draco chuckled and whispered to Hermione "clever." Crabbe and Goyle, not really getting any joke and not really comprehending their own existence only realized that Draco was doing something they immediately needed to imitate. Up and down their tummy's went as they tried to imitate Draco's laughing. Crabbe looked like he was about to fart.



Finally, Dumbledore spoke, "We're gathered here today to deal with what can no longer be delayed." Suddenly Voldemort piped in, "excuse me, but are those...lemon drops?" Dumbledore looked thoughtfully at Voldemort. Snape rolled his eyes. Hermione and Draco looked at each other and giggled. Crabbe and Goyle nearly died trying to imitate that. "Why, yes...would you like one?" Voldemort approached Dumbledore, eyes gleaming, tongue whisping in and out. "I haven't had one of these since I stopped at that muggle store the night before I killed Lily and James!" Voldemort looked them over lustfully and then popped a few into his mouth.



"You killed my parents!" shouted Harry. "Put a sock in it, Potter!" yelled Snape, waving his wand. Suddenly a sock appeared in Harry's mouth. "Severus! What are you thinking?" Dumbledore waved his wand and both the sock and Harry's mouth disappeared. "He might've spit that out and started again!" Snape hung his head, Dumbledore was right. "You can't do this! Harry is my friend! My only friend! My only friend in the whole wide..." Ron began to cry, but then Hermione interrupted him. "Ron, we've been 'friends' for a while now, but let's face it, I need a man...a man's man." Hermione swooned into Malfoy's arms, as he grinned a big conniving grin. "She's right, you know," Malfoy added. Goyle tried to fall into Crabbe's arms but he only ended up hurting himself. "Ron, you said something that I want to clarify. You said you weren't special, but you are special Ron. You're a very very very, exceptionally and like no other, annoying person. Anyway Ron, I'm sorry, but...you have to go...we made an agreement with the Spiders in the forest and you're going to go with them." "I hate spiders...more than I hate myself!" shouted Ron. "We know, boy, we know..." inserted Dumbledore..."but sometimes we have to think about the good of the student body...and the Spider's health. You have so much energy...but you misuse it, annoying all of us and only becoming an ever more attractive prey to the spiders." Ron frantically looked around and then waved his wand at Harry, reversing Dumbledore's spell. Harry wasted no time. "What sort of agreement is this?" exclaimed Harry. Voldemort was still trying to finish his lemon drops...tears in his eyes, "boy they really get sour at the end." "We give him Ron, and Ron never is seen again," replied Snape. "What's going to happen to him!" exclaimed Harry again. "Oh please," droled Hermione, "We get the better deal."
Suddenly a large spider appeared and took a screaming Ron away.

TO BE CONTINUED

"Screw You All"

"We've all been through it... high school...or at least part of it. Regardless, the fallacies of this institution can be found reflected in every other facet of life (whether in the work place or the allegedly more mature college): The petty popularity contests, the gossip, the pressure to conform, and just the overall lust and ferocity people relish as they destroy the weak...the supposed weak...people like me. Fuckers. All of them. But aren't we all. I was sick of it. At least, they were sick of me. Regardless, what I did was logical. For every action is an equal and opposite reaction. I've watched them ruin lives, destroy futures, shatter hopes...what I did was only more condensed...quicker...purer. I killed them. I remember walking into school that day...apprehensive...but determined. This was going to be my day...and I also remember how it felt, watching them run, scream, and crumple to the floor. The tears, the blood, the sirens, the chaos...it was art...and I was the artist. Finally I stood above them, finally I had the power...I even imagined that as they lied dying on the floor they were really just bowing to me, bowing to the god I finally revealed I was. But I wasn't a god, I know that now, and of all my crimes that was my worst...however, of all my wrongs...of all of anyone's wrongs...I think it can be traced back to that specific sin: blasphemous arrogance as we stand in ignorance of our Creator, believing ourselves to be gods. I know better now, but what does it matter, there aren't any more chances in hell. Forgive me, I digress. The smoke was thick in those halls, but I loved it, watching it wisp in the air, feeling it burn my throat. My ears seemed to shatter (certainly not my heart though...haha) everytime I pulled that trigger, but I loved it, I survived it, unlike some of the other shitbags. Some of them begged for their lives, but what did I care, I watched countless others beg for theirs in the face of their criticism and incessant persecution. They all get what they deserve. We all get what we deserve. I used to believe life was meant to be full of love, dreams, hopes, friendships...goodness...people were naturally and ultimately good....but who can keep believing that after going through high school....or looking in a mirror. Shit. That's what it all went to, as the cops surrounded the building and my comrad and I realized that there was no escape. So, we did one favor to everyone, we killed ourselves. I remember watching my friend put the gun in his mouth and pull the trigger. That was the real tragedy, we were the real victims. Later they pointed fingers, tried to blame our actions as the consequence of violent music, movies...who knows what else. They just try to cover up the truth, unable to come to terms with it. It's easier for them to believe I'm a freak, that I'm an exception. But I'm not. Why? Let me finish with this, a question. Am I merely the product of society, or ultimately as we all are, a son of Adam?"




The following above is just something I'd thought of while vacuuming in the cafeteria at school one day. However, recently an RPG game came out on the internet that allows you to play as the Columbine shooters. To win, you have to kill. To read more about it check out the following link:


Columbine Victim Talks About Columbine RPG





Video games are to some extent art, but they are primarily entertainment, unless you are a serious gamer...someone who might actually be deep enough to understand there's more than a surface to a game. Regardless, people who look for meaning and inspiration in video games are a minority. That's what makes this game so disturbing, is that what we normally enjoy as entertainment is now being used to make us participate in one of the greatest tragedies of our nation. Is that really the point of it, though, to horrify us? I don't think it's to help us understand Columbine more, it's too tactless...although it does have some class. Ultimately I'll just have to agree with Richard in the above article: it's a mixed message.





However, I really wonder about people. Back in my own high school experience I took a current events class. It was really great, I loved the diversity and challenge it brought. There was one article in particular, though, that I remember reading. I've kept it, even until today. It's really thought-provocative. It talks about one of the terrorists that were responsible for the 9-11 attacks. He had been a college student here in the US, he had attended our universities. What changed him? What changed him from being someone you didn't think twice about when you bumped into him in the cafeteria? Can you imagine how his professors feel? "He used to sit over there...raising his hand, answering so many questions...such a great student..."



I was talking about this with lance the other day and he added how he had heard so many stories about people like this man who were just continuously provoked during their time here in the states. For instance, while they would be praying they would leave their shoes outside the room they were in. Other college students would come and steal the shoes, harass them, and just overall be annoying. The disrespect they show simply infuriates me, as do all the stories of the priveleged harassing and persecuting the weak. But, more and more, I have to force myself to look in the mirror. Who is it looking back?



Add this to other examples of people in the world such as Ghandi, Marilyn Manson, and others. They all tell stories about their past, explaining the reason they are what they are. Look into it, it's interesting. And in all of this, though, I just have to ask: what are we? Are we all simply products of society, or just ultimately sons of Adam?



In seeing how awful things are, how awful we are, how awful I am, I'm glad God is who He is, and I'm glad that even though death and sin spread to all men through Adam, Jesus came and offers grace, eternal life, righteousness...that he took the punishment we deserved by dying for us, and then rose again, showing how He conquered sin, death (the result of sin), and was who He said He was: the new Adam. The Son of God. This gives me hope, knowing I'm not condemned to be just another son of Adam, knowing that we're not condemned to be just the offspring of Adam.

"I haven't told you what to think yet!"

For the past few weeks I have been falling more and more in love with the Colbert Report. I don't have Cable (oh but I will...just wait till I move into that house I leased...) but Adam does, and he records it for Lance and I to watch (primarily me, because Lance has Cable and already has normally seen it). I think it's intelligent (off color at times, but hey, this isn't channel 51....*shivers*) and isn't necessarily so offensive as thought-provocative (not to mention entertaining). However, he had several guests on recently whose sentiments I very much enjoyed. He interviewed Tony Campolo and Madeleine Albright.

I don't know much about Tony Campolo, but what he had to say on the Colbert report I agreed with. He is a member of the "Christian left" (oxymoron? don't be too quick to judge...) and argued that he's neither strictly Democrat nor Republican, it all depends on the issue. He expressed how he had come under fire from the Christian right (just as ridiculous in my opinion as there being a Christian left) for his liberal views (as well as, I assume, for being Bill Clinton's spiritual advisor). He argued, though, that politics today are reducing Americans, Christians in particular, into a polarized mess. He went on to say that Jesus transcends politics and is not simply a member of the Republican party.

A few episodes later, Colbert interviewed Madeleine Albright, who had just written a book on religion in America. She argued for a seperation of church from state, saying we should not mingle the two together. On top of this, she pointed out how dangerous Bush was with his faith, having a "certainty" in what he did that wouldn't allow for doubts, questions, or "back-up plans". She wanted to clarify that there is a difference between "us being on God's side" and "God being on our side" and that confusion of this is a very slippery slope leading to a lot of trouble.

Thirdly, after watching the Colbert Report one night, Adam turned on the end of Boston Legal. One of the main characters (I don't know who, I'm not familiar with the show) was talking at the end and said the following (the following is paraphrased): The problem with people today is that they don't wrestle through anything to determine whether it's really right or wrong. We've reduced ourselves to a ridiculous colorful map of red and blue and wait for what we believe to be handed to us from our respective parties.

I really appreciate (although don't completely agree with) these arguments above. They are particularly interesting to me since I spend the school year on a highly conservative campus (fox news is the only tv we need). On campus, there is more and more a schism created by politics, as our campus newspaper spirals into a liberal oblivion while a fanatic right persecutes people mercilessly (and sometimes unintelligibly).

My own opinion is that politics today have reduced people from intelligent and creative beings into, well, basically sheep. This is dangerous. Where is tolerance (not the bologna definition of tolerance in saying "everyone's right" or "nobody's wrong" but the legitimate tolerance of "we don't agree, but I can still respect you as a person anyway") and understanding? We polarize everything and escalate our politics to the extent that it dehumanizes people who disagree and labels them as enemies. And for some reason, we don't want to stop until these enemies are totally vanquished. We can't just be secure in our own beliefs, we have to try to convince (or eliminate) opponents. Let's face it, if you want to change the world, I would seriously reconsider your methods if you're trying to do it through politics and government. Besides, the more debate escalates and the more we dehumanize each other, the less we become an independent people. Parties should be concerned about people, not power... and we need a two-party system to maintain our democracy (and not a two party system implying that one is right and the other is wrong) so that more than just one voice rules. I more and more become afraid that America is blindly losing the independence we take for granted.

The church stayed out of government for a long time (no official endorsment of a party or candidate) and the big fear had been government getting into the church. I really don't think that the church should endorse candidates or parties (Bush, republicans) as a whole (even though as individuals we should vote as our faith leads us) . The fear now is the church getting involved in government. If the church feels its responsibility is to represent Christ in the world, I think we should do it through the means and methods of love, understanding, kindness, diligence, and faithfulness as presented in the Bible, rather than means of politics which only polarize and distance people. Like Campolo said, Christ transcends politics. It is not the church's aim to make the US a "Christian nation" (and I'm not so convinced that the US even started out at such). I think the church needs to back off the whole "Christian nation" argument and start living out their faith instead of trying to force it on other people. If we believe that sincerity consists of a personal decision, why in the world do we look for legislation to enforce our beliefs?

On the other hand, I am afraid about how much is being tossed out of schools and jobs, no longer being able to speak of religion and other hot topics that might offend people. My goodness, let's stop trying to make ourselves "nice and homogeneous" and start learning how to respect our differences, even appreciate them. Otherwise, I feel we sacrifice the very independence/freedom that we boast America holds. If someone gets offended, tough: time for them to grow up instead of running to a superior and tattling ("my feelings were hurt! owwwiee! Do something, like fire them! I have emotional difficulty in hearing opinions other than my own!")

Having taken History 152 at OSU and tracing political parties since the birth of the US, I think that my professor was right in saying "people vote how their parents vote." Again, this kind of reflects the argument presented at the end of Boston legal: people don't wade through difficult issues and try to determine right from wrong. I think this is a particular concern for Cedarville, where Campus Republicans are experiencing a time of power... a "third reich" if you will. I think that the Republican party is not the "Christian party" but the party that finally hijacked the Christian vote. They make empty promises and boast of morality they can legislate (...which is dangerous....but that's a whole other issue).

Keep the church out of government and the government out of the church. Neither is the other's agent of action. Like Campolo said, I vote according to what I believe about the issue, not according to what my party believes about the issue: I am neither strictly Democrat nor strictly Republican.

To relax this seperation, I think, compromises both our democracy and our faith.

"Outgrown you...that is the term I've been looking for"

Formerly (and I guess technically currently) I was (am) subscribed to xanga. A few friends told me it would be cool so I went ahead and jumped off the cliff with them. "I can express myself and really create a world in which people come to appreciate my charm but also sympathize with my painful, white, middle-class circumstances." Well, there were ups and downs, but I've come to realize that I needed to mature in my blogging, and so, I followed some other friends in getting this blog. I hope I can publish pieces that demonstrate my cool wit and also bring readers to admire my battle which I fondly refer to as "life."

Well, not really.

I mostly just want a place where I can write, starting over on a clean slate. I also wanted to join this particular blog-brand because, as I've hung from the wrungs of the monkey bars of life, I've come to realize it's like a family...but it's also an army of one, and it's no place for wimps.

So here I am.

Well, the Da Vinci Code is coming out to theaters. I don't think I'm going to go see it. As a Christian, even though I know it's a piece of fiction, I still don't think I would be comfortable watching a movie that makes my Lord and Savior out to be a fraud. For instance, say that I hypothetically have a friend named Adam. Now, Adam and I have been friends since the sixth grade. Now, let's say that a movie is coming out that says Adam is a fraud and has a kid somewhere to continue a bloodline that must be kept secret (and hopefully seperate) from the world. As a person, I can recognize that movie has no particular basis and is solely fiction, a work for entertainment. However, as Adam's friend, I just wouldn't go see the movie out of respect for him, and also it would bother me to see my friend get trashed. I'm not going to necessarily say this is how it should be for all people, I'm just saying that personally, this is my decision. You will not find me out front shouting and carrying a sign. I don't really believe this is the rule, because people, especially Christians (the hot group of interest in regards to this particular movie), may have different reasons for seeing it that are justifiable. However, I just don't think I could watch it for entertainment's sake.

This weekend I watched the Goblet of Fire with my girlfriend. She's read all the books, as well as most of my friends. I tried to read them, but I couldn't get past the second book. I just didn't like them and just wanted to scream the death curse. Lately, though, I've had a renewed interest in them and think that I will try once again to wade through the world of Harry Potter. However, one series I really want to read is the Ender Series. I read the first one, Ender's Game, and loved it. I think that science fiction/fantasy is one of my favorite genres.

Well, that sums up the first post. A little hodge-podge but I'm just kind of feeling it out, breaking the ice. The next post will be on TBA and what we can do about it.