The Wally Blog

By the way...

2010-01-24T17:15:00.001-08:00

So I have now actually relocated my blogging activities, limited though they may be. If you're interested, the new blog is at sensoremotor.wordpress.com. Thanks for reading!

A reality check

2009-07-31T14:07:00.001-07:00

Tee hee...

Compliments of xkcd.

"Look at the stars..."

2009-07-12T10:11:00.000-07:00

One of the best birthday presents I may have ever received was four tickets to see Coldplay at the Gorge, which I, my sister and two friends did last night.
It. Was. Amazing. Whether they’re aware of it or not, I really think these British guys are doing God's work. The whole concert (and the general experience with their music, especially the newer stuff) was/is a celebration of beauty, it seemed to me. Their music is so positive, but not in a saccharine or forced way. Their performance was so opulent, visceral, beautiful…yes, I would definitely say transcendent. While other contemporary musicians are whining about breakups or bragging about their sexual conquests or just making angry noise, Coldplay is (are?) making music that is genuinely uplifting in a performance whose passion and beauty really smacks of the divine. I realize this is flowery, melodramatic language on my part, and this may be due somewhat to how exhausted I still am. But I honestly believe it to be true. And it’s just one other reason why I think God is most definitely at work in today’s pop culture; even though there is a great deal of ugly, insincere, wasteful garbage out there, there is also a great deal of stuff that is charged with creativity, beauty and energy that can only come from God, because it is from God that these things flow.
Coldplay, obviously, seem(s?) to form one such conduit.

Anarchy!

2009-07-10T17:59:00.000-07:00

If I've been paying any attention lately to the philosophical battle in which the Church is entangled, I've learned that there are at least two worldviews which are fundamentally opposed to everything a good Catholic stands for. The first is materialism; the idea that the physical is all there is, that life came about from the random crashing of atoms, asteroids and amino acids and that any perception of love or beauty is merely an evolved reaction brought to you by neurotransmitters. The second is relativism; truth is what you make it, and everything is different for everyone. At least, that's more or less the perception I get of both these ideas.
One thing that both of these worldviews have in common is a proclivity towards atheism. Not my cup of tea, for reasons that should be obvious to anyone who peruses the archives of this blog. The second would be the idea that there is little or no "system" to the universe--the reality, whatever that may be--that we find ourselves in. The funny thing is that I've been finding myself to be more and more sympathetic to this latter idea.
Hwat???
Lemme 'splain.
A little over a year ago a friend of mine gave me a book that shook me and my worldview up a little bit, called Wild at Heart, by John Eldredge. One quote in particular from that book that has stuck to me is simply this: "There are no formulas with God. Period." Now, perhaps I'm extending Eldredge's meaning further than it was intended; I'm not sure. But I've taken that quote and its meaning very much to heart in the past year, it seems. It used to be that I would feel guilty for doing something if the good in it wasn't clearly stamped out and obvious, or if I couldn't find clear meaning in it at all. Eighteen months ago I might not have allowed myself to, for example, listen to the music of Say Anything, because they cuss a lot and sing about sex, etc. etc. But now I do, and why?
Because I like it. I like their music.
Ulp. Sounds a little dangerous, perhaps. But if there are no formulas with God, is it possible that, for example, He is in fact leading me closer to Him via the rather visceral lyrics and spastic melodies of Say Anything, perhaps as sincere expressions of human experience?
Man, that sounds so gross and intellectual. Blah. But hopefully you know what I mean.
Here, essentially, is what I'm getting at: We know that God is present in the world; despite the panicked assertions of some, we could even say He permeates it. Yes, there is also a great deal of evil, but the goodness and power of God far outstrips it. Also, we know that someone who earnestly seeks Him will find Him--knock and the door will be opened. If we sincerely ask God that His will be accomplished in us, then it will be, in some way or another. We do our part by living by the basic moral precepts that He has outlined for us via Scripture and the Church, and He, in turn, will guide us according to the situations, feelings, opportunities and people that come in and out of our lives.
Therefore:
Beyond the aforementioned basic moral precepts, life is not a maze to be navigated, not a complex and unforgiving game with inscrutable rules. It's an adventure, constantly new terrain to be explored because there are no formulas.
Anarchy! Anything can happen! Gasp! Yes, I use the word "anarchy" pretty loosely here. Forgive me, it just looks so cool with an exclamation point next to it.
Aaaanywaaaay....perhaps the conclusion that I've just outlined actually is dangerous and wrongheaded--after all, it does cause me to empathize with the relativists somewhat, simply in that it gives me the impression that human experience is, in fact, much more individualized than I'd first thought. I'd welcome criticism from anyone who may care to offer it. In any case, it's something to think about.

Concerning oceans

2009-06-30T18:09:00.000-07:00

So I spent the last few days in Lincoln City, a medium-sized tourist trap on the Oregon Coast. Having gone there at least five times before in the past, I dunno, eight years, there is little here that is new to report. The place still has the seagulls, the brine, the kelp and crabshells and gross green streaks of foam that it has had for millenia. It also has the omnipresent nautical themes, cozy beach houses and surprisingly frumpy atmosphere that it has probably had for the past century. Assuming it's existed that long; I don't know.
It sounds like I speak disparagingly of it, as if I'm sick of the place. And, I'll be honest, the town has some kitschy-ness about it that doesn't entirely agree with me. Because I'm so cultured, doncha know...
But there's something undeniably special about the ocean. Even when I'm walking along the beach, freezing because of the absurd wind and trying not to yelp as the airborne sand flays my legs, I get a kick out of it. Well, "a kick" is perhaps not the right phrase. But it always seems to pull me into a sort of pleasantly contemplative state. The sand whipping my legs, for example: it occurred to me as I was getting exfoliated down there on the beach that this was eons and eons of geological matter flying past me, getting itself all over my clothes, into my shoes, my hair. Like the centuries were delivering me a personal beating. That's a bit of an honor, is it not?
Then of course there are the waves. And the way the sea and the sky melt together into a white haze on the horizon, like it really is the edge of the world. One can easily see where people got the idea of a flat earth.
Then there's the distinct pleasure of coming inside after getting beaten up by the sand and the wind and the surf and the chill, taking a shower, flopping onto the couch in a warm living room, cracking open a can of cream soda and waiting for assorted family members to wander in so we can all turn on a movie. That's when you look up at the bizarre ships-wheel light fixture and think to yourself, "life is good."

Oh man, how do I do this again?

2009-06-10T15:37:00.000-07:00

Assuming I still know how to write (and assuming I don't change my mind again and toss this blog in the trash like I originally planned), I would like to share some thoughts regarding...robots. I think. Yeah, robots. As in how often does a person typically end up feeling like one?
As in "emotional range of a teaspoon," to quote Hermione Granger....
Oh dang. I don't know how to write. Not like this, anyway. Perhaps a fictional approach:

Model 062390, Class A was not always Model 062390, Class A. Sometimes it was just Otto. Or, more appropriately, sometimes Otto was just Model 062390, Class A. Every once in a while his eyeballs would roll upward and he'd discover that good old Class A metal plating encasing his head, or he'd look down and it would be wrapped around his chest. And then there was the wretched insert. Sensors fed from the plating, a la acupuncture, into his spinal column where they gracefully wound upward to the insert. The insert would then interpret the input from the sensors accordingly.
Now don't misunderstand, the insert did not control Otto's brain, by any means. But it sure could raise a racket. Otto wasn't personally inclined to take its advice, but that inclination, practically speaking, meant very little when he wasn't able to tell if the voice he was hearing was it or Daddy. It was very adept at impersonating Daddy. Otto would have dearly liked to somehow reached into his own skull and yanked the thing out. But things don't work that way, obviously.
One of many tricks the insert had up its sleeve was convincing Otto that he was not, in fact, Otto but rather Model 062390, Type A. It could do this very efficiently by snaking a mechanical tendril into his chest and restricting the movement of his heart.
Otto knew the heart wasn't everything, by any means. That was one thing Daddy always reminded him of, and he knew (but didn't always feel) it to be true. But to feel the heart thump in his chest was very reassuring, and when that didn't happen (or at least happened in a stunted fashion) he, well, felt less like Otto and more like
Model 062390, Type A.

Hmmm...

2009-06-10T14:10:00.000-07:00

...so I look through the archives and I'm like, "Well, actually this looks pretty decent to me. Maybe I should keep it."
I'm so decisive. If I change my mind again, the new one would be the second blog I've created and deleted in as many days.
Phooey.

Moving on...

2009-06-10T13:51:00.000-07:00

Why, you may ask, would I change blogs when I have a perfectly functioning (albeit rather abandoned) one right here?
I...am not sure.
But I've gone and done it. So if you are at all interested, the new URL is weneverstopasking.blogspot.com.
All you faithful readers out there...;)

The theological significance of "Toy Story"

2008-09-20T22:44:00.000-07:00

Yeah, this is actually something I've been wanting to write about for a while. There's this one scene from Toy Story that I keep thinking about, a scene that I guess you could say gets at the crux of the movie's themes (all movies have themes, especially the ones for kids). Funny thing, this scene also, if perhaps unintentionally, gets at the crux of the theme of being a human. That, kids, is called anthropomorphizing. But more on that later...
Anyhoo, the scene I'm thinking of: Buzz and Woody are in a very sticky situation, waiting on the nasty green carpet in Sid's bedroom for Sid himself to come along and blow them sky high. Well, blow Buzz sky high. He's duct taped to a rocket and his little plastic arm has popped off, lying limp and useless a few feet away (sheesh, this all sounds so horrific out of context). Woody is stuck under a milk crate with a toolbox stacked on top of it, making futile attempts to escape. Finally, in frustration, he asks Buzz for help. Buzz responds:

"I can't help. I can't help anyone."
Woody: "Sure you can. You can help me get this box off, then we'll get out of here and make a break for Andy's house!" (or something to that effect)
Buzz: Andy's house, Sid's house. What's the difference?
Woody: Oh, Buzz, you must not be thinking clearly!
Buzz: No, Woody, for the first time I am thinking clearly. You were right all along; I'm just a toy. A stupid, puny, insignificant toy.
Woody: Whoa, hey, wait a minute. Being a toy is better than being a...a space ranger, pal.
Buzz: Yeah, right.
Woody: No, it is. Listen, when Andy plays with you do you think it's because you've discovered planets, made friends with aliens or defeated the evil emperor Zurg? No. It's because you're a toy; you are his toy!
Buzz: But why would Andy want me?
Woody: Why would Andy want you?! Look at you! You've got wings, you glow in the dark, you talk! Your helmet does that, that whoosh thing! You are a cool toy!...As a matter of fact you're too cool. I mean, all I can do is (pulls string in his back, we hear a recorded yelp: "Thar's a snake in mah boot!"). Why would Andy ever want to play with me, when he's got you?...I'm the one who should be strapped to that rocket.

Apparently Woody's words did have an effect on Buzz, because within minutes he's shoving the tool box off the milk crate and the two of them are off on their glorious escape. Anyway, now that I've paraphrased that whole scene...
The question being answered here is: what makes our existence worthwhile? What if we can't go to the moon, write the great American novel, become a high-powered executive? What if all we can do is spout cheesy lines?
That doesn't matter.
Guess who Andy represents in this picture? Right. Our worth lies not in our achievements or abilities, but in what we are. We are humans, made in the image and likeness of God, with great beauty and great potential thereby. Every. Single. One. Space rangers and cowboys alike. Of course, the realization that our ability and achievements are not the most important thing is a little hard for us to swallow. We, like Buzz, think that our value as "just us" is a poor replacement for all the other awesome things we thought we were doing. But when we do accept it...man, things are so much better. Think of the movie's opening scene, where Woody is riding across the "desert plains" and all sorts of yadda yadda yadda, and doing it from the guidance of Andy's hand. He's having the time of his life.
And so will we, when we realize (however slowly) that we alone cannot be all that hot stuff. When we realize that with God, however, we can go to infinity and beyond.
(what was that I said earlier about spouting cheesy lines...?)

The great thing about summer...

2008-07-29T10:35:00.000-07:00

...is that I have more time to watch movies!! Woot! And I've seen some pretty good 'uns in the past few days.

After hearing about it and wanting to see it for at least a year, I finally got around to watching Pan's Labyrinth (or El Labarinto del Fauno, not to be confused with El Labarinto de David Bowie). First of all, it was not what I expected. For a fantasy story, a disappointingly large amount of it took place in the very grim real world. It was in this real world that most of the "R" rating came in as well. But the parts of it that did take place in the fantasy world were like "Wow."

I think the common perception is that the fantasy world of Pan's Labyrinth is a dark and twisted one. The film's a twisted fairy tale, in other words, at least according to popular belief. But I disagree. It (or at least the part of it that's fantasy) is a straight-up fairy tale.
I think many people know by now that the versions of fairy tales we grew up with are not the same fairy tales that originated hundreds or even thousands of years ago. Our fairy tales, while perhaps a little scary, always have happy endings (no thanks to Disney. Scoff, scoff). Hansel and Gretel escape, the Little Mermaid finds her prince, etc. All without too much bloodshed or real disturbance. The original versions, however, were much darker. The witch does, in fact, eat children. The Little Mermaid despairs and commits suicide. I'm pulling these details out of memory, so they may be sketchy, but it's definitely true that older fairy tales weren't populated purely by fairies and damsels and the occasional-but-not-too-unusual-dragon.

One of the scariest, most "twisted" parts of the fairy world in Pan's Labyrinth is a monster referred to as "the Pale Man." (spoiler ahead, be warned): He looks like an extremely old, decrepit man. His mouth is shriveled up, his skin is flabby and his limbs are stick-like and frail. He has no eyes, and his nose consists of two large holes in the dead center of his head. Wait, he does have eyes, but they sit on a plate next to him while he sleeps, and when something awakes him he places them in two holes in his hands so he can see. Oh, yeah, and he kills and eats children.

Right, so what's your point, James?

The Pale Man is probably the most twisted part of this "twisted" fairy tale. But I think he actually doesn't make the fairy tale twisted at all. I think a creature as weird and frightening as him would actually be very well placed in the older versions of fairy tales, which often featured young, innocent protagonists going up against mysterious, disturbing evils as the young heroine Ofelia does in Pan's Labyrinth. These older fairy tales have a sort of unsettling wonder about them, wonder that comes from seeing the strange things that hide in a world totally unlike and yet at the same time similar to our own. Pan's Labyrinth, I think, is full of that sort of wonder.

But if that's not a twisted fairy tale, what is? Just a thought: perhaps a fairy tale becomes "twisted" when the world it takes place in ceases to be filled with that simple wonder and simple fear so characteristic of children. A prime example of this would be Gregory Maguire's Wicked. As most readers probably know, in his story Maguire takes the familiar if fantastical world of Oz and turns it on his head. But he does more than that. He "adult-ifies" it. And, perhaps, adulterates it as well.

L. Frank Baum's Oz, like many fairy lands, is populated with all sorts of wondrous and terrifying things, but he never attempts to explain them. They remain as they would be to the eyes of a child; they just are. The Emerald City is just made of emeralds, never mind how. The flying monkeys just have wings, who cares if they're some freakish genetic accident or not? Or, to return to Pan's Labyrinth, the Pale Man just keeps his eyes in his hands. Who knows or really cares why? What's really important is that he's going to eat me!

Maguire's Oz, as I said, is adult-ified. We have to know why the Witch is wicked, why the Wizard does what he does, why Glenda does what she does, why the monkeys have wings, yada yada yada...And in attempting to explain all this, Maguire turns Oz from what it was--a world full of simple awe and simple fear, like that of a child--to something entirely different: a grown-up's world, full of complex explanations entailing political intrigue, flawed ideologies, sexual deviancies, and of course plenty of violence.

Pan's Labyrinth illustrates this dichotomy beautifully. We see both worlds in it: the fantasy world, populated with the likes of giant toads, fairies, hideous monsters and mysterious (and very weird-looking) fauns. A colorful world, filled with both beauty and terror, a world as one would imagine children see the world. Basically it's a child's world, but not necessarily a child-friendly world (the likes of the Pale Man are not what one would call "child-friendly"). Then we see the grown-ups' world: it's noticeably (and literally) darker and colder. It's confusing, fearful, and extremely violent. It's at war, but not a simple fairy-tale war between good and evil. It's a real war, the Spanish civil war of the 1940s, in fact. It's between clashing ideologies, and it's full of hiding, lying, spying, torture, murder, all of which directly involve grown-ups but don't pose an immediate threat to Ofelia (at least not until the wall between the two worlds starts to crumble).

But guess which world she prefers?

I'm scared

2008-06-22T14:00:00.000-07:00

Item the first: I'm playing football. For various reasons, I decided to join Prep's football team back in April-ish, and with spring training now officially over I've had a good-sized dose of high school athletics. And I don't know if I like it. First of all, coming in totally green as an incoming senior is very humbling--I know less of what's going on than most of last year's freshmen.
Secondly, as in most schools, football at Prep takes itself very seriously. It has already sucked up a lot of time and, come August, it's going to demand more. Much more.

This is where it gets scary. Come August, I will be a senior. I will have college applications to worry about; essays and paperwork up to my earlobes. Additionally, a big service project will be expected to be completed within the first semester. And, of course, homework; who knows how much. Tack on two hours of practice every afternoon, during which Coach will apparently condition our butts off (did I mention that football is serious business?). Uuum....yeah.

Here's the thing: I don't absolutely love playing football, at least not yet. In fact, sometimes I despise it. Sometimes it's not so bad, most notably the times when my dad is helping me with stuff and I don't feel like quite such a clueless loser (disclaimer, by the way: My teammates have actually been really gracious and helpful to me; my feelings about the sport aren't their fault). But I'm not at all sure that I have what it takes, to juggle serious athletic commitments with serious academic commitments. And I'm not sure I want to have what it takes; I'm not sure fighting that battle would be worth it.

I know some people do it. I know some people juggle an outrageous amount of stuff in high school. But I was never that type. And since this upcoming year is a rather pivotal one, I don't want to mess it up.

But then again: if I don't stick with the football team, I may miss out on some golden opportunities. For an artsy nerd like me to play football--and stick with it--would definitely be an experience. And I'd get a lot of physical discipline out of it, and maybe even a little athleticism that will last throughout my life. Finally, our team has a serious shot at going to state this year, and being a part of that would be quite a rush.

I dunno. Such are the woes and tribulations of a middle-class high-schooler. But I am honestly worried about this; I'm afraid I've bitten off more than I can chew and I'm starting to gag. Of course, with my personality I could definitely be making a mountain out of a mole hill. But I don't think I am, at least not much. In any event, if anyone reads this, I could use a few prayers. Nothing fancy, nothing intensive--I'm not getting chemo, I don't need Masses offered or anything. But maybe just a:

"Dear God, help James out. He's pretty confoozled. And if he needs to, help him to bite the bullet and get through fall in one piece. Amen."

Thanks, guys.

Wowzer

2008-05-25T17:08:00.000-07:00

So, I'm not sure how many of you have heard of Cha cha, but it's pretty crazy. I discovered it yesterday with some friends and, yeah, it's pretty nuts. I can't tell if it's either really cool or really scary.
See for yourself.

They beat me to it!

2008-04-06T11:03:00.001-07:00

If anyone still reading this recalls my blogging from several years ago, I used to be singularly obsessed with Myst. If I had the time, I probably still would be; I've had a hankering to revisit Riven for some time now...sigh.
My dream job, I think, would be a film director, but that's not exactly the most profitable or practical dream. But if I were to reach such celestial heights, I would have loooved to have made movies out of the Myst novels, or at least some Myst movie. Rather like Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter (which, incidentally, I also have semi-dormant obsessions with), the Myst franchise has a whole mythology built around it out of which one could make a totally awesoooome movie. My dream, right there.
But these fiends beat me to it. I can't help but fear that their noble enterprise will come to naught...but oh man, I hope it works!

Hey! He's not dead!

2008-02-24T16:12:00.000-08:00

Considering that I have about three years' worth of archives sitting off to the side there, and because I kinda feel like it, I may be relocating this blog sometime in the future. But that's not the point...
I want to talk about fear. It occurred to me a few days ago that fear is perhaps one of the biggest obstacles to holiness, love, being a good person, good karma, whatever you want to call it. Take the "three question quiz" to start us off here:
1): What is the most common phrase in the Old Testament?
2): What is the most common phrase in the New Testament?
3): Collectively, how many instances are there of these two phrases throughout Scripture?
The answers are, respectively: 1): Do not be afraid, 2): Be not afraid, 3): Just over 1,000 times. I may have the answers to #1 and #2 switched around, but you get the drift. The general idea is that God does not want us to be afraid. But very often, when it comes to life in general, we're afraid of something; messing up, becoming a bad person, pushing ourselves, losing respect, losing familiar things, pain, etc. The interesting thing about fear is that it's very much self-centered. The entire evolutionary purpose of fear is self-preservation. Self-preservation. Because of this, I would hazard a guess that fear is the opposite of love, which is centered outward (centered outward...hmmm...that doesn't really make sense. Let's try "focused outward.").
If fear is the opposite of love then it makes sense that if we want to learn to love (and Jesus thinks we should), we must first let go of fear. If we indulge fear, we will become focused on ourselves and what we are afraid of, and the resultant selfishness will move us backward in a very bad direction.
As Yoda so sagely puts it: "Fear is the path to the Dark Side. Fear leads to sadness, sadness leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate...leads to suffering."
I've been having a lot of experience with fear lately. I'm fairly certain that I "suffer" from this weird "condition" known as scrupulosity. If you don't know what this is, it's basically the obsessing idea that one has seriously sinned and, as a result, is cut off from God. It's kind of scary; I'll be going over and over "X" event in my head, trying to scrutinize my motives for acting and the action itself, trying to determine if I've committed a mortal sin, and often I get so wrapped up in this "weighing of atoms" (as one author put it) that I get seriously confused and scared. Thanks to the guidance of a priest, this whole situation has gotten considerably better, but it still nags at me and, I think, manifests itself in other ways than just worrying about sin (instead, for example, I just worry too much about doing the right thing in general. Such fun).
I've gleaned from reading and the advice of others that this condition feeds off of a lack of trust, first of all in God's love and mercy but also in the counsel of others. It may also have to do with pride; scrupulous people tend to set up unrealistic expectations for themselves, and when they don't meet those expectations, they freak out.
Basically, it stems from an inability to be at peace with your own imperfection; a failure to recognize the fact that you yourself are a very weak creature, and if it weren't for God's abundant grace and mercy, you would be a total train wreck. This may not sound like a happy thing to contemplate, but I've been thinking it over and it's actually a relief. The gradual decision to put your spiritual well-being into God's hands (very, very capable hands, I might add) is very freeing. Does this mean that you stop trying to be a good person and just "leave it up to God?" Well, no. You have to mess with it a bit, trial-and-error your way into finding that peaceful middle ground between trying too much and not trying enough. At least, that's the impression I get.
Ultimately, I think this is just something very much worth remembering, whether we're intimidated by sin, or by working to change ourselves, or by giving up those things that drag us down. Be not afraid. Because, in the end, you have the biggest and best good guy on your side.

The attic

2007-12-26T21:12:00.000-08:00

First post in forever and a half. Honestly, I don't know why I haven't updated in so long. Honestly, I don't have much to say right now. Uuuummm....
Have I mentioned that syncing an Ipod is enormously tedious? Yesh. I mean, it reaaaalllly gets to you. I feel kind of shell-shocked right now, like I've been spending the last hour and a half on something that isn't really worth the time. Uugh. I know I've had this exact same rant before, but y'know....

Oh, I recently discovered the best 5 seconds of video goodness on the Internet. If you haven't seen this already, check out the "Dramatic Chipmunk" video on YouTube. Best 5 seconds you'll ever have; my dad nearly died. Of course, he had just watched a video of a hamster getting flipped 12 times in its own wheel (yes, the critter was fine, and yes, he did it to himself), so I guess that put him in the mood for rodent-related humor.

I am sorry, but I don't think I have much writing juice in me right now. That's all, folks

This is valuable information

2007-08-20T11:38:00.000-07:00

You Are a Turkey Sandwich

Conservative and a bit shy, you tend to stick with what you know and trust.
You are very introverted, and you prefer to blend in whenever possible.
Though you may be hard to know well, anyone who does know you considers you a true friend.

Your best friend: The Ham Sandwich

Your mortal enemy: The Tuna Fish Sandwich

What Kind of Sandwich Are You?

Now I just want to know what it is about a tuna sandwich that makes it my mortal enemy, and, more importantly:
WHO HERE IS A TUNA FISH SANDWICH?

Harry Potter and the Fans' Lament

2007-08-05T20:51:00.000-07:00

When I was about 9 years old, I spent several days--perhaps a week--out of school because of some bad bug I had caught. Out of sympathy for ill-stricken little me, my grandma sent me a gift in the mail; it was a book that she said was turning out to be pretty popular, and she thought I might like it. The book was Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. I remember opening it up and leafing through it, seeing the odd, pastel-esque illustrations that accompanied each chapter and thinking to myself, "Weird." Then I began to read.

Thus I was introduced to the world of Harry Potter. Or at least I think that's how it happened.

Anyhoo, Grandma must have heard that I liked the book, because I also received The Chamber of Secrets and The Prisoner of Azkaban in fairly short order. Over the course of the years, I somehow wound up in possession of all of the books, and a few days ago I finished reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

I think Harry Potter has had an effect on me similar to the effect many T.V. shows have on people. I've been engrossed in the plot and become attached to the characters, and now that it's over I feel disappointed. In many ways, I've grown up with Harry ( but this is the first time that he hasn't been older than me. Ha!).

Waitasec, I think I just figured something out....I've pondering for a while what it is that has made Harry Potter so explosively popular; what it is that has made its fans loudly clamor for more after each book came out, what made them line up in sizzling summer heat 12 hours before it was released, consume an entire book in another 12 hours (Fools! They don't know how to savor) and hail it as the literary event of the 21st century. I think I just wrote myself the answer in the above paragraph:

Thanks to lightning-bolt luck that made her first book so popular, and a pre-formed plan to make the series long but not eternal, J.K. Rowling pretty much ensured herself an audience that would become attached to her story and gobble it up as it became more intricate, rich and detailed (which she had plenty of time to do in seven books) but would also be aware that it was finite and therefore would dedicate themselves to it like it were the last season of Friends.
Ha! Fiendish!

Anyhoo, now that I've figured that out...I've been trying to view Harry Potter through objective eyes, considering the fact that so many people either love it ("modern epic!!!") or hate it ("Devil's instrument!!!"), with many shades also residing between those extreme examples.

It should be clear that I don't view the books as Satan's tool. Indeed, sometimes I wonder why the series has been so vilified and attacked. There are much worse things out there that society's critics should be concentrating their fire upon. Harry's popularity is probably the only real reason he created such a kerfuffle. Well, obviously; no one would have noticed him otherwise.

Anyhoo, if you think about it, the books contain lots of imagery and (perhaps?) symbolism that is very positive and even Christian. For example, the idea that sacrificial love (like that of Harry's mother) is a power that evil can never comprehend and thus never defeat. Another example is that Voldemort, by committing various despicable crimes and murders, literally tears his soul to pieces, mauling it beyond recognition. I think there's some very Catholic imagery there; heinous offenses, which Catholics know as mortal sins, inflict damage to the soul that only true repentance (which is not one of Voldemort's outstanding qualities) can repair.

However, I don't call the books perfect, either. Rowling is pretty inconsistent at times in her portrayal of good and evil. Here's one notable example of this:
Harry has a definite angry, angst-y streak, which is understandable if Rowling is trying to create a realistic adolescent boy. But when Harry's anger transforms into vengeance--and, most importantly, he never indicates remorse for seeking that vengeance--his role as "good guy" begins to get a bit fuzzy. This happens in the book when Harry, overcome with grief upon seeing loved ones killed, attempts to avenge them by using an Unforgivable Curse, that is, a curse so strong and presumably evil that its use warrants life imprisonment. Harry attempts these curses on at least two occasions, but neither remorse nor consequences for their use ever come his way. Not very good for a good guy.

I myself have concluded that, overall, the bad things that are present in Harry Potter are not worth the near-panic they've incited from some people. I would say, however, that in reading the books one should have a definite grasp of what right and wrong really are, and one should also bear in mind that Rowling neither is nor is intending to be (I hope) a philosopher or a theologian; as a result some of the moral/spiritual themes in the books can be a bit wonky.

In other words, I think Harry Potter is like a whole bunch of other books/movies/music etc. It has things about it that are great and things that are not so great. Both should be recognized.

Slightly skeery

2007-07-29T13:55:00.000-07:00

In today's paper's opinion section I noticed that one of the cover articles was by a man who goes to our church. My curiosity was piqued and I started reading. Basically, the article was a summary of twenty-five years of action for and against the continued production of nuclear weapons; specifically, it was about the twenty-five year history of a local anti-bomb group called World Citizens for Peace.
I've always had kind of mixed feelings about nukes; on the one hand, they're a valuable asset when it comes to bluffing your way out of a war. On the other hand, they can wipe out civilization as we know it. Hmmmm...overall, I think I'm inclined against their use, but I'm not terribly educated in the matter.
In any case, I learned some, well, scary stuff from this article that I wasn't aware of before. For one thing, I didn't know that the Bulletin of Atomic Scientists has moved the Doomsday Clock from seven minutes to midnight to five minutes to midnight. Creepy.
Granted, I'm assuming all those fine people on the Bulletin aren't endowed with clairvoyant powers, but between this and the few other instances I've heard about them and the Clock, I've gotten the impression that they're fairly reliable sources on the subject of nuclear science.
Some other food for thought could be found in a paragraph in the article:

Today, there are still more than 25,000 nuclear warheads in existence--12,000 of them are deployed and 3,500 are on hair-trigger alert, ready to be launched in a matter of minutes. Today's thermonuclear weapons (hydrogen bombs) make the Hiroshima and Nagasaki atomic bombs seem puny. It takes only one to destroy a city. And 1 percent of the world's nuclear arsenals could destroy human civilization itself.

Unfortunately, I couldn't find the article online to give a link to it, but perhaps you could sniff around on the Tri-City Herald's website if you want; search for an article by Jim Stoffels in the July 29, 2007 paper.
In other words, today's paper. Har har....who'da thunk?
Thoughts, anyone?

Ladies and Genteelmen...

2007-07-24T22:21:00.000-07:00

...at long last, I, James Powers, have successfully made a (short) movie, with the help of two of my brothers, my mom, the cat, and Herb Alpert's Tijuana Brass band.
And so, without further ado, behold:

Yaaaaay!

Oh, and the song is called "Lollipops and Roses," if you were wondering.

Curse you, Apple!

2007-07-02T17:50:00.000-07:00

So here I am, sitting at the computer, loading music onto what is now my iPod (yeaaah!!). Unfortunately, this is a very time-consuming process, and I feel like a time-squandering sloth. I mean, is it really worth it to blow forty-five minutes on preparing entertainment for myself? And no, that is not the same as going to a movie. When you go to a movie, you are devoting time to your own valuable (hopefully) recreation, but here I'm just...frittering.
This is frittering that will prove to be worth it, though. It sure better, or else Steve Jobs will soon find himself facing a ball of high-pitched, adolescent fury.
* * * *
Hrrmph. As long as I'm doing this, I'll write an actual post.
So, I spent about 6 days out of last week at Christ the Redeemer Leadership Camp over in Mt. Angel, Oregon. I've gone to this camp every year for four years now, and I've always had a love-hate relationship with it.
Love: Something about it--especially in the first two years--had some intangible good effect upon me. Also, it's full of people who take the faith seriously but aren't puritanical about it. We have daily Mass, spiritual counseling and all sorts of other good stuff like that.
Hate: I'm spending a week in largely unfamiliar circumstances; I'm out of my zone, homesick, etc. This is largely caused by the fact that I've never been the camping type; I prefer to admire nature from a distance. Also, this camp is big on competition, particularly sports. And sports are not my thang.
Anyhoo, this year was especially challenging for me. I was a team captain, and usually the captain is subordinate to a team counselor, who largely leads the team. That wasn't really the case this year, though. The counselors this year would "adopt" a team and help them out--but not directly lead them. Much of the actual leading was my responsibility. Gulp.
Remember what I said about lots of competition? Right. Well, for much of the camp, our team, "the Bravehearts," were in last place. Last place out of four teams, granted, but leave it to me to make a mountain out of a molehill. Also leave it to me to make horrific, accidental alliterations.
Anyhoo, that was giving me an ulcer for quite some time. But I learned some valuable lessons from that experience as captain.
First of all, it was very humbling. Being somewhere outside "my zone" showed me that I'm not necessarily the skilled, able-to-handle-anything type of person I sometimes perceive myself as. Oops.
And I got to see how well I can hold up outside the familiarity of home, without people like my parents to lean on.
Finally, I got practice on quieting my brain; a valuable skill. Whether through personality or acquired habit, I tend to analyze things, worry about the future, second-guess myself, etc. Somehow, I figured out that during this camp I'd have to get the gray matter to shut up; I was just to busy to be thinking all the time.
Overall, the camp was really a good experience. I mean, I was expecting it to be good, but I wasn't really expecting to be profoundly affected by it. At 17, I'm definitely on the old side of the age limit, and I went to the camp figuring that I'd give it one last spin before saying goodbye to it. No biggie, you know?
Obviously, I got more than I bargained for. A pleasant surprise.

Gregor Samsa gets religion!

2007-06-10T12:14:00.000-07:00

About a month before school got out (give or take a week) we were reading Gregor Samsa's The Metamorphosis in Literature class. At one point, I and various members of my family were having one of those random discussions about Catholicism, and I made an interesting connection in my brain between Kafka and the Church, or, more accurately, a connection between the bug-man Gregor Samsa and the Church.

As many of you may or may not know, The Metamorphosis is about a man named Gregor Samsa who puts up with the unpleasant job of traveling salesman, supposedly to help his rather ungrateful family pay off debts. His existence is rather humdrum. One day, he wakes up as a bug. Freaky. Anyway, as the days, then weeks, then months pass, he becomes more and more a bug, less and less a human and more and more distanced from his family. He loses his identity to his "bug-dom."

And, as many of you may or may not know, about forty years ago a council of the Roman Catholic Church called Vatican II convened and put into effect several reforms in the Church. For example, it was decided that Mass could now be said in the native language of a country; it did not necessarily have to be Latin. Vatican II was largely intended to make Catholicism more accesible to people; more easily understood and practiced. In many ways, this has helped the Church a lot.

But it has also had detrimental effects. As many people will tell you, the sugar-coated, watered-down, let's-hold-hands-and-sing-Kumbayah version of Catholicism is becoming more common, as are ignorant Catholics, who don't appreciate or know their faith because their true faith has not been shown to them.

For example, liturgical music is now full of songs that make people happy rather than turn their minds and hearts to God. Yes, Christianity is a joyful religion, and happiness is good, particularly in, say, a recessional or entrance hymn. But when that "happiness" is manufactured at the expense of awareness of God (and really isn't happy so much as fluffy), you have a problem.

Another example: Christian artwork, such as that featured on the covers of hymnbooks, is often found going for an African-spiritual sort of motif that doesn't even look African, like so:

No, this is not racism. I've no problem with real African artwork; what bugs me is when it's faked for a non-artistic purpose, namely, the purpose of making the Church appear racially diverse and ethnically tolerant. And again, I've no problem with racial tolerance, but we should not make advertising it a priority.

Third example, in gleaming, perfect 5-paragraph essay format: Architecture. I know there have been beefs about this before. We have all, I'm sure, seen those churches that look less like a church than a mothership. Or, as a more recent example, churches that look like some sort of corporate headquarters. In these cases, the purpose of of the church seems to be to make a statement; to look modern and hip. What it is not trying to do is turn anyone's faces upwards. When you walk into a space-age church, you are less likely to feel God's presence than you are to think "So this is what a geodesic dome looks like from the inside. Fascinating, isn't it, Jeeves?" In the effort to cultivate a sophisticated, modern image, these churches are losing their beauty. I know beauty is relative, but how many people are truly moved by looking at a geodesic dome? Or a coporate headquarters?

Here are some examples of what I'm talking about.

So, where's my point? What the heck does Kafka have to do with anything?
It occured to me a while ago that The Metamorphosis could serve as a metaphor for these things I've been describing, though it certainly wasn't intended as such.

Gregor Samsa, thinking he's doing his family a favor, reluctantly slogs through an unpleasant job as a traveling salesman. In doing so, however, he gets lost (literally) in his boredom and frustration with life. He loses his identity and his humanity, and turns into a bug.
Similarly, various factions of the Church have been attempting to make themselves more accesible, more attuned to the culture, more hip, etc. They hide those aspects of Catholicism that they think people won't like, or will get bored with. But as a result of making themselves more accesible they are losing their identity; the identity of Catholicism. They are losing the inherent mystery, beauty, and counter-cultural persistence that make the Church the Church.

How do we fix this? Keep in mind the true ideal of the Church. It is an ideal contained in the Apostle's Creed, the Catechism and, above all, the words of Jesus. It's reverence coupled with joy; not joy compromisng reverence or vice-versa. It's beauty coupled with simplicity. It's an ability to identify with people, not to be more accesible to them. The truth will set you free, especially that of religion, which must never ever be hidden in an attempt to make it more attractive.

But what about those people for whom such great measures have been taken to make the Church more attractive? We have to bring things "down" to "their level", how else will they possibly be saved (notice the built-in derision of that statement)? It's pretty simple, really: They're big boys and girls. The Church doesn't have to "come down" to them. They can rise up to the Church.

Basically, all us Catholics should just follow the advice of all those wise mentor figures in all those Disney movies:
"Just be yourself."

A Post of Substance...substance that isn't mine, that is

2007-06-02T23:11:00.000-07:00

Perusing Youtube, I came across this video of the song Summer Skin by Death Cab for Cutie. The video subject matter and the song subject matter don't exactly correlate, but it's cool anyhoo:

So we've been reading Kafka in Literature class

2007-05-20T17:06:00.000-07:00

...and I was going to type a big long post about what I thought about it, but...well, I've been writing all day, and I don't want to any more. Hah!
So I made this instead, a graphic interpretation of The Metamorphosis:

Good Friday

2007-04-06T13:42:00.000-07:00

and Simeon blessed them and said to Mary, his mother, "Behold, this child is destined for the

fall and rise of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be contradicted (and you yourself a

sword will pierce)

so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed...

-Luke 2:34-35

On uncertainty

2007-03-29T21:27:00.000-07:00

Just to warn y'all ahead of time, this post may or may not seem rather...out of character for me. Anyhoo...
Yesterday, we had a really confusing Chemistry class. We were studying measurements, and in so doing I was introduced to a concept that had never really occured to me. You can't be certain of anything. For example, the lead in my friend's mechanical pencil is 0.7 mm. thick (the writing on the side of the pencil says so. Ooooh....). But the thing is, that measurement is only as good as the instrument making it. In truth, that pencil lead is not 0.7 mm. thick...that was only the best guess BIC could make with the instruments at their disposal. In truth, that lead may be 0.74267783501200 (and on and on and on in infinitely smaller degrees of precision) mm. thick. It's like those stupid graphs we made in algebra last year for exponential functions. They get smaller and smaller and smaller, but can never reach the exact number zero.

If you really squint at that lurvely little graph, you will see that the little amber line never totally mushes into the black one to achhieve zero-ocity. It just gets closer and closer to zero, but never actually reaches it.
So, in other words, no measurement is reliable. None. All measurements stretch on into infinity.
Where am I going with this?
Is it not really really really weird that numbers, the things that make up mathematics, are in fact completely uncertain? Mathematical rules and formulas are supposed to be eternal, concrete and reliable, to both atheist and believer. But in fact, the numbers and values that we plug into these formulas are completely unreliable; they are so wishy-washy that they can never get up the guts to just be finite and have a DEFINITE end, a DEFINITE value.
How cosmically ironic.
Once again, James, what's your point, other than being really confusing?
Well, I mostly just went on this tirade because I thought it was a cool little revelation; I'm not actually disturbed by this. But it does remind me of myself, lately, and of a question I've been mulling over.
See, I've been getting this strong sense of relativism lately. I keep hearing about how there is one, objective, ultimate truth contained (as much as possible) in Catholicism that applies to all circumstances and that there are laws that must never be broken (this is not to portray the Church as tyrannical; this is just what I have heard/been taught). But experience--partly nurtured by the Church--suggests otherwise. It seems to me that there aren't only solid laws or truths; that the universe is not black and white and grey areas abound. Apart from the two laws of love set down by Jesus, it seems that all (or at least most) laws are suspendible. For example, we are forbidden from taking other human life...unless it's in self-defense, or for the good of a larger community, or what have you. See the inconsistency here?
Now, let me dispel all doubts here: I am not on the verge of tossing my Bible out the window and converting to Buddhism. I've been Catholic all my life and I plan to stay that way. Somehow, I know that this big, apparent contradiction I see within the Church can't be true. I just don't understand how.
In other words, feel free to poke holes in the logic I've presented in this post. That's what I need. Perhaps this doubt is just a test of faith.
I dunno.

On changing opinions

2007-03-07T18:06:00.000-08:00

So, last Saturday, our class hosted the school's Sadie Hawkins dance. We made a fairly nice profit off of it, but unfortunately, this may be a dance that will live in infamy. Due to inadequate, um, law-enforcement, the dance became something of a grind-fest. I might make some observations about the psychology behind such a phenomenon, but for now I have a particular point I want to make.
Teachers at school received numerous reports about the dirty dancing, and by Tuesday the repercussions were in order. Between 3rd and 4th period we all go into the gym for prayer, pledge of alliegance and announcements. The big announcement that day consisted of, naturally, a stern finger-shaking from the principal, but after that our principal made a pretty simple announcement. He basically said that all students who had not been directly involved in the "freaking" could leave for the 5-minute break before the next class, but those who had been involved? Well, they would have to remain in the gym. What is truly incredible is that our principal didn't have a laundry list of guilty faces he was demanding stay in that gym; he left it up to people's individual consciences as to whether they should stay or go. Naturally, pretty much everyone promptly left, but a few people stayed...And, ironically, my opinion of those people who remained (one in particular) has gone up about 150%.
What? But weren't these the very people who turned that dance into a semi-orgy? How can you possibly admire them?
Very simple, my friends. See, unlike many of the people who left that gym, those remaining had the maturity and guts to acknowledge their mistake and face its consequences, especially when one of those consequences consisted of an open advertisement of their guilt; it's not easy to conceal from your peers the fact that you're staying on those bleachers while they're going. Basically, they showed immense courage, dignity and honesty by staying put, and I can only hope that I could show similar fortitude in a situation like that.

I dunno

2007-02-25T11:30:00.000-08:00

I realize I haven't posted since whatever, but you know...whatever. Maybe a stream of consciousness is in order....
Or maybe not. Words words words...have you ever heard. everybody knows you pay for what you get...#34...What happens under the gray sky?....10,000 years and we still have sharp things that poke at our balloons (to quote my sister)....Blood on your hands is either love or hate. Be still and know...be still and know, be still and know...that Godisnowhere. God is nowhere? No, God is Now Here.
I'm keeping people off of the old compy. That's okay, though. One of these days I may post some poetry, but I have a rather small amount of it at my disposal.
Sorrow drips into your heart through a pinhole, just like a faucet that leaks, and there is comfort in the sound. But while you debate half empty or half full, it slowly rises...your love is gonna drown.--DCFC
I'm sorry for the necessity, but I can't have this now.

Since when was Lent a time for sorrow? Let's grow ourselves and become something.

Sorry that this post was so random. Don't read too much into any of it. It was just me grabbing random stuff out of my brain and going SPLAT with it. Rather fun.

Okay okay okay...

2007-02-04T10:52:00.000-08:00

So, certain people keep griping (jerks) because I haven't posted anything deep lately. In fact, I haven't posted anything lately. Anyhoo, you want something deep?

There's something deep. Hah!
See a few more purty pictures like this here.
Aaaand....yeah. I sincerely apologize that my brain is not producing anything of substance.

More fun with Paint

2007-01-07T17:55:00.000-08:00

I would like to show off some more examples of why I think Paint is uber-groovy, despite it's simplicity:

Heeheehee. I don't even know if the "Local 3319" part makes any sense, but that's the sort of thing you see on shirts for clubs and stuff.

Someday, I'll adopt Anon Y. Mouse as my new alias, and that will be my logo.

This one looks awesome (in my huuumble opinion) but was super-duper easy to make.

'Cha, I know, you all think I'm a genius. Admit it.

Attention...

2006-12-30T23:58:00.000-08:00

...to all ambulatory humanoids living in the vicinity of Eastern Washington. There will be a funeral service for my grandpa at 10:00 A.M. on January 6 at Christ the King church in Richland. If any of you readers living in this general area are able, it would be wonderful if you could come, as Grandpa didn't know many people over here.
Muchas gracias.

Leather

2006-12-24T14:05:00.000-08:00

12 days ago, my grandpa, Leroy Powers, died unexpectedly from lung cancer. And, of course, as soon as my fingers are coming in contact with the keyboard I have no idea what to say. So this will probably be a rather random assortment of thoughts and musings on my part.
It's odd how little I was affected by his death. I have yet to be totally devestated upon receiving news of a death. Maybe this means I have the emotional range of a cockroach, but I think, rather, it simply means that I've been preserved from having to cope with the pain and death of someone really close to me. See, my grandpa just wasn't that close to me, or really to any of us kids...or so I thought. Therein, I think, lies the real tragedy.
A couple of days after we received news of Grandpa's death, my dad and my Uncle Jay went up to Billings, Montana, to clear out his apartment. What they brought back was somewhat startling.
Before I describe more, you should understand the sort of person we knew Grandpa to be. He was very tall, with a somewhat gravelly voice, always drank black coffee and had big silver belt buckles, as well as a somewhat cantankerous personality and, so I've heard, a rather biting sense of humor. When we were little, he scared the daylights out of us by threatening to make our pet rabbits into a stew. "Yeeep," he'd say "I could suuuuure go for some rabbit stew. Doesn't that sound good, guys?" And we'd stare, bug-eyed, back at him. Of course, he never did eat those rabbits. They continued to be cute, fuzzy, and very good at multipying. But that's another story.
Anyway, we saw our grandpa as a gruff, sometimes scary but never mean sort of guy. So when Dad came back from Montana with boxes and boxes of Grandpa's stuff, we--or at least I--were/was somewhat surprised at what we found. Apparently, Grandpa was a leather maniac. He would take countless pieces of woodwork and cover them in ornate pieces of leatherwork that he got from I-don't-know-where. Grandpa was an artist, in his own way. Strike one for previous opinions of him.

One of the more ornate works. If it were up to me, I'd call it Transportation Suspension No. 1

Strike two involves what was featured in most of that leatherwork. Most, if not all, of his pieces had either pictures of us kids or our names--in big, metal letters--worked into them. Most notable of these was a massive cedar chest that was absolutely covered in all patterns and colors of leather, with my name and those of my siblings peppered across it. Grandpa was sentimental, in his own way. Strike two.

An unfinished work involving, I think, my little brother Michael.

Me being who I am, these discoveries didn't shock and astound me, to be honest. But they did get me to think. I realized how tragic it is that all this time, this man whom I called Grandpa was just as human as everyone else, but I never got the time to really know that. I could have; we were making plans to bring him over here to the Tri-Cities, to a hospice house or perhaps our own house. But the rug was pulled out from underneath those plans due to Grandpa's unexpected death. And, once again, divine mercy spared me--I can only assume for the better--from having to witness the death of a loved one firsthand, and from becoming attached to that person before he was taken. I had been bracing myself mentally for that experience, and then it turned out not to matter.
I don't know why Grandpa went the way he did, but I take some consolation from the fact that it was the way he was meant to go. It's also somewhat reassuring that he died on the feastday of Our Lady of Guadalupe. In the end, all we can do--and should do--is pray and remember. Which is what I intend to do. And if all of you who read this post will pray for him too, well, it can only help.

Requiescat in Pace:
Leroy Kelsey Powers
June 13, 1936--December 12, 2006

Grandpa and Dad, waay back when. Wasn't my dad cute as a kid?

Grandpa and sister. Once again, the cute level is high.

I love you, mi abuelo. If I had to choose one word to describe you, it would be leather. Stiff on one side, soft on the other. And very cowboy-ish.

Bono, Dave Matthews and "militant pacifism"

2006-11-26T15:30:00.000-08:00

What??
For one thing, "militant pacifism" isn't quite the right term. Or more specifically "pacifism" isn't the right word. But you've got to admit, it sounds really cool and paradoxical. Anyhoo...
I'm referring to two songs I've been thinking about lately. Both of which are songs I've liked for a while, but only recently have I really thought about the lyrics, and now I have a whole new appreciation for these songs (don't you love it when that happens?).
The first of which is "I Did It" by Dave Matthews Band:

I'm mixing up a bunch of magic stuff
A magic mushroom cloud of care
A potion that will rock the boat will rock
Make a bomb of love and blow it up

I did it
Do you think I've gone too far
I did it
Guilty as charged
I did it
It was me right or wrong
I did it
Yeah

I never did a single thing that did a single thing to
Change the ugly ways of the world
I didn't know it felt so right inside
I didn't know it at all
Open up the curtains I heard sirens there the lights flash and crawl
I did it justice I just did it for the buzz

It's a nickel or a dime for what I've done
The truth is that I don't really care
For such a lovely crime I'll do the time
You better lock me up I'll do it again

I did it
Do you think I've gone too far
I did it
Guilty as charged
I did it
It was me right or wrong
I did it
Yeah

I never did a single thing that did a single thing to
Change the ugly ways of the world
I didn't know it felt so right inside
I didn't know it at all
Open up the curtains I heard sirens there the lights flash and crawl
I did it justice I just did it for us all, you know.

All you people are the skewers of our dreams
Like the cat collared me
Oh what I gotta say to you got love don't
Turn it down
Turn it loud
Let it build
We got a long way to go
But you gotta start somewhere
Go door to door spread the love you got
You got the love
You get what you want
Does it matter where you get it from
I for one
Don't turn my cheek for anyone
Unturn your cheek to give your love
Love to grow

When I first listened to this song, I thought it was about drug abuse or something. Oops. It's actually about militant pacifism, that is, using love and goodness as a "weapon" of sorts against all the nasty stuff in the world. Make a bomb of love and blow it up. Hahahaha, love it.
Notice, if you will (*adjusts monocle while adopting a scholarly tone*) the line that says "I did it just as I just did it for the buzz" and later, in that line's corresponding place, it says "I did it just as I did it for us all." It looks like good ol' Dave is making a little remark about the phenomenon where you do good at first because it feels good, then later you make a habit of doing good because it is good. St. Francis de Sales makes a similar point in his book Treatise on the Love of God.

And here's another song with a similar message, "Love And Peace Or Else":

Lay down
Lay down
Lay your sweet lovely on the ground
Lay your love on the track
We’re gonna break the monster’s back
Yes we are…
Lay down your treasure
Lay it down now brother
You don’t have time
For a jealous lover

As you enter this life
I pray you depart
With a wrinkled face
And a brand new heart

I don’t know if I can take it
I’m not easy on my knees
Here’s my heart you can break it

I need some release, release, release

We need
Love and peace
Love and peace

Lay down
Lay down your guns
All your daughters of Zion
All your Abraham sons

I don’t know if I can make it
I’m not easy on my knees
Here’s my heart and you can break it
I need some release, release, release

We need
Love and peace
Love and peace

Baby don’t fight
We can talk this thing through
It’s not a big problem
It’s just me and you
You can call or I’ll phone
The TV is still on
But the sound is turned down
And the troops on the ground
Are about to dig in

And I wonder where is the love?
Where is the love?
Where is the love?
Where is the love?
Love and peace

This song, to me, sounds a lot like Jesus. All this stuff about laying down your guns, treasure and jealous lovers sounds familiar to me...Like we all need to face what we know is hard: denying ourselves and living Godlike charity so that this world turns out better. It may seem weird to us at first ("I'm not easy on my knees") but in the end it will be a much greater good than if we haven't ("We're gonna break the monster's back").
,+,+,+===---===-++++---========-----..,/_=--=-==+=+++@@<><><><><><><.><.><.>
<.{}.> Whoba. All of a sudden I've become very fond of playing with the keyboard, as I'm sure you can see. In other words, I've run out of things to say.
Toodle-pip, all
~~Badblogger James

It's like "Stomp" with computers

2006-11-15T15:08:00.000-08:00

Okay, so maybe Albino Blacksheep has some dumb stuff, maybe some bad stuff, maybe some controversial stuff. But this, this, my friends, is a keeper.
Tell me that that is not amazing.
Just another random snippet for y'all. Sometime soon I may actually post something of substance.

Read this, now!

2006-11-12T13:07:00.000-08:00

A shpiffing post by the great Judson W. Virden on the creation of everything. If you haven't read it already, please do so now.

Some (perhaps less than random) observations

2006-10-12T16:20:00.000-07:00

I think (emphasis on the word think) that I may have come up with a reason why people, especially today, seem to avoid living a religious life. By "religious," I simply mean one where God and their faith is put as first priority. Previously we may have thought that it was because of simple laziness and apathy. Really, though, I personally think it's a different emotion, but one that has the same effect as laziness in that it keeps people from acting. That emotion is fear. And like many fears, it's pretty irrational.

I think people probably freak out over the supposed austerity of religious life. They think "religion" (specifically, "Catholicism") and they think of dark convents with brick walls and scratchy bedsheets; with sour-faced, middle-aged women skulking around in tasteless black and white clothing. Or they think solemn vigils in which people kneel before a somber, grim crucifix, fingering Rosary beads and muttering the Hail Mary like one would mutter some sort of magic spell. Or they think of preachers behind a podium, swinging their arms out to indicate the width of the unquenchable fire that will consume us all. Scary stuff!

What these poor blokes don't realize is that while these images may be true for some unfortunate people, it really isn't what religion, or at least Christianity, is all about. They are taking the supposed "bad things" about religion and blowing them out of proportion.
At it's core, Christianity is a joyful religion! What? Joyful? You crazy, foo'? You think fasting and having to go to Church and not being able to sin (gaaack!) is joyful?
To an extent, yup, that's exactly how I see it.

In order to understand what I'm talking about, you have to do/take into account a number of things:

Parts of what God asks of us can be scary. I'm sure we all have personal examples of this; I know I do. The thing is, if we have the guts to at least try and do what we know we should do, we will win a huge victory: one over ourselves. We will free ourselves, ultimately, if we take that plunge. Whatever evil in our lives is holding us down, if we follow God's prompting and attempt to get rid of it, we will actually feel good. We will be that much more free.
All the fasting and other nasty-wasty disciplines really aren't such a big part of Christianity; apart from Lent and Fridays, as far as I know, God (through the Church) requires nothing more from us in the way of voluntary self-discipline. That doesn't mean it's not necessary; sometimes voluntarily choosing to let go of the pleasures, comforts, and ego-boosts of this world is extremely good for us. The thing to remember is this: moderation in everything. And also remember this, taken from a quote by Someone (isn't that informative?): Obedience is greater than sacrifice. Which leads me to another point
The best thing we could possibly seek is to unite our wills to God's. That's actually simpler than it sounds. I've personally narrowed it down to three things: we follow God's commandments, we do our best to act in charity to all people, and we peacefully accept everything that happens to us. Whether an event is good or bad, we will accept it with joy because it came from God, and that can only mean one thing: It is the absolute best thing we could possibly have. Snazzy, no?

Lastly, you have to know this: You cannot really understand what I'm talking about unless you really try it, and I mean try it. God promises us all peace and joy* if we just take up our crosses and follow Him. To take up our cross doesn't mean to throw everything away and go live like hermits in the Himalayas. It simply means to let ourselves and our desires go, to let them go so that we can purge the evil from our lives and accept God's will.

How hard is that, really?

*By the way, that isn't just referring to Heaven. We'll get real happiness, peace and joy in this life, too. Dead serious. And something else I've observed: if we get in the habit of putting our lives inGod's hands, He will often make things work out well for us, not only spiritually but often in worldly terms, as well (as long as it's good for us, of course). Isn't that groovy? Why wait?

Foto phun

2006-10-11T15:33:00.000-07:00

Since I actually have a digital camera, I figured I may as well show off some of its fruits, since said fruits really weren't doing anything else. Apart from, you know, collecting dust in a memory card.

This is the typical, artsy-interpretation-of-a-lone-traffic-light shot. Psh.

Pretty self-explanatory.

And, uh, yeah. This whole picture-posting process, I have found, is extremely awkward and hard to control. So I think I'll stop before it blows up in my face. I have to go, anyway.
Toodles.

While I feel the feeling...

2006-10-04T18:16:00.000-07:00

You know, it's been a while since I've posted. (*runs fingers lovingly over keyboard...bleeaugh*) I feel like totally ranting and spilling my guts stream of consciousness style. But even a stream of consciousness takes a little thought...it's not like everything that goes through my head will make it through my fingers onto the keyboard...I love people...people drive me crazy...not really, but they can be a pain...and a bliss...we have lots of homework as sophomores. What's the deal with that, I thought Randy said sophomore year would be easier. Liar, I should sternum-tap him. I support deltoid compression, do you? *SMACK!*
God is interesting...you can't catergorize Him, which makes Him really cool, but also makes Him seem more than a little inaccesible...I mean, you piucture Him as an old person with a beard, then you get some paradigm shift that makes you picture Him as a ball of fire, then another paradigm shift makes Him look like the people you love, then...andthenandthenandthenandthen...
Funny how life always makes the most sense after the fact...as in the total nerd I made of myself freshman year...and as in the total nerd I may be making of myself right now. *Giggle* I guess I don't care.
By golly, Paul, John, all you other folks, you're right...girls are confusing...rather, our (that is, male-kind's) perception of them can become so wrong that they seem confusing...but then again, what is there that you can understand perfectly?
By the way, Brian and Joe, if you're reading this, you may be interested to know that your influencing me to make a blog, way back when, has in turn caused me (at least, I guess me) to influence several of my friends into getting their own blogs...freaky, huh? Butterfly effect and all that.
Wheeeee....this is fun. Golly, I sound like Ryan on Red Bull....wheeeeeeeeeeeee...
Ahhh...I gotta do homework now, curses.
I gotta do this more often. It's extremely therapeutic.
Toodles, peoples.

There's hope for "the schlock block"

2006-09-03T22:05:00.000-07:00

Maybe I'm insane, but I actually feel a little optimistic about the state of our culture. Granted, being a blogger I guess I'm expected to be a doomsayer, but what if there isn't any doom I can say that someone else hasn't said already?
My family, I think, watches a lot of movies, perhaps to compensate for the fact that we have no T.V. I also think this is a good thing, because watching movies is not an apathetic thing for us. We don't just sit there and watch the movie; we'll actually have conversations over it. It rocks. Anyway...

In all these movies, I'm beginning to see some positive trends. Respect for life is becoming prominent in lots of movies; some could be considered downright pro-life, i.e. The Island.
I'm beginning to see movies combine entertainment with depth (well, I guess that's always been around, but now...I dunno, it just seems more common. More valuable). An example of a thoroughly fun--if at times disturbing--movie that is also unafraid to delve into complex moral questions is Minority Report, which, coincidentally, stars Tom Cruise, who could be considered the physical manifestation of American pop culture.

Then you've got M. Night Shyamalan, whose movies deliver thrills without the brainless violence, and sensitivity without the saccharine (mostly--no one's perfect). This reminds me, I still need to see Lady in the Water.

In comedy we've got the Farrelly Bros., whose movies Shallow Hal and The Ringer are both quite funny in parts, and quite stupid and tactless in others. But overall, they have a lot of heart and remind us of the humanity and rights of groups of people who tend to be shunted aside by society. I.E., the mentally impaired. By the way, don't call someone or something "retarded" unless you mean it's literally mentally impaired, which it usually isn't.

Let's see, what else...

Oh, we rented and watched some of the first season of "Grey's Anatomy" a while back. Like many successful T.V. shows, it had great characters you easily sympathize with, intriguing plots and enough illicit affairs to annoy us (If there's one thing Hollywood and Christianity are nowhere near agreeing on yet, it's sex). But it also had depth to it; one episode in particular seemed to take a decidedly pro-life view to the rights of people in "vegetative states."
Anyway, there's some observations of mine, and I have to stop because everyone's going to bed, the comouter is in my parents' walk-in closet so I'll have to scram shortly, and if I save this as a draft I'll never finish it. So, g'night, all.

Curious, curious

2006-08-13T11:41:00.000-07:00

What was it people were saying about overpopulation again?

They could be on to something

2006-08-01T14:56:00.000-07:00

The hippies, I mean. The people who wear shirts that say "Hugs, Not Drugs." Those sorts of people. And...well, I'm having the usual writer's block that comes when I try to start a post.
It's interesting that we're so hung up on world peace. It kind of surprises me, come to think of it, because we should be pushing for something much more important. We should be pushing for world love. I know that sounds unbelievably mushy, gushy, cuddly and candy-coated. Not to mention weird. But, as you knew I was going to say, it's not.
About a week or two ago, I was watching a recording of a lecture by a psychologist/psychiatrist--whatever the difference is--named Leo Buscaglia. He made an interesting point about American and British culture. We're afraid to show affection here. You can't just meet a friend on the street and give them a bear hug. You can do that in Italy. According to Buscaglia, you're almost required to do that in Italy. Hugging, kissing, all that stuff is standard procedure there, but it's frowned upon here. Partially because everything here has to have a sexual connotation stapled onto it. A grandpa can't kiss his granddaughter; he's a pedophile. A guy couldn't hug his best friend; he's homosexual. A guy certainly can't hug a girl who happens to be his friend; he's harassing her.
Why can't we take sex out of the equation? Why can't we tear down (or at least chip away at) the little walls we always build up around ourselves? Why can't we love?
'Cuz it's scary!!
For one thing, it means we have to open ourselves up to other people, something waaaay out of our comfort zone. We have to accept people's faults and problems (not to be confused with allowing these faults to seriously damage them, i.e. alcohol addiction), and admit that we have some of our own. Most of all, we have to work. We have to drop our personal agendas and be more concerned with the good of the other.
If the entire world could learn to do that, and not just individual people, but nations, corporations and communites as well, then there will be peace. Love brings peace. What a scary concept.
Yeah, love is scary. So are roller coasters. The Hammer, a popular carnival ride, comes to my mind. For those who don't know, the Hammer is a ride in which you sit in a closed-off little...cage, for lack of a better word, and are then spun around vertically in a circle. Rather fast. And it's not always a motor doing the spinning; gravity will kick in, too, often causing you to hover momentarily in space at the top of the circle, then come careening back down and around again. I know that's a terrible description, but basically, the Hammer is a scary ride, at least to me. And I had never gone on it until a few months ago; being too skeered. But that time back in May, I got on it without thinking carefully beforehand. I was sitting in the little cage, wondering how I could have been so stupid, and then it started.
Wow, it was fun. Several times my stomach felt like it was going to evaporate, and apparently my screaming (I'd really prefer to say "howling." It sounds slightly more masculine) could be heard over much of the fairgrounds. But I was very glad I had done it, in the end.
I guess that's kind of what love's like. Kinda.
It's scary for most of us to contemplate, especially in this country where our job can take higher importance than our children, but if we summon up the guts and try it, it will be ultimately rewarding for everyone involved. Granted, our stomachs will feel like they're about to evaporate at times; the sacrifices we may be called upon to make will seem like a lot. But still, in the end, we'll be glad we did it. We'll be glad we loved ourselves (sought what was best for us rather than what we wanted), loved others (sought what was best for them rather than what we wanted them to want) and, most importantly, loved God (sought what He wanted from us rather than what we wanted Him to want from us).
But you know what the big clincher is? Most people think they know this stuff already, myself included. But we can all be amazingly hypocritical about it, in our various ways. "Of course," we say, "of course love's a great thing. I just don't have time for it right now."
Make time, pumpkin! Don't say. Do! Don't rationalize (not to be confused with actually trying to figure out what's best). Do!
Do! Do! Do! Do!

Guess what, guys?

2006-07-15T19:30:00.000-07:00

To calm the howl of summer boredom (boredom? Psh. Not in this house), I decided to adopt a project (or three). Along with repainting my room, I decided "Why not write a novel?" Oh, gee, why not? So that's what I've been doing with my computer time instead of blogging, alas. But anyhoo...
It's not a terribly epic plot, nor complicated, nor adrenalin-pumping, nor knee-slapping. I decided to start with something simple, something I know. Namely, the situations brainless teenagers can get themselves into. Now that I'm done making my apologies, I'll explain why I'm telling you all this:
I decided putting this thing online would be a good excuse for a blog post. As you can see, I was right. So I now have it in it's own wittle bwog of its own, right here.
In case anyone's interested.
P.S. Don't ask about the title. It just popped into my head one day and I realized that, in this age when most music comes from guys calling themselves things like "Loudermilk," "Pedro the Lion," and, the weirdest, "Death Cab for Cutie*," why not call a band what I called the story?
*you can only imagine this band's polar opposite: "Life boat from ugly."

Happy Dance

2006-06-25T13:22:00.000-07:00

So, on Friday we (two of my brothers, my dad, Antonio Ledesma, Brandon Andersen and me) are driving back from Christ the Redeemer camp, and we're all groggy and, well, yeah. So we drive to Antonio's house to drop him off, and Dad says I should help him bring his stuff in. Okay, so I do that. When we get into his house, Antonio's sister, Victoria (who is coincidentally one of my good friends from school) is there to greet us. I observe streamers and balloons on the walls. Hmm...kinda weird. After hugging her brother, Victoria says that she has a surprise for me. She directs me to the doors to their den/living room, opens them, and suddenly:
SURPRISE!!!!!
Did I mention that Friday was my birthday?
Anyway, a good number of my friends and all my non-camp-participating family were lurking behind that door, waiting to give me a coronary. They all did a good job, too. Upon seeing this spectacle, I jump about three feet in the air and immediately run in the opposite direction. Eventually, they help me come to grips with this surprise party. To be honest, it didn't seem real at first. Ever since I'd left camp, I'd been expecting to go home, zonk out for a while, and celebrate my birthday the following Saturday...not immediately after simply dropping a friend off. It was awesome, though. Those moments when I was initially surprised and when I came to realize that my friends and family had been planning this for months, totally without my slightest inkling, are probably going to be burned on my memory. And then, of course, there was the actual party, but that didn't quite have the flashbulb quality of the moment when I opened those doors.
Anyway, in short, I love my friends. I have some great ones. And what's really great is that my family (hooray for them, too, 100,000x) threw another party for me on Saturday, during which I got to see even more people that I hadn't seen the previous day. And then there's also the fact that my parents and grandparents pooled their resources to get me this SCHWEET digital video camera. Hahahaha, gloatgloat. My amateur filmmaking career begins now.
Wow. Just...wow. I'm such a lucky dude.

First post in, like, a million years

2006-06-11T18:40:00.000-07:00

Today is the second day of summer. On Friday, I, about a half dozen friends, and various members of my family kicked it off with the best kind of bash: a (mostly) spontaneous one. It was awesome. After going to see Mission Impossible III (one of the few movies that you can actually burn calories by watching, I'm willing to bet), we decided to all head over to my house, and, amazingly, when we got there my mom had ordered six pizzas and was in the process of making other things, i.e. salad. It was incredible that she was able to just do that, after receiving forewarning from my dad. I wuv my pawents.
And later traffic on Swift Ave. found us stage fighting in the islands in the middle of the road, and imitating Abbey Road on the crosswalks. We're probably the weirdest bunch of hooligans society has yet seen. And all without drugs!
And lastly, possibly most spontaneously of all, we ended the whole glorious thing by dancing in the living room to the likes of The Police, Queen and Aretha Franklin. Wheeeee...
Now it's Sunday, and that Friday night seems, well, like a long time ago. Since it is still the weekend, the actual feeling of summer hasn't yet hit me, but mental aspects of it have. And it's weird.
Now I'm largely deprived of the company of people I've seen 5 out of 7 days of every week for 9 months (a few of whom I'll likely never see again). I'm not depressed about this; it's just weird...well, yes, a little sad. For three whole months, I'll be sort of isolated, at least compared to before. Also, while school life kept my schedule going at an almost psychotic pace, it has now slowed down to near nil. I have a grand total of three things to worry about now every day: practicing drums, practicing singing, and rehearsals in the evening for the Wizard of Oz. I hate to whine, but it's a fact: boredom looms.
So now I'm forced to come up with inventive ways to occupy myself. Here are some things:

See all those movies I've been wanting to see but never had time to
Blog more (no guarantees, though)
READ MORE!!!
Spend time just lounging at the library
"Go nocturnal," occassionally. That is, go to bed at seven P.M. and get up at 3:30 A.M. to roam aimlessly around town until dawn, when NO ONE'S AROUND!
Swim at the pool a block away
At some point, walk across the Tri-Cities with my friend, Randy.
And other things, but they're not coming to mind, so yah.

Anyhoo, hope y'all have as kewl a summer as mine has the untapped potential to be.

On snarky energy

2006-05-14T14:49:00.000-07:00

A couple of months ago, I saw Mary Poppins for the first time in a while. As often happens when I read a book or see a movie that I haven't, uh, exposed myself to since little kid-hood, I saw Mary Poppins on different levels than before. Despite the fact that it is named after the eccentric nanny, I think, in some ways, the story is really about Mr. Banks; how he is changed from a cold, rather self-centered man to one who finally sees what's important in his life, namely, his family. What causes this change in him? Mary Poppins, and the more than slightly crazy world she brings with her.
Mary Poppins is a true nonconformist. Who else would fly around via umbrella, or have tea parties on the ceiling, or bring a troop of tap-dancing chimney sweeps gallumphing through an upper-class British neighborhood? Someone who really doesn't care about what is typical, or "normal," or even sensible; in other words, a nonconformist.
See, a nonconformist is not someone who slashes their clothes or sings political protest songs or pierces their eyelids. People who do these things are conforming just as much as the rest of us; they're conforming to the expected patterns of nonconformity. Hahahah, the finger of irony doth point. Anyhoo...
Another example of a nonconformist is someone who would walk through their high school in a sweeping white pioneer dress, carry a rat named...uh, I forget...with them, and sing "Happy Birthday" to people while playing the ukelele. This person is known as Stargirl Caraway. She laughs loudly, gives greeting cards to total strangers, and carries a flower and vase with her to put on her desk throughout the school day. And she just so happens to enchant the rather uninteresting Leo Borlock, who, like Mr. Banks from Mary Poppins, is given a new perspective on what's important in life thanks to his relationship with Stargirl.
This sort of nonconformity should be called, I think, "snarky energy"(I didn't coin this term, Opus did, on the last page of his 25th Anniversary Collection). Snarky energy is an impulse we all have to do something totally out of the ordinary, to do away with caring about "normalcy," at least for a little while. Does it mean losing all aspects of civility and civilization? No. Humans are social creatures, and we have society for a reason. But I think our snarky energy is an important resource that is there to keep us from getting swallowed up in society. It keeps us from losing our identity.
Snarky energy is one thing we all need, and all have, but also have a chronic tendency to ignore. If we payed more attention to it, we'd care less about waging war and lawsuit and would get a much bigger kick out of (literally and figuratively) stopping and smelling the roses. Snarky energy helps to ignore the supposedly important things (such as being accepted by the world) and, though it may seem silly at first, will eventually show us what's really important. Ultimately, I think it will help us connect with ourselves and then we will be able to improve ourselves. Isn't that somethin'?

Oh, yeah...this needs a title

2006-04-29T14:17:00.000-07:00

Wow. April 29, and it's already roasting here. It's up in the 80's, which, if you were in the 60's just last week, is hot. The weather changes so fast here it's like...like...I dunno, an Amtrak.
So, due to it's being so hot, we turned on the air conditioning. Funny, I'd forgotten about that little feature. Anyway, we turned on the AC, and I suppose that when it's on it gives off a smell, a very faint one, so that it's not so much a smell as some intangible sensation, if you know what I mean. I started detecting this smell shortly after the AC went on about an hour ago, when I was doing homework. I was listening to Coldplay at the time, and consequently was already in a state of groovy nirvana fit to put my younger brothers to sleep. No, I was not on any chemicals; music my drug of choice, thanks.
So this smell comes drifting into my room, and suddenly I'm barraged with images from last summer, when we were brand-new into this house. That summer, because it had so much change in it, has already been branded thoroughly on my brain, so the ensuing fit of nostalgia was...rather strong. Not that I was reduced to tears, it's just that that smell gave me such an amazing sense of last summer.
This actually happens to me all the time (but I have no idea if it's something that happens to most people as much). Certain smells and music tend to "bring me back" to certain places and times, which I know happens to most people, but I think I may be blessed with an extreme case of it. Many of the CDs in my room remind me of something when I listen to them, and deja-vu from my nose is fairly common, too. I guess that may sound slightly creepy, but it's actually enjoyable. It may even be called a guilty pleasure, considering that we should be living in the present. But the year that is now almost behind me was so unique that I almost can't help it.
Ah, the glory of summer.
* * * * * * *
Oh, and I figure I'd better mention this:
For the past month or so, I and three of my siblings have been rehearsing in a production of Aladdin (yes, the Disney one). Unfortunately, due to some unfairness, we needed to perform the "Junior" version, which meant two things:
1): No one under 18 was able to audition, which didn't affect me, but prevented some prominent talents from lending their skill
2): The script was significantly pared down and adapted; it's only about an hour long in itself.
However...
We found ourselves with a fantastic team of directors, including the incomperable Lisa Pixler and Janice McIntyre. Lisa, as "the" director, really knew her stuff, and on top of that has great special-effects savvy. Janice has spent much of her career as an artist, and gave us one of the biggest, most beautiful sets we've ever had. Susanne Burroughs gave us choreography that was simple but looked great, and Debbi Teague kept us on top of our harmonies, among many other things. So, consequently, what could have easily been a short, rather trite show instead opened to a full house last night, a house filled with one of the best, most responsive audiences I've personally ever performed for, looking and sounding great, and getting a screaming standing ovation at the end. Oh, man, was it glorious.
I love theater.

Fun with Paint

2006-04-23T11:54:00.000-07:00

Just try and tell me that that isn't cool. Just try.
Paint is awesome.

Viva Jesus!

2006-04-16T13:40:00.000-07:00

It's Easter! Aaaand...yeah, I actually don't have much to say.
I suppose I could sum up Lenten eventens, but I really can't think of much comment to make on that, either. Except that on Thursday I had a pretty humbling experience. How so?
Well, let's just say it's interesting that sometimes while we can feel our heads getting a little swelled, since it's not happening with conscious effort on our part there's not much we can do about it; in other words, while I never actually said to myself: "Oh, I am just so on top of this spiritual thang," that feeling of superiority was still creeping in, and it came and slapped me in the face last week after I discovered some "advice" I had given was badly taken but not badly needed. Fortunately, things have been (more or less) reconciled, but that didn't stop me feeling like a dork.
Hooray for shots of dorkiness. Anyway, enough of this, it's Easter, eat chocolate, say "Hallelujah!", be happy!

What God Hath Wrought

2006-04-08T18:15:00.000-07:00

I just got back from a hiking trip (though I'd really call it an "expotition" if you Winnie-the-Pooh fans know what I mean) throughout the area of the Palouse Falls in Washington. It was awesome, in that my previous image of Eastern Washington being a dry, sagebrush-y and overall boring place was blown out of the water (ugh. No pun intended). Picture some of this:
Staring over a chain-link fence, you see below you a pool of muddy, coffee colored water, which is surrounded by soaring cliffs of rock over which creeps moss, grass and shrub. Above the pool, through a niche carved into the top of the cliffs, thousands upon thousands of gallons of water are cascading downwards, a miniature Niagra.
About five hundred feet east-ish of this spectacle is another: The river flowing from the falls curves and winds about two hundred feet directly below you as you look down, and as you look up...You see an expanse of green hills which suddenly collapse into a craggy gorge through which the river is following its millenia-old path. Over this view, the sunlight seemingly flows through the gray rain clouds that are now dispersing, and the entire view is lit with the burning, golden light of sun after a storm. Wow.
Then, go a ways south and you see wooden power lines, lacing electricity across the landscape, their insulators glinting like glass buttons. These power lines are running parallel to a railroad, which is just emerging from a canyon of dynamite-carved rock. You are standing at the very point where the canyon walls slope back to the ground, and looking down at the tracks, you can imagine dust-smeared workers hacking and chipping through the rock decades previously, planting the dynamite charges that will blow tons of the stone sky-high.

Once the tracks have emerged from the canyon, you see alongside them three, maybe four trees. These trees are old, their branches bare of leaves but covered in yellowish moss, and they have a thin, twisting, spiky beauty to them that speaks of age. Blaaaugh, I'm waxing unforgivably poetic, but unfortunately for you this is cyberspace, and you can't slap me. Hah!
The last stop I want to mention is farther away, to the north. Once again, you eventually find yourself staring down a craggy precipice, but this one is only fifty feet or so, and a somewhat muddy trail will lead you down it. You follow it down and find yourself alongside the same railroad you were next to earlier, walking on a bed of rocks that, once again, have likely been blown to bits by explosives. Wheeeee.
The trail switches back down a steep hill covered in these rocks, and eventually, when you're at the bottom of this hill, you then enter a forest of exceptionally tall sagebrush, about as tall as a full-grown man. Over this sagebrush, you can see a sheer bluff of basalt columns looming in the background, and in the center of this bluff is a strange pockmark, formed by some of the columns curving about in a very peculiar way.
Through the sagebrush you can see swirling, roaring rapids, muddy brown like the rest of the Palouse River. In and around the rapids are rocks, random lumps of land, and one or two outcroppings that make a fine place to stop and have lunch. In the midst of this, you stop for quite a while, to savor both your surroundings and the pleasant change in the weather. As you sit on a rock outcropping, staring at the bluff, the sagebrush, the swirling brown rapids, whatever, you reflect on how beautiful the place is, contrary to your previous perception of the area as being either shrubby or dead. You wish you could come down into this little valley, with the bluff and the rapids, as often as you liked, becuase while it's beautiful, it's not a tourist destination; it's not riddled with trails, litter, and plaques describing how Lewis and Clark fought of the Hopi Indians here, or whatever. It's deserted. It's a haven. As C.S. Lewis may have liked to put it, it's a patch of God-light.

Ode to Goth

2006-03-25T11:13:00.000-08:00

When did cynicism come into style? When did it become popular and seemingly intelligent to rebel against life, and to declare that life is nothing but a series of letdowns, backstabbings and cruel twists of fate? When did we get the impression that we are nothing but dust clinging to the surface of a cold, barren rock hurtling through space, alone without rhyme or reason? And when did we decide that it is best to show this chronic pessimism in everyday life? By grumbling to ourselves, complaining and shutting ourselves off from others we further the cause of sadness (not to mention we do absolutely nothing to fix whatever problem we were complaining about). We make the world a little bleaker.
As if it isn't bleak enough.
Let's turn this trend of misery around. Let's come to realize that life really is a continuous miracle, and that we really are incredibly lucky. Let's come out of our holes, put the pedal to the metal, wake up and smell the coffee, apply ourselves and make the world a better place. Let's realize that life is more than just "not bad." It's pretty awesome. Fluffy as this sounds, as much like a sugar-coated kindergarten teacher this may seem, it's really not a bad idea, for, (to quote Dave Matthews) "life is short but sweet for certain."
A little message from the Society for a Society that Stops Pretending to be Miserable. Thank you.

Okay, I lied

2006-03-12T17:14:00.000-08:00

So, I'm driving to school with my mom, and she tells me that she's surprised I give up this blog for Lent. It seems to her that, since Lent is about reflection and spiritually advancing oneself, it doesn't make sense to stop the blog, which is a type of reflection, I guess. She suggests I use it as such: reflections.
Mmmkay.
I hatched up this little plot for Lent. I thought about writing spiritual reflections, and (anonymously) making a few copies of them and dropping them in other students' lockers. Kinda goofy, but my reasoning behind it was this: while I may not come up with anything of genius, writing for the sake of "enlightening" others is enlightening for me, as well, and so writing the reflections would be a good idea. And in the event I came up with any words of wisdom, well, why not share them?
I've written two of those so far, and those will be the meat of this very hypocritical post.

****

“Remember you are dust,
And to dust you shall return.”
Think about these words the priest says for a moment--because they’re true. Without God’s Will, we would cease to exist. Without His guidance, attention and constant, loving care, all things in existence would dissolve into a blizzard of atoms; meaningless. It’s because of God’s care and love that you exist to read this, and that I exist to write it. Without Him, we are dust. During Lent, we should remember this and praise God for having the love to keep the thin strands of our existence together and in His hand.
Take a moment to do that now; thank God and praise Him for the unbelievable gift of your life.

******

Pain is Gain…what?
One of the best things about religion is how it gives meaning to suffering. The general opinion of the world is that pain should be avoided AT ALL COSTS. Religion knows better. In many ways, suffering is a gift from God. How’s that?

When going through a difficulty, we come through stronger. Mistakes, suffering, and pain educate us and build us up.
Jesus underwent unimaginable, torturous pain—mental, spiritual and, of course, physical—to save our skins. Whenever we experience suffering, we should be thankful for the opportunity to imitate Jesus and come closer to Him by following His example and accepting what is given to us. It’s abstract, I know, but it’s true.
Our suffering has unbelievable spiritual value. When you’ve complained to your parents about something, perhaps they have said “Offer it up.” Right, whatever. No, really, they’re right. We can offer up our suffering for the good of others. Another abstract concept, but think about it: by offering up our own suffering for others we can, once again, make a tiny imitation of what Jesus did. The whole reason He suffered was so we wouldn’t have to. When we suffer, and offer up the suffering to God so someone else won’t have to (whether in Purgatory, or through sin, or literally through physical suffering, whatever), He will hear us and accept the gift.

These are only some of the reasons that suffering is to our (and others’) advantage. Now, does this mean we all turn into Masochists, flogging ourselves with leather belts whenever we get the opportunity? No. What it does mean is that, next time something doesn’t go our way, instead of griping we should just silently deal with it, and remember all the good things it is doing for us. Believe me, it’s doing good things.

"Everybody's Happy Now"

2006-02-26T20:22:00.000-08:00

It's not often that someone makes a post out of a book report, but this one that I wrote for Brave New World seemed pretty good to me; when I wrote it, the words just sort of poured out. Not often that a luxury like that comes along.

"'Everybody’s happy now'

Brave New World, by Aldous Huxley

In London, at some undefined time in the future, the world is a very different
place. Human beings are mass-produced in laboratories and mass-raised in huge
nurseries. Each human is specifically created and conditioned to be in a
specific caste, from the beautiful, intelligent Alphas all the way down to the
Semi-Morons, who are barely smart enough to run an elevator. Even the lowest
castes are happy, though, since all people are specifically modeled for and
therefore perfectly at home in their caste. No one complains, and if there is
any pain or problem in your life, you can take a few half-grams of soma, the
perfect drug, and sleep your problems away while enjoying dream vacations in the
tropics. And, of course, there’s sex, provided you follow the Malthusian Drill
and use your contraceptives correctly, for Ford (that quaint old idea of God has
now been replaced with someone far more worthy of admiration) knows we wouldn’t
want our females doing something as barbaric and uncivilized as giving birth.
Motherhood, fatherhood, and the family are several old horrors we no longer have
to deal with.
This is where Brave New World takes place, in a perfect, controlled society, where
everyone is happy and all the “best” pleasures are readily available without any
consequences. There are, however, a few who are a little dissatisfied. Take, for
example, Bernard Marx, who is something of an outcast because he was created an
Alpha but for some reason came out more stunted and short than the other members
of his caste. He gets irritated with the general I’m-fat-and-I’m-happy
mentality, and wonders sometimes if ignorant bliss really is what humanity is
meant for. His friend, Helmholtz Watson, is properly perfect but also shares
some of Bernard’s frustration. Then there’s the beautiful and oblivious Lenina
Crowe, who has a liking for Bernard and takes a trip with him down to a Savage
Reservation (which is a sort of Indian reservation) in New Mexico.
It is at the Savage Reservation where they meet John. Through a serious mistake, John
wound up being born on the reservation to a woman named Linda, who had been one
of the reservation’s civilized visitors but was accidentally impregnated and
left on the reservation. John has spent his entire life on the reservation, but
is obviously quite a misfit, and suffers a lot for it. He is pretty much left to
fend for himself, for his mother spends much of her time in bed. Almost entirely
alone, he develops his own sense of truth, beauty, and religion. He and Bernard
instantly click when they meet, and eventually, Bernard offers to take John with
him to the “civilized world.” John accepts, and he, Lenina, and Bernard take off
back to London.
John, known in London as “The Savage,” is a howling success, and his fame
catapults Bernard into fame as well. Unfortunately, it is not long before
success goes to Bernard’s head, and it goes to John’s head as well, but in an
entirely different way. Throw Helmholtz and Lenina into the whole mess, and soon
these four people find themselves dazed, angry, weary and confused in a world
that is quickly pleasuring them to death.
Using an omniscient third person point of view, Aldous Huxley shows us a classic example
of the Man vs. Society conflict type, and how perfect happiness just might be
enough to make us miserable. Running through the book is the theme that
happiness is hollow, unfulfilling and even carnal if it comes to us at the
expense of things such as truth, beauty, and individuality. In our pursuit to
rid ourselves of pain and trouble, we may very possibly cause more pain and
trouble for ourselves, as John, Bernard, Lenina and Helmholtz find out. Like
most books of this genre, Brave New World has a dark, cynical mood, but there
are times when there’s hope. Through the pessimism of the story, Huxley teaches
us an important lesson: Given the choice between happiness and the “important
things” of life, it is often best and most fulfilling to suck it up and choose
the important things, such as truth, beauty, virtue, God, family, and
individuality. "

Anyhoo, thar be that.
Also, Lent starts Wednesday, and I think I'll do the same thing I did last year and leave this blog dormant for those 40 days. So, until Easter, this is James Powers, signing off. And all that jazz.
P.S. My apologies for the ridiculously scattered text above. I don't know why, but for some reason the old compy sees fit to paste large bodies of text in a totally demented fashion.
P.P.S. It's entirely likely that the scattered text only appears scattered on Explorer (being less than an expert on the weird behavior of browsers, I wouldn't know). If that's the case, then users of other browsers: please disregard. Users of Explorer: my most heartfelt condolences.
Now James Powers is signing off and all that jazz. For real this time.

3 o'clock tick tock

2006-02-20T14:29:00.000-08:00

You know what's really sad? False advertising. Specifically, deceptive packaging. If you were standing in Blockbuster and happened to pick up The Exorcism of Emily Rose and look at it, it would appear to be little more than another cheesy horror flick. In fact, if you were to pop in the DVD and look at the start menu, it would still look very cheesy. Not until you actually start the movie can you have any inkling that it is not, in fact, just an assembly-line rip off of The Exorcist.
The only indication any of our family (at least, those of us who were watching the movie) had that Emily Rose was any good was an obscure reference to it somewhere in the flotsam of the Catholic.com forums. It was with some trepidation that we popped the disc in and pressed play.
However, despite our first impressions, it turned out to be a very good movie. Why? Several reasons:
1): It's scary. Duh. Of course, it's not that hard to make a movie scary; just make all the lighting dim, use a lot of squealy violins, and use the standard tricks to build up suspense (i.e. have your protagonist approach a door at the end of a hallway veeery slooowly while the door rattles for no apparent reason and the violins, of course, screech ominously). Emily Rose had all these features in it, but there were numerous other things that just jumped at you without any build up, things that you didn't see coming at all but still scared the daylights out of you.
2): It does not totally botch its portrayal of Catholicism. In fact, its portrayal of demonic possession, exorcisms and general Catholic teaching on those subjects is very true to reality. It does not make the idea of possession seem like a silly superstition, in fact, it presents a fairly powerful case for it, however...
3): ...It does not give you definite answers. The movie never clearly shows whether Emily's condition was indeed caused by possession or if it was an extremely severe psychological problem. It leaves you to decide for yourself what seems most likely, but at the same time it forces you to ask very important questions, such as "Are there demons?" "Are there angels?" and "What is evil?".
4): It's well acted, especially in the case of whoever played Emily herself. The character of Emily undergoes incredible bodily contortions and holds them for a long time, undergoes extreme physical and spiritual pain, and does some...extreme things with her voice, all of which the actress playing Emily portrayed admirably. What you see in the movie is what the actress did; there was very little, if any, digital tinkering done with her image or voice.
If you aren't opposed to a good scare and to some thought-provoking material, I really recommend you see this movie--regardless of the cheesy looking cover.

Desolation

2006-02-05T18:11:00.000-08:00

You know what the best part of having the Seahawks at the Super Bowl today is? THERE ARE NO PEOPLE. The streets, parking lots, and everything else are near empty. Which is why I took about an hour to walk around town (in bee-autiful 50 degree weather, by the way), with music playing in my ears and a pen/notebook in a backpack in case I ever got the urge to ruminate (or just scribble), and to just revel in the silence.
In the meantime, about two-thirds of the rest of the city remained indoors, watching the Seahawks claw their way back to (or near---can't really tell as the game isn't over yet) the top. Well, to each his own.

Whuzzat? Bustleg Hill?

2006-01-31T19:32:00.000-08:00

I have a confession to make.
All this buzz about Brokeback Mountain has gotten me curious about the movie. You've got the liberals gushing on one side and the conservatives, well, griping on the other. This has, so far, been a decade for controversial movies. First there was The Passion, followed by Farenheit 911, and now we have Brokeback.
Anyhoo, I don't really feel like talking politik right now. I've already made my position on homosexuality clear, and if you don't already know what it is, I challenge you to guess it. Moving on...
What has incited me to make such a shocking statement as "there is an iota of curiosity within me to see Brokeback Mountain,"? Well, several things:
1): Considering that this movie has been nominated for 8 Oscars, there must be something artistically good about it. Of course, it is entirely possible that all the critical acclaim is simply coming from the fact that this movie is supposedly "taking risks" and "challenging viewers to question their beliefs," or whatever it is people like to say. I suppose it is taking risks, to a point, but one of said risks certainly is not that of ticking off critics. Pretty much the biggest risk it is taking is that of getting vocal conservatives into a tizzy, and perhaps that of having the director loved to death by half of everyone else. I'm not saying that the direction or acting in this movie is bad; it's probably fairly good, but is it so high above standard as to deserve 8 Academy nods? Hopefully it is, because if it isn't, it means our artistic community has slid hopelessly far down the left side of the brain.
2): Uuuh....I forgot. Gimme a minute. Oh, yeah:
It probably makes for an interesting story. The fact is, gays suffer(ed) a lot of persecution, and I'm sure gay cowboys in the 1800's or whenever this takes place would have been...well, it would've been bad. Doomed love stories are always interesting, and that's what Brokeback appears to mostly be (aside from the obvious fact...).
3): Good ol' fashioned concupiscence (let's assume I spelled that right) which, In Other Words, as certain members of my family like to say, is the same twisted fascination we have looking at a car wreck. The fact that this is present is incentive enough not to see this movie.
Anyhoo, I finished my homework early tonight and thought I should take the rare opportunity to share my thoughts.

Chuck for Prez!

2006-01-29T12:58:00.000-08:00

Recently, I discovered the joy of Chuck Norris jokes and, more recently, the ultimate motherlode of said jokes. So, I am taking it upon myself today to share with you some of my favorite quips about Mr. Walker Texas-Whatever:

Chuck Norris has counted to infinity. Twice.
When Chuck Norris jumps in the water, he doesn't get wet, the water gets Chuck Norrised.
Our universe is constantly expanding; it's all trying to get away from Chuck Norris.
Time waits for no man. Except Chuck Norris.
When Chuck Norris turns on the light, the roaches don't scatter. They vaporize.
There are no steroids in baseball, just players Chuck Norris has breathed on.
Chuck Norris invented black. In fact, he invented the entire spectrum of visible light. Except pink. Tom Cruise invented pink.
Chuck Norris doesn't throw up if he drinks too much. Chuck Norris throws down!
Chuck Norris ordered a Big Mac at Burger King, and got one.
When Chuck Norris does a pushup, he isn't lifting himself up, he's pushing the Earth down.
Tom Clancy has to pay royalties to Chuck Norris because "The Sum of All Fears" is the name of Chuck Norris's autobiography.
If at first you don't succeed, you're obviously not Chuck Norris.
Someone once asked Chuck Norris if his real name was Charles. This is recorded by historians as being the dumbest thing anyone has ever done.

I wonder how Chuck Norris feels about all this?

waitasec, isn't that a choking hazard?

2006-01-21T15:28:00.000-08:00

What Idiotic thing are you most likely to be caught doing? (fixed)
brought to you by Quizilla

Sha-ZAM!

2006-01-14T10:06:00.000-08:00

I'm done with driver's ed! Hoo-to-the-ray!
Now all I have to worry about is the actual test, which isn't until June!
Happyhappyjoyjoy.

Twitchy

2006-01-08T15:09:00.000-08:00

When I have large chunks of free time (i.e. weekends) I ironically get an impulse to do something. And not just any something, but something with effect. Something important, dang it! Odd, considering how much time I spend flitting from one thing to another during the week. Usually, when I'm sitting there thinking about how to placate this urge, I usually end up visualizing myself in front of the computer writing something. A story. A post on this blog. An enraged letter to folks like Jack Chick. Whatever.
Of course, I rarely end up doing anything really, I dunno, effective. It gets put off for various reasons, not the least of which is the fact that any ideas I have are half-baked at best. I'm sure this is classic teenage behavior, as many of us (including myself) have/indulge the deranged idea that we will definitely grow up to be someone important. And not just important as in important to friends and family. We're talkin' important to the world. Steve Jobs, Mother Theresa, Brad Pitt; that kind of important.
It gets frustrating, having this drive to do something surge up, and you get wild with brilliant ideas, but before you can do anything with any of them that energy you had earlier fizzles out--and you find yourself in bed listening to U2 and wondering where the day went.
Part of this, of course, is what I mentioned earlier: a natural human thirst for greatness. But I think it may also come (at least in my case) from a sense of obligation. Everywhere, both in pop culture and in religion, we are being urged to live each day like it was the last one of our life. Carpe Diem and all that jazz. But even with exhortations to do something buzzing both outside and inside, all we ever really do is find ourselves dreaming but not actually doing anything. Another day slides away, and before we know it, it is the last day of our life.
How do you solve this problem? Either constantly stay on your toes, wondering: "Oh, how am I going to change the world today?!?" or just shrug the whole thing off and sink into discontented apathy. It's not like we can do something great every day.
Thoughts, anyone?

Our drug of choice

2006-01-02T14:43:00.000-08:00

Among other things, I got Switchfoot's semi-new album Nothing is Sound for Christmas. One of my favorite songs on it is called Easier than Love, and here be the lyrics:

Sex is currency
She sells cars,
She sells magazines
Addictive, bittersweet, clap your hands,
with the hopeless nicotines

Everyone's a lost romantic,
Since our love became a kissing show
Everyone's a Casanova,
Come and pass me the mistletoe

Everyone's been scared to death of dying here alone

She is easier to love
It's easier to lie
It's easier to fake and smile and bribe

It's easier leave
It's easier to lie
It's harder to face ourselves at night
Feeling alone,
What have we done?
What is the monster we've become?

Were is my soul?

Sex is industry,
The CEO, of corporate policy
Skin-deep ministry,
Suburban youth, hailing so-called liberty

Every advertising antic,
Our banner waves with a neon glow
War and love become pedantic,
We wage love with the mistletoe

Everyone's been scared to death of dying here alone

She, is easier to love
It's easier to lie
It's easier to fake and smile and bribe

It's easier leave
It's easier to lie
It's harder to face ourselves at night
Feeling alone,
What have we done?
What is the monster we've become?

Were is my soul?

It's easier to love,
It's easier to love

It's easier to love,
It's easier to love

She, is easier to love,
It's easier to, love

Everyone's been scared to death of,
Everyone's been scared to death of,
Everyone's been scared to death of dying here alone,
alone

(Sing)
It's easier to love,
It's easier to love,
It's easier to fake and smile and bribe
It's easier to leave,
It's easier to lie,
It's harder to face ourselves at night
Feeling alone,
What have we done?
What is the monster we've become?

Where is my soul? (Where is my?)
Where is my soul?

I have been waiting for sooooooooooooooooooooo long for someone to write a song with this message. I'm sure I'm not the only one tired of seeing sex treated like a product (so many other things are. Have we had enough yet?); like a drug. Unfortunately, there aren't many artists who are a) aware of the problem, b) ignoring the problem c) reveling in the problem or d) lacking the guts to raise a fuss about the problem. There are perhaps three bands that I know of who have managed to be both Christian and mainstream at the same time, and one of them has finally gotten up on the soapbox and airhorned this crucial truth to an oblivious populace. Unfortunately, this song did not turn into a hit single to get years' worth of radio time (not that anyone expected it to).
However, the point is that someone had the guts to tell people--quite baldly with all symbolism and subtlety aside--that SEX IS NOT A TOY.
Capisce?

Pause

2005-12-25T10:00:00.000-08:00

First and foremost:
MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL!!!

Our family just finished looting the tree, and I'm in a good mood; I got practically everything I wanted. However...
Isn't it ironic that one of the holiest times of the year can be the most sinful? We all know how much Christmas has become twisted by materialism, commercialism and Coca-Cola Santa Clauses. And therein, of course, lies the aforementioned sin. No matter how hard we try, it is difficult to concentrate on the true meaning of Christmas instead of the loot under the tree. But we must try.
**************
For hundreds of thousands of years, the human race slogged across the Earth. Wars were fought. Civilizations rose out of the debris, then collapsed into it again. Monarchs and commoners alike lived, loved, worked and played in a somewhat barbaric and dangerous world. Rome, Egypt, Babylon...all rose into the glorious limelight, but no matter how powerful or permanent they seemed, they were doomed to collapse, as were the people who populated them. Earth was dark. Not pitch black, but gray. Storm clouds always gathered on the horizon.
Then, one night 2005 years ago, something happened. A star broke through the darkness, and underneath it, a baby was sleeping. And to this single, poor, even somewhat wretched baby, kings and commoners alike came and bowed.
Funny, isn't it, that the birth of a child was enough to haul Earth out of the gray fog it had been living in for so long. But it was enough.
And that's what Christmas is really about.
Just to remind you.

Monkeys? What monkeys?

2005-12-22T21:10:00.000-08:00

So, chances are many of us have heard of the court ruling over in New Hampshire in which Judge Jones decidedly flogged any chances the Intelligent Design movement had over there, calling it an excuse to squeeze religion into public schools.
Really rather silly. If you think about it, ID is actually more than relgious propaganda. A-hem:
Intelligent Design says (as far as I'm aware) that evolution is not likely the way living things on earth formed, that instead of being a great big cosmic accident, a living intellect was behind...um...everything.
Somehow, this prospect doesn't sound much less likely than the idea that some great cosmic machine blew up and amidst all the muck infinitely complex life and structures came into existence--purely by accident. Isn't this basically what is being taught in public schools today? If so, ID has every right to be taught alongside evolution because it does have basis in scientific fact (as our knowedge of biology increases, we are finding more and more complex structures that just couldn't have formed from billions of years of slow, generation-by-genereation tweaking), and, frankly, because the typical Atheist's idea of creation, which often includes evolution, is pretty ridiculous itself.
However, that isn't really what this post is about.
As I follow the whole Evolution vs. Creationism smackdown, I begin to realize, more and more, how silly the whole thing is. This was perhaps driven home to me when I listened to a talk on chastity by Mary Beth Bonacci. In her talk, she mentioned a chemical the human body produces called oxytosin. It is produced primarily in two situations: sex and childbirth. What does it do? It weakens your reason, makes you more susceptible to suggestion (I think--don't quote me on that one) and, most importantly, builds a strong attachment in you to whomever you're with at the time. In other words, the feeling of love and attachment people feel for their spouses and children is (at least partially) manufactured by a hormone. And here was Mary Beth Bonacci, a devout Catholic, speaking of this phenomenon as scientific fact. Many die-hard Christians are inclined to get all bristly and defensive at the idea that human emotions are no more than chemical reactions, but not Ms. Bonacci. And that got me wondering: Why not?
Let's backtrack a bit. Evolution vs. Creationism basically equals Science vs. Religion, right? Well, I seem to recall reading the words of some wise guy like C.S. Lewis or G.K. Chesterton which basically said that religion and science need not conflict because they are two entirely different things. And they are. If you think about it, they both have distinct purposes. Science tells us how things happen (A mother's love for her child is partially produced by the hormone oxytosin), but relgion tells us why they happen (A mother loves her child so that she will want to stay with it, nurture it, and see that it becomes a good person). Or for another, more pertinent example: Humans came to exist through a slow process of natural selection and perfection, originally coming from monkeys (???), until they reached the form they have today (science). Humans were created by God to be His magnum opus; His highest creation, meant to love and serve Him and eventually live with Him forever (religion).
In other words: Why does it matter to us how we came to exist? The point is, we exist. Why does it matter how the mother comes to love her child? It doesn't, the point is, she does love him/her.
All this time, we've been fighting for no reason. Rather stupid, if you ask me. C'mon, people. Kumbayah and all that jazz. Gawsh...

Harry Potter and the blah blah blah

2005-12-20T21:00:00.000-08:00

First of all, I'd like to say: Christmas break started today! Arrrreeeba! (those "r"s must be rolled so they sound Spanish, by the way.)
Anyhoo...
Yesterday, my siblings and I got to musing on what possible titles J.K. Rowling may have lined up for the next (and last--*sniff*) Harry Potter book. We came up with some amusing ideas. At least, we found them amusing. You might not, owing to the fact that we get a rather deranged sense of humor when it's almost time to hit the hay.
Anyhoo, here are some:

Harry Potter and the Cursed Toenail of Icklebog*
Harry Potter and the Pillar of Storge*
Harry Potter Dies in the End!!
Harry Potter Dies while Defeating Lord Voldemort and Ron Marries Hermione and has Twelve Kids and Sends Them Off to College and Eventually Falls into Credit Card Debt Until Harry Returns From the Grave since he was Actually Hiding in Scandinavia and Slaps Some Sense into him!!
Harry Potter and the Blazing Iranian Bumblebee
Harry Potter: Jurassic Classic
Harry Potter: Culture Vulture
Harry Potter: The Real Scoop (by Rita Skeeter, a.k.a. irate beetle--err, irate Skeeter--uum, Rita Irate--oh, whatever--for the Daily Prophet)
Harry Potter meets the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles meet Harry Potter

That is but a sampling of what we were coming up with (in fact, some of those I came up with myself more recently. And the two marked with an asterisk are based on real crock titles other people came up with).
G'night, all.

Snow...or something like it

2005-12-15T17:36:00.000-08:00

For pretty much the entirety of the day, evreything outdoors was covered in ice. Yipee. And then, a little before school's out, several of us observe small, rather grainy snowflakes falling from the heavens. Not expecting them to stick, I sighed a resigned sigh and wandered into the hall to gather up books and other assorted paraphernalia (great word, that. Assuming I'm even spelling/using it correctly).
I peek outside a few moments later to discover that the snow is not only sticking, but that the parking lot has become a veritable ice rink. Schweet!
And so I wasted about 10 minutes sliding and screeching around in a rather haphazard way along with a dozen other people. Narrowly (well, not really) evading disaster at the hands of...well...ice. Panting like a St. Bernard as I proceed in and out of the school. Never (thankfully) getting the idea of licking the flagpole. And feeling my fingers burn up as I sit in a toasty car.
Fun schtuff.

Aaahl be baahck...

2005-12-10T21:07:00.000-08:00

So...after much bumbling and procrastination, I managed to get Chapter 1 of my below-mentioned story up. For those of you who are curious, it can be read here.
And in case you're wondering, I did indeed steal Green Flash's idea. "Contract hits" sounded appropriately evil to me.

The Mall of Rome

2005-11-22T18:00:00.000-08:00

We arrived at our grandparents' house in Kirkland (a nice little city right by Bellevue and Seattle--I've probably told you that before) for Thanksgiving. We took a few hours today to wander about Bellevue Square Mall. It was fun, but something that really struck me--and I don't know why it did this time; I must have been to the Square several dozen times in my life--was how incredibly rich and luxurious the place was. It's a really nice place and pleasant to wander about, but even so, its sheer opulence freaked me out a bit.
We've been studying ancient Rome in History class, and the subject has come up a couple of times of how much America resembles ancient Rome. We have conquered a massive chunk of land, we have a huge population, we are very rich and are overall one of the most (if not the most) powerful countries in the world. Well, we all know what happened to Rome, don't we?
It fell. Collapsed. Crashed 'n' burned. Went down in flames. And all that jazz. And wandering in a place like Bellevue Square, which is (one of) the epitome(s) of American wealth, opulence and, yes, decadence, one can't help wondering when the Great American Empire will fall.
An optimistic thought for your holiday weekend. I'm really not trying to be all gloom and doom, but that's how it is. Cheers. And a happy Thanksgiving to y'all.

Let's hear it for long weekends!

2005-11-13T19:05:00.000-08:00

I don't know if I've ever had a weekend quite like this before. It was purty durn awesome. I'm sure a large part of it was having my gloriously "different" (as he would put it. He may also use "crazy") friend Randy over at my house for pretty much all of it. Among other things, he taught me how to do a (good) handstand--and I may eventually also learn to do a handspring from his tutelage--, he introduced me to the band Acceptance, which he is wild about, and he accompanied our family and several friends to a performance of Gaslight Girl, a very funny and random "melodrama".
And it's kind of weird. I've always heard about those "very very best friends" to whom a person can open up to and tell everyyyyyyyyyyythiiiing. But I've never really felt like I had one. Of course, I've had lots of friends, but I've never "spilled my guts", so to speak, to anyone else my age. That was until Wednesday night, when, for some reason, we stayed up talking about half a ton of stuff, from girls to bizarre dreams.
Overall, the weekend, especially that talking Wednesday night, seemed especially well summed up by part of the synopsis of a movie called Mindtrip, which went something like this:

You just start talking, and before you know it, it's one o' clock in the morning; the train/bus/plane has come and gone; the last waiter is about to leave is shooing you out: You've taken a Mindtrip, and you're a different person than you were before.

Yeah. Weird, long, but very fun weekend.

Another thing to forget to remember

2005-11-06T17:27:00.000-08:00

I've always enjoyed making up stories, but many of them stay in my head because I can never write them. There are about 4 exceptions, two of which I have "published" (in the loosest sense of the word) on this snazzy site (look for me in the author directory--my name is "wallywuzhere", of all things).
Anyhoo, I recently came up with a spiffing idea for another story that I hopefully will take the time to actually write.
It's sort of a political dystopia sort of story, fairly brief, kind of the same type of story that people like George Orwell and Kurt Vonnegut liked to write. Probably not quite as intelligent or bitingly witty and ironic, though. Ah well.
It occured to me one day how truly ridiculous it is that abortion is legal. It is basically allowing one person to kill another simply because they are inconvenient. And then that got me thinking--what if we were allowed to have people (other than unborn babies) legally murdered simply because they are inconvenient? That's basically my premise.
Now I just have to remember to write the thing. Dang it.

Wohba

2005-11-05T15:15:00.000-08:00

Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuude!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I just realized! This blog just had its one year anniversary! Waui Zaui!

Anyhoo, just wanted to share that. Hopefully I'll get back here with something more serious later today or tomorrow.

You may notice...

2005-10-23T18:54:00.000-07:00

...that there is template tinkering in progress.
Just fo yo infomation.

Poodle dreams and stranger things

2005-10-22T10:35:00.000-07:00

So, I'm hurrying to get into school on time on Wednesday a few weeks ago, when I get stopped by (I find out later) Mrs. Campbell--the Mrs. Campbell, mwa-ha-ha--and she tells me that I knocked her socks off in Beauty and the Beast; she'd been thinking, all this time, that I was a quiet, unassuming kid, and now that she's seen my hyper side, would I please, pretty please be the Jaguar--the school mascot--for the Homecoming game?
Sa'what?
I tell her, as evasively as I can, that I'll think about it, then sprint off to Algebra with all the grace and composure of an irate rhino. Fortunately, I make it on time.
Mrs. Campbell wants me to dress up in the Jag costume and go gallumphing around cheering on the football team? No stinkin' way! I think to myself. I've seen the poor guy at Chuck 'E' Cheese's who dresses up in that horrid costume, and no way Jose am I doing the same thing.
I think about it for the next week and a half or so, my resolution to not do it slipping, unbelievably, away. Hey, I think, it might be kinda fun, actually. Mrs. Campbell calls me on Wednesday and, oh horror of horrors, I comply. I'll do the Homecoming game, and, in addition (as a bit of a warm up, to get used to the costume) I also agree to jump around a bit at the pep rally the preceeding Thursday.
So, that's how, on Thursday, I came to be gallumphing around in the background, air-guitar jamming to We Will Rock You as my dad, dressed up as what's-his-face from Queen, along with several other members of the faculty, does the same thing.
And then yesterday I found myself in front of the bleachers, jumping around, giving people high-fives, waving at little kids, doing the whole "Oooooooooooooh......First down!!" schtick (once in the wrong direction...how mortifying!), and getting a sore spine from leaning back so I can see properly out of the Jag mask. Funfunfun.
And to think, if I do this whole mascot thing long enough, I could actually wind up with a letter! Imagine that, James Powers, the quintessential non-athlete, getting a letter! Haw haw haw!! I don't think I'll go for that, though. It would mess up my carefully cultivated image.
And tonight I'm going to the actual homecoming dance. Dunno whether to laugh or groan at that. It could be a blast, it could be a hoot, it could be a horror...I dunno.
Excuse me while I go be rebellious by not wearing a suit to the so-called "semi"-formal dance *snort*.

Contemplating moozik again

2005-10-18T19:42:00.000-07:00

Even though my dad wouldn't agree, I find U2's Zooropa to be a righteously righteous album. Even though the techno/pop sound of the album strays off the track of their typical, Joshua Tree-esque style, there are some darned cool songs on it. And one that is downright creepy. I speak of Daddy's Gonna Pay For Your Crashed Car, whose lyrics are below:

You're a precious stone - you're out on your own
You know everyone in the world, but you feel alone
Daddy won't let you weep - daddy won't let you ache
Daddy gives you as much as you can take
A-ha, sha-la - A-ha, sha-la
Daddy's gonna pay for your crashed car
A little uptight - you're a baby's fist
Butterfly kisses up and down your wrist
When you see daddy coming you're licking your lip
Nails bitten down to the quick
A-ha, sha-la - A-ha, sha-la
Daddy's gonna pay for your crashed car
Daddy's gonna pay for your crashed car

You've got a head full of traffic - you're a siren's song
You cry for mama, and daddy's right along
he gives you the keys to a flaming car
Daddy's with you wherever you are
Daddy's a comfort - daddy's your best friend
Daddy'll hold your hand right up to the end
A-ha, sha-la - A-ha, sha-la
Daddy's gonna pay for your crashed car
Daddy's gonna pay for your crashed car

Sunday Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday Saturday's alright
Sunday Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday Saturday's alright

Now, you can only get a taste of what the song is about from the lyrics, for, as we know, there is also the music to consider. Some of the blokes on SongMeanings.net--a cool site if ever there was one, even if it is cripplingly slow--speculated that the song was about God, taking a battered, broken soul in for redemption. It makes me wonder if the people who said that have actually heard the song, as the music is far too sinister sounding for that to be true. As one user on SongMeanings said:

There is no way this song is about God. Read the lyrics. Does this sound like any God you know?

This song is about the DEVIL. This is the evilest song on Zooropa. It comes right after Stay for a reason. When you are down on your luck and depressed, who's there to comfort you? Satan. This is definitely what the song is about. I read that when Bono performed this song on tour, he always wore his MacPhisto getup.

Read C.S. Lewis' 'The Screwtape Letters'.

This is my take on the song, as well. Of course, that is, probably, the meaning of the song as Bono intended it, and a rather general one. I've been thinking, though:
Is there a "Daddy" that is physically present in today's world? Sure, there are lots, but I'm thinking of one in particular. Who is it that takes in the poor, tired souls who have lost their innocence and are wondering what to do, takes them in with the lie that they do care and that they can make it better, when their real intentions are far different? Hmmm...
Couldn't possibly be these guys, could it?

God and Dave Matthews

2005-10-09T12:42:00.000-07:00

My dad has been a Dave Matthews Band fan almost since they were started, so, consequently, I have grown up listening to their music, and, consequently, they have become one of my favorite groups, if not just favorite, period. Their music is just bursting at the seams with beauty, complexity, and poetry that seems sorely lacking in most other music.
It's funny, how by listening to an artist's music, you can get a glimpse into their personal life. Dave Matthews's music, as well as his personality, seems oddly two-sided. On one side we seem to have the drugs, sex, rock'n'roll and who-cares-about-God-or-the-consequences type of attitude, coupled with stubborn Atheism; a mindset very prevalent in pop culture.
However, we also see a side that regrets this behavior, and wishes for redemption. Listening to Dave Matthews's music, I have basically been hearing him trying to decide whether he believes in God or not. Some of his songs have very obvious anti-God lines, for example:
"Hoping to God on high is like clinging to straws while drowning" from the song What You Are.
"There's no God above and no Hell below" from Mother Father.
Incidentally, both of the songs quoted above are from the same album, Everyday.
But then, as we hear this obvious Atheism in those songs and that album (and in others, I'm sure), we also sometimes hear a belief in God, a belief that often takes on a hopeful tone (as opposed to the throughly pessimistic sound of his Atheist lines, hint, hint).
A beautiful example of this is the song Bartender, from the album Busted Stuff. Bartender has two parts to it.
One, the man in the song is asking the people in his life to not forget him if he dies "before his time." For example:

If I go
Before I'm old
Oh, brother of mine
Please don't forget me
If I go...

Two, the man is asks:

Bartender, please
Fill my glass for me
With the wine you gave Jesus that set Him free
After three days in the ground...

Who do you suppose the Bartender is?
Dave is imploring God to have mercy on him, and to grant him a ressurection like Jesus's. All throughout the song is the theme of death, redemption, and resurrection. The music matches as well, with an ethereal sound that suggests (to me) standing at the end of the tunnel, gazing at the light on the other end, and hoping to reach the light.
And all through Dave's music, you hear unnatural beauty and complexity like that of Bartender, and you can't help but realize that God is with Dave, whether Dave realizes (or wants) it or not.

gripe time

2005-10-01T12:48:00.000-07:00

Gaaaahhh....it's a Saturday...and I'm grouchy, tired, stressed, and confused. Saturdays shouldn't be like this, especially after a week like that. At least I slept in today. I wonder what life would be like had I gotten up an hour earlier.
Praying for the afternoon to be better than the morning. Blagh.

Elephant

2005-09-23T18:46:00.000-07:00

Last Saturday, the older members of our family watched Gus van Sant's film, Elephant. Monica (my sister) is in a play about a school shooting, and her director suggested that she see Elephant, as it deals with the same touchy subject.
The movie was, in a word, disturbing.
I don't just mean gory-images-that-keep-you-up-at-night disturbing. I mean disturbing. It really rattled me. Of course, now, a week later, I've sort of lost that sense, but it was there.
The amazing thing about Elephant is that it's so real. It takes place at a high school, and we watch various characters, students within the school, going about their daily business. But as I was watching it, I realized that what I was watching (which, by the way, was totally without plot, like a regular day) was real. The students walked, talked, acted, spoke, and swore like real high school students. And their experiences throughout much of the day, while mundane (for a few hours) were still fascinating. For example:
A student ducks into a lounge of some sort and cries some brief tears of frustration after having been given detention again after being driven to school late by a drunken father.
Another student wanders about campus, snapping photos of fellow students he comes across, and later moseys into a darkroom to develop them.
Three girls go to lunch together, chatting and gossiping. They get into an argument, but quickly recover. After having had perhaps three bites of salad apiece, they leave the cafeteria, and head for the bathrooms. Still chatting, as if they were all just going to get their hair done together, they step into the stalls and make themselves throw up.
So go the first few hours of the day (van Sant messes with time on us, showing us this day as well as the end of the previous one, from varying perspectives), perfectly normally. Then, Eric and Alex arrive.
After they arrive, the mood of quiet fascination with which you've been watching this totally normal and inoffensive day changes, descending into vague panic. Because you've seen these two guys before, this morning and in the previous evening, and you know what's "going down", as one of them says.
You're still panicky as you watch them gearing up in a hallway, which is totally empty except for a seemingly oblivious janitor at the end of it. They then proceed into the library, and the first shot is fired, and the first victim slumps at the foot of the bookcase. From there, all normalcy of the day (and the movie) is lost, and it descends further into the unreal, dreamlike horror of a nightmare. Eric and Alex proceed up and down the halls, literally shooting anything that moves, their faces totally expressionless. They kill without reason, discrimination, or mercy. No one makes a move to stop them, and soon, the halls are littered with bodies.
It is really strange, though, as van Sant doesn't show us much reason for Eric and Alex to behave as they do. We see one of them get splattered, deliberately, by another student with some substance during science class. We see one of them playing a violent video game. We see that they are a gay couple, something they've probably endured some abuse about. But nothing concrete, nothing so terrible that it would have pushed them over the edge.
As my mom asked, how is it possible for people to become such hardened sociopaths at such a young age? They show absolutely no hint of remorse as they shoot anybody, not just people who abused them. And from what I've heard, that was what Columbine was like.
Some frightening factoids go with this subject:

Violent video games, such as Doom, use the same sorts of tactics as used in the Army to desensitize soldiers to killing real people.
Michael Carneal (a shooter in a real school shooting) was said to have been an Atheist, or to have at least associated with them (in the play my sister's in, Give a Boy a Gun, one of the shooters, Brendan, vehemently denies the existence of God).
Every two hours, a teenager commits suicide in the U.S.

As the film's synopsis says:

Elephant shows high school life as a complex landscape where the vitality and incandescent beauty of young lives can shift from light to darkness with surreal speed.

It is, truly, surreal. And it does beg the question, why? Why is it that seemingly (or not) normal young men and women suddenly take the plunge, for no apparent reason, into pure evil? For that is what the shooting in Elephant is. Sheer, cold, unloving, unthinking, uncaring evil.
Why?
For our sakes, and for teen's sakes, let's answer that question. For this sort of thing can happen anywhere, at any time. In fact, it did happen in a town not to far from my own, a small one, at that, and that's what scares me. Evil does not care; it will consume whoever's handy. Let's put up them rods, before the lightning strikes again.

Hooray for Friday

2005-09-09T17:29:00.000-07:00

The second full week (sans Monday) of frosh-hood over at high school has passed quickly and fairly *cough* uneventfully--for me. Not so for dad, who had to put up with a gobsmackingly bad day this week that I know few details about. All I know is that one of the students down at school (dad teaches at the place--and no one knows who this kid is) committed some as-yet undescribed atrocity against my dad in comfortable anonymity. As we were leaving today, we noticed some shattered glass had been placed conveniently under our car's rear tire. Suspicious.
Anyhoo, aside from that, and the flooding of our basement, which I will leave to padre to describe,--as he has already done so pretty effectively--not much happened.
However, that doesn't mean I don't have a rant coming.
An irony that I observed both at my Catholic grade school and here at Catholic high school is that many of the kids are totally and comfortably oblivious of their faith and its meaning. I realize that was a disgracefully sweeping, judgemental statement to make, so lemme rephrase: it seems that many of the Catholic school kids are as far from Catholic as any others. I could always be wrong, but the evidence suggests it.
For example, I've overheard a couple of my fellow freshmen mispronouncing the word "Catholicism". Granted, that's no "Dick, Jane, and Spot" type of a word, but still. Come on, people!
Another example: Every Friday, everybody comes to school dressed up and we have Mass in the gym. We have Mass at the time we regularly have a twenty-minute or so break; a snack break for many people (even by 11 A.M.--roughly the time we have Mass--you can get pretty hungry). However, since you are not supposed to eat anything one hour before receiving Communion, snacking in the brief break before Mass is strongly disadvised. If you forget, though, and end up eating something absent-mindedly beforehand, you may pass up on Communion.
So here's what happens: A couple of starving classmates grab something munchy last Friday before Mass. When another student reminds them they shouldn't eat, the response is: "I don't care, I just won't have Communion."
Do I see a priority problem here?
Granted, an empty stomach is a powerful force, but it is obvious that these guys don't at all appreciate or understand what Communion is.
Religion class is the most noisy and disordered one we have. Another thing that seriously bugs me.
F-bombs are dropped regularly by the students. Not that that surprises me, it happened in 6th grade, too.
Of course, school is by no means a cesspool of depravity, or anything like that. It is run by very skilled, caring, well-meaning people who know their faith and what they're doing with it. And not all the students are clueless, by any means. There are many who do care. But there are many who don't either, and that's what gets me.
Enough rant.

Oy vey

2005-09-05T20:44:00.000-07:00

It has been quite a week.
I have heard that Hurricane Katrina was the worst national disaster to happen in our country since the San Francisco earthquake in 1906, possibly worse. And I can't say I disagree. For the past week, the news has sounded like excerpts from Left Behind or The Day After Tomorrow.
We all know, however, that the hurricane itself wasn't the remarkable thing, but its aftermath. New Orleans is no longer a functioning city. How often does that happen? How often does a city's law and order, it's people, even its buildings, go completely down the tubes?
It's the sort of thing you usually only see in movies.
An entire residential neighborhood covered in water, only the tops of the houses and trees poking into the air. A few days ago, there were people on those rooftops, waving their arms and shouting hysterically to get the attention of anyone who can get them out of a dead house; a dead city.
A Wal-Mart with its windows smashed and automatic doors gaping open, maybe forced open with a crowbar. Out of one set of doors comes a haggard, unshaven, dirty man, with perhaps a cart of bottled water and canned or dehydrated food, running back to a family crouching amidst sopping, oil-slicked wreckage. Out of another set of doors comes another man, but he has an iPod stuffed in one pocket, a CD player in another, and is hefting along a TV in his arms.
An alley with filthy water sloshing around ankle deep, in which a pair of looters beat a man to death for something he has in his pockets.
Abruptly and for no apparent reason, an entire side of a warehouse explodes.
These sorts of things have become everyday events for Big Easy, and perhaps in other nearby towns, as well. The interesting things about times of difficulty, though, is how they bring out the best in some and the worst in others.
Worst: As a helicopter descends to drop much-needed supplies, a group of hooligans/looters/other opens fire on the helicopter for, as far as I can tell, no reason.
Best: A twenty-year old finds a school bus with keys miraculously still in the ignition. He drives over to the Superdome, packs it as full of refugees as he can, and drives 500 miles to Houston.
And then, of course, there are the people who perhaps aren't especially good or bad, but are at least keeping the real bad guys at bay:

In a situation like this, what's a person on the opposite side of the country to do? Yes, you could donate money, blood, or supplies. People across the nation have done this, to the very great benefit of Southern citizens. But many of us, even after donating, perhaps have a feeling of guilt at our uselessness.
That is where prayer comes in.

Death and depravity lurks in local theater. Eek!

2005-08-21T14:51:00.000-07:00

Last night (Saturday, August 20, in case you were wondering), I moseyed on over to CBC to see a performance of the musical version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (yes, such a thing does exist), in the orchestra for which my mom was playing violin.

Duuuude--I'm sooo getting this poster for my room!

Anyhoo, as shows go it was fair. The performances were excellent (especially, of course, that of the poor guy who had to play both Jekyll and Hyde). Of course, as I find I often do, I had beefs with the written show, not the performance itself. One would expect the songs of a musical to be its highlights--rarely was that the case here. I would be watching the show, enjoying it, and then a song would fire up and I couldn't help but be like "Ah, man. Another song to sit through" (the solos were especially annoying that way). There were exceptions, of course, but I'd say about half the music could have been chopped out; it often seemed to just get in the way of the plot. Not, once again, that the songs were badly performed, but they were often just boring by nature.

Anyway, that's not what I'm really wanting to post about here. I'll just wrap up my critique by saying this: if this show comes along in your area, it's probably worth seeing, but be prepared for boring bits.

Many of us are familiar with the story of Jekyll and Hyde. It appears to be simply another mad scientist story. But if you think about it, the story is actually quite creepy because, in a sense, it's true. Or it could be. Robert Louis Stevenson's idea was that all people are made of two halves: the good side and the evil side, and both these sides are constantly warring for dominance. Most of the time, the good side of us manages to keep control; we are, essentially, good people. But there are many times in the day when the Hyde in us will break out, just for a moment or two, cause some damage, then slither back under the surface.

You could think of it as a definition of sin. Every sin we commit is a small victory for Hyde; a small hole he manages to punch in our shell of general goodness. The story of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is speculation about how it would be if Hyde got out--and stayed out.
The Jekyll in us is control, conscience, desire to do good for ourselves and others. Hyde, on the other hand, is the polar opposite: an uncontrolled, uncaring animal that doesn't give a rip for anything but personal pleasure/gain. It has been said that sociopaths, like Jeffrey Dahmer, have no conscience. They no longer care about anything other than satisfying base desires and morbid obsessions. This is why Jeffrey Dahmer enjoyed luring, raping, murdering and mutilating his numerous victims. The Jekyll in him had been defeated, and Hyde was victorious.

Most of us don't let Hyde get extensive control over every aspect of our lives. Some do, however, allow him to control parts. For example, a sixteen-year-old boy keeps Hyde in check at home and at school--mostly--but then, on that party on Friday night, he turns Hyde loose, fills himself up with beer, goes roaring down the street at one in the morning, and then ends up under a pile of smoking rubble. Hyde kills.
The average Joe, however, probably tries to always keep Hyde under control. There are times, though, like I said, when he'll be allowed out for a moment at a time. Sometimes, these brief releases become more common, and Hyde is let out more and more often--oh, but just for a minute or so. But even if it's only for a moment or so, the more often we let Hyde out, the more powerful he becomes, bit by bit, like those small snakes that can slowly stretch their jaws over an ostrich egg and swallow it. Hyde is patient, he is cunning, he will slowly spread his jaws over you if you let him. He doesn't care how long it takes, so long as he gets you, eventually.

Let's not let that happen.

Space Post, part 2

2005-08-03T14:56:00.000-07:00

Edit: In one part of this letter, the somewhat-ignorant Kuymrg incorrectly described one of the procedures for surgical abortion. The required edits have been made.
-J.P.
Here, the letter from Most Observant Kuymrg is continued:
2:
Something that would be almost amusing if it wasn't having such serious consequences would be the Humans' curious obsession with their reproductive organs and their functions. This obsession is largely caused by the Media, once again. All over it, in its Advertisements, Shows, Books, Music, and everything else, there is an obsession with stimulating these organs in any way possible. I can only assume they do this because feelings accompanying the sexual act are so pleasant. But paradoxically, the Humans want to use their reproductive organs for practically everything except for their intended purpose: bearing children. They seem to be laboring under the misconception that this part of their bodies, this part of their very being, is meant solely for pleasure, and they take this misconception terribly far, going to ridiculous lengths to have the pleasure without its intended result: children. Devices called Contraceptives are incredibly popular. Contraceptives are used to keep children from being conceived during (or after) the sexual act. These can be as simple as a sheath of rubber that the male places over his organs to prevent the transfer of sperm, to poisons that kill the male's sperm, to poisons that kill newly conceived fetuses, which are taken orally by the would-be mother. How idiotic! The mother ingests poison to kill her would-be child, not only comitting murder, but, obviously, putting herself at considerable risk.
And if you think this is insanity, the Humans have invented something worse. If all previous attempts at preventing conception have failed, there is a last resort, a surgical procedure called Abortion. Basically, the mother will go to a Doctor, who is, ironically, an official meant to preserve the health and well being of his fellow Humans. She will ask the doctor to perform an Abortion on her and thus kill her baby (if he is qualified to do so), supposedly ridding her of her problems.
Different procedures are used to kill the baby in the mother's womb, depending on how old it is. If it is barely gaining the features that make it distinctively Human (in other words, only a few months old), the Doctor will inject salt into the Mother's uterus, salt in such a highly concentrated form that it is poison. Naturally, the baby will ingest the salt. Shortly after, it will go into violent spasms, and then die. The woman will then go into labor and deliver a miniature corpse. If, however, the baby is older, more gruesome procedures are used. For example, the doctor will actually stick a pair of razor-sharp scissors into the female's uterus. He will impale the infant's head with the closed scissors, then open the scissors, along with the baby's head.
Or, if he is feeling particularly creative, he will use a procedure known as vacuum aspiration. This is done with a Human machine called a vacuum, which rapidly sucks air up through a tube and is used to clean, as it sucks up material along with the air. In a vacuum aspiration procedure, however, the tube is inserted into the female's uterus, and the vaccuum is activated. The infant is sucked towards the vacuum tube and through it into a ready receptacle, then disposed of. One can only imagine the effects being sucked through a thin tube can have on a tiny human body. And after the procedure, any remaining parts of the baby's body (though it is often euphemistically referred to as "uterine tissue") are scraped out with a small knife called a curette.
After an Abortion, the woman herself suffers greatly. Obviously, after having had either poison or numerous sharp objects stuck into her, she often develops infections in her uterus or other reproductive organs. Sometimes these infections, or other complications, will lead to her being unable to ever bear children, should she decide she wants to. In some cases, she will die.She will also likely suffer emotionally. Often, women who have had Abortions suffer terrible guilt. The reasons for this are obvious. This guilt may lead to depression or other emotional havoc, and the feelings of guilt or depression may remain with her all her life. However, the feelings won't last too long if she kills herself. And that does happen.
Amazingly, Abortion is a very common practice, and is provided to human females across the planet. The Humans who are foolish enough to support Abortion put up a brilliant facade, making Abortion look like an act of compassion.How can it possibly look compassionate? I'll explain:
As I explained earlier, the Media, and therefore the Humans, are obsessed with sex. Because of this, promiscuity is a common practice. Rarer and rarer is becoming the practice of the Human equivalent of our own Esyr, which they call Marriage. The Humans, afraid of the commitments that come with Marriage, instead vouch to experiment with various fellow Humans who they find attractive. This is, and always was, a common practice with the younger Humans who were trying to familiarize themselves with love and sexuality, and in itself it isn't contrary to Maleldil's laws, (provided the young ones refrain from entering into sexual acts and keep these early relationships chaste). But nowadays, the Humans not only experiment with relationships with members of the opposite sex, but actually enter into the sexual act with these people (without being joined in Marriage), often with many. Sometimes, they will do this when already Married to another, behind their spouse's back! This is gravely contrary to Maleldil's law which states that the sexual act is to be reserved for the perfect love to be found between a male and female joined in Esyr.
The supporters of Abortion have also wormed their way into the young Humans' places of education. Here, they teach the young Humans that the extreme promiscuity being practiced by their fellows is harmless, even (one knows not whether to laugh or shudder at this) that it is healthy. What absurdity! Of course, now that the young Humans have been brainwashed with these idiotic ideas, and since their sexual impulses are begining to develop and are exceptionally strong, they often don't hesitate to enter into the sexual act with each other. Of course, they have been taught to practice the laughably titled "safe sex", which is simply the use of the aforementioned Contraceptives to prevent the conception of a child. However, it is only natural that these contraceptives should fail from time to time (often, in fact).
When the young female Human ends up conceiving a child, she is often in a very difficult situation. For one thing, her mother and father did not likely approve of her having sexual relations at such a young age, and so she almost certainly did it behind their backs. Of course, now that she is pregnant, they will almost certianly find out what she did, and consequences will follow. Even if her parents don't care whether she had sexual relations or not, she still has numerous other problems. For example: How can she finish her educational needs if she is to raise a child (those who support Abortion often leave out the simple fact that upon the child's birth it can just be put up for adoption, a practice in which children without parents are taken in to be raised by others)? Also, if she is exceptionally young, giving birth to a child can be dangerous (rarely, however, as dangerous as having an Abortion--another fact often ignored). Throw in the pressure she is likely receiving from peers and adults to have an abortion, and it seems like her only option. Since this situation makes an Abortion look like the only way out (it isn't), the Abortion supporters can easily make Abortion look like an act of mercy.
So each year, thousands of Human women and girls are tricked every day into risking their health, even their lives, not to mention murdering their children, by having Abortions. Every twenty-three seconds, in fact, the procedure occurs in the U.S.--an abbreviated name for one of Earth's more powerful nations--alone.
Of course, along with this catastrophe of barbaric idiocy, the Humans are paying another price for their so-called "sexual freedom" (as you have seen, Most Honorable Xylylnahn, it is enslaving them more than liberating them): Fairly recently in Human history, a virus has emerged from some place in the Earth. It's origin is, I believe, unknown, but it is having the most devastating effect on the Humans. This virus, known by the Humans as HIV, or AIDS, causes the human immune system to become unusually weak, so that the Human infected with it cannot risk becoming infected with what would otherwise be a fairly harmless disease, one that one could normally be recovered from within days. When a human is infected with AIDS, such a seemingly harmless affliction could spell death. The interesting thing about this virus is that it is not spread terribly easily. It is not airborne, it is not transferred by touch, or even by saliva (while many of the most common ones are). It is transmitted by the exchange of bodily fluids such as blood or semen. So, having sexual relations with a person infected with AIDS could lead to your own infection with the disease. Since Humans all over the vast planet have been taught to accept and practice promiscuity with numerous fellow Humans, the HIV virus is spreading like wildfire. And yet they continue to practice their "sexual freedom", and do so with gusto, even though it could kill them.
This isn't all. Even if the Human has no partner with which to do the sexual act (lawfully or not), there is another atrocity in which they can participate. There is a sort of low-life art form peddled by many Humans for the arousal of others. It is called Pornography, or just Porn for short. Pornography is a recorded medium (usually Video, from which Movies are made, or Photography, which is something like Video except that a single, frozen image is recorded and preserved instead of many together), and this medium will show Humans doing all sorts of strange, perverted sexual acts, from the basic sexual act to removing their clothes and exposing their naked bodies in full view, to other things I can't even describe, for anyone to see. Using Pornography, Humans can stimulate in themselves unlawful desires and pleasures (reserved, once again, for their proper place, Esyr) to ludicrous degrees. Pornography exists in enormous quantities, but it is usually hidden from public view. It is not, however, hidden so carefully that one can't easily find it if one is looking for it, in fact, it is possible to find it even if one isn't looking for it. Because of this (and also because of the fact that Pornography is perfectly legal in many nations), thousands of Humans (usually males, since for some reason their sexual drive is stronger than that of females) are addicted to this twisted medium.
And the Humans' grand legacy continues...

SpongeBob trying to warn us?

2005-08-01T14:24:00.000-07:00

A few days ago, over on the Oregon Coast in the small but snazzy little "cottage" we were staying in, the chilluns were watching SpongeBob on the generously supplied satellite T.V. (it was actually pretty irritating. About 10% of the channels could actually be watched, everything else was either Pay Per View or "you have not yet subscribed to this channel". Grrr...anyhoo...)
This particular episode was about the miserly Mr Krabs trying to seduce the children of Bikini Bottom into buying more Krabby Patties, by saying things like "When yer all done playin' why doncha all come inside for a delicious, nutritious, vitamin enriched Krabby Patty! Ararararar!"
and by having SpongeBob abuse himself to amuse the kiddies.
From the kitchen in which we were lurking, my sister and I could see snippets of the disturbing episode, and she made a frightening point. I paraphrase:
"This episode is showing how evil advertising to kids can be, and then right after this episode is over, Nickelodeon's gonna bombard us with commercials for Chef Boyardee and Froot Loops."
Scary.

Space post, coast to coast

2005-07-21T13:33:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, as I was milling around outside this very library (the one I'm writing this in), I heard the oddest...sizzling sound, coming from above. Before I had time to even look up to see what the sound was coming from, a small, cylindrical object about the size of one of those tennis ball containers plunged from the sky and into the asphalt, barely missing my head. Eventually, the smoke from the landing cleared, and, after getting my fingies singed a few times, I managed to pry the object out of its crater.
I found it was a hollow cylinder, and it had a lid which could be screwed off. I removed the lid, and found inside some papers, written in English, which appeared to be letters. But the names mentioned in the letter were very strange, and the fact remained that this thing had come from the sky. As I read the letters, I realized something: Along with having narrowly escaped an interstellar braining, I had stumbled upon what appeared to be a piece of space mail! Rock on!
Below is part of the (long) letter:

1
To the most honorable Xylylnahn;

I, the Observant Kuymrg, am writing this letter to you as part of the required
summary concerning my observations of the Planet Tholcandren, known to its
natives as "Earth."
The dominant species of Tholcandren, known among
themselves, and now by ourselves, as Humans, is what this letter will be mainly
concerning.

Humans are an intriguing species. They are exceptionally intelligent, indeed, I
would guess that they are only about a few centuries, no more than a single
millenium, behind us in technology. It is only a matter of time before they will
be able to travel the heavens with the same speed and efficiency as us. They do,
in fact, have means with which to travel through space, but only extremely
primitive ones. They haven't been able to transport themselves to their nearest
neighbor, Malcandren, yet (they have, however, transported machines meant for
study to this planet, and to many others within their vicinity). They have
colonized practically all of their planet, they can even be found (if only
sparsely) in its least hospitable areas.

However, for all their intelligence, they seem to lack something else
fundamentally important. They have a great deal of smarts, but are sorely
lacking in something infinitely more important: wisdom. I have seen a great many
absurdities that they practice commonly, some so ridiculous one can hardly
believe that they are intelligent as they are.

They have, of their own accord, split themselves up into seperate empires,
instead of living peacefully together, without dividing themselves. Naturally,
this division leads to conflict, and a lot of it. These conflicts occur for
numerous reasons, and many times they will be started by one person who does
something extraordinarily disagreeable, and therefore, other nations are pressed
to resist this person, and from there everything escalates into conflict in which many
Humans lose their lives. Currently, things are especially chaotic in this
respect (and in many others).

Each of these nations is ruled seperately, and, strangely, all of them are ruled
by their own kind, Humans. An incredibly dangerous way to go about things. As a
result of this, the Humans have gotten themselves into more messes than can be
counted. How they can expect a flawed, imperfect person like themselves to lead
a nation to prefection I have no idea. A large part of their problem stems from
the fact that many of their leaders have long since given up the practice of
turning to Maleldil for assitance, in fact, they, and many of their fellow
humans, have refused to believe in His existence altogether, flatly defying
simple logic, because the existence of Maleldil and His Laws barr the way in
what seems to be the Humans' primary pursuit:

Pleasure. They seem consistently seek only their own pleasure. Whether these
pleasures be excessively luxurious lives, the escape of unfortunate realities,
or perhaps involving themselves with multiple members of the opposite sex, the
Humans often pursue, first and foremost, the enigmatic, perfect Pleasure, which,
many fail to realize, can only come from Maleldil.

Anyway...

While the Humans maintain the appearance of being
ruled by certain groups of their fellows, put together and called "government",
their real rules--or, in any case, the ones more faithfully followed--come from
a seemingly omnipresent influence known simply as "pop culture". Pop culture is
made up primarily of an organization known as the Media. The Media came about
when Humans progressed to the point where they were no longer constantly
fighting to survive; they had leisure time. To fill this leisure time, they
invented ways to entertain themselves. The earliest form of this entertainment
came about in the forms of simple games, many of which are popular still today
with them and have little to do with either pop culture or the Media. The next
form of entertainment to take shape were things known as Books (rather similar
to our own Kadshyna), which were many slips of paper on which were written
words, which, in turn, would come together to tell a story, or make a point, or
something of the kind (like this very letter). These slips of paper would be
arranged in such a way as to make up a comprehensible order, and were bound in a
case of leather. Through books, opinions were widely expressed, and they most
definitely influence the Humans. Books are most definitely part of the Media.

Another part of the media is Music, which is the Human word for the Art of
Maleldil. For the longest time, Music was used the way we use it, to simply
convey emotion and beauty with simple sound. The Humans used their own voices as
instruments to add to this music, and, eventually, they began to put words to
their music. This form of spoken music is very prevalent and influential in the
Media, and the artists who make it have an enormous amount of influence (more on
this later), despite the fact that much of the words spoken in this popular
(shortened to "pop") music says nothing of importance; the messages contained in
the songs are frivolous or downright harmful, and the songs would lose little
without them.

Also, there are what the Humans call Plays, in which some Humans will act out
situations as specific characters for the entertainment of their fellows. These
plays have much the same power of suggestion as do their more sophisticated
counterpart, Movies, but for some reason they do not have as great influence as
do Movies.

Then there is what is called "Radio," which uses special beams (basically the
same as the Rolygn Waves) to transmit all sorts of sounds, from music to spoken
words, into small boxes, and from these boxes the transmitted sounds could be
heard. Radio used to be incredibly influential, indeed, there was one incident
in which a young man used the technology to transmit the words and sounds of a
play about Tholcandren being invaded by "Aliens" (beings from other planets,
like ourselves) and thus sent millions of his fellows into a panic, as they
believed what he said was actually happening. No, however, Radio has grown
somewhat obsolete, having been replaced by its more sophisticated counterpart,
Television (see directly below).

Two of the most recent forms of Media are incredibly powerful, and they go hand
in hand: Movies and Television. Movies, as stated above, are much like plays,
except that they can be recorded, preserved, and seen by millions. In this way,
their messages are spread much more effectively than Plays.

The second, Television, is a combination of many things. The Television itself
is a large box, on one side of which is a large, glass screen. Onto this screen
images are projected, and from machines called "speakers", which are usually
nearby the Television, project sounds to go with the images, and thus create the
illusion to whoever is watching the images and hearing the sounds that they are
really experiencing the situation. These images and sounds are transmitted much
the same way Radio sounds were transmitted, and thus, a single message, event,
or form of entertainment can be seen and heard by millions.

Now, what, exactly, is shown in Television? Primarily, there are things called
Television Shows (or Series), which are like Movies, in that Human actors
portray specific characters in certain situations. However, while the characters
remain the same, there are different performances dealing with different
situations on a regular basis. As a result, many of the viewers of these shows
can form a strong attachment to the characters and their messages.

More prominently, there are things called "Advertisements". Some background must
be given before I explain these: For the past century or so, Humans have been
using a strange procedure to manufacture goods. Rather like their nations are
divided, their manufacturers are likewise divided into numerous companies, all
of which manufacture various goods. Advertisements are like very brief shows in
which a specific company will vie for the viewers attention, and by making their
product look more appealing than others, try to get the viewer to think they are
in dire need of whatever product is being advertised. Advertisements tend to be
flashy, fast, and in all other respects generally obnoxious. And even though
they are not supposed to, they probably take up more time on Television than
does anything else.

Now, throughout the time all these forms of Media were being developed, there
was another form, different from the others because it was (supposedly) meant to
provide information, instead of entertainment. This particular part of the Media
is called the Press. The Press is made up of hundreds, even thousands, of
publications rather like books except that they report on current events and
have updated editions published and released on a regular basis. Most of these
publications will claim to be objective, fair reports that are not biased
towards any individual viewpoints. This is a lie. All of these publications are
most definitely biased, some more so than others. And, unfortunately, many of
them are biased in support of the various idiocies plaguing Humans.

I apologize for the time I took to describe the Media, but it is vast and the
explanation was needed. You can probably already see how the Humans minds are
nearly controlled by this semi-organization (it's more of an omnipresent entity,
really). All seperate factions of the Media are constantly pushing various
veiwpoints, ideas, and promotions on their hapless patrons, many of them
conflicting and competing. No doubt this is largely responsible for the
crippling confusion Humans suffer.

Interesting, ain't it, to get an alien's point of view? I wonder if he's met C.S. Lewis; I think I espy some similarities between the letter and a certain trilogy of books that Lewis wrote. How odd.
More to come.

Brace yourselves...

2005-07-14T17:03:00.000-07:00

...first post in a looong time:
Any regular readers of mine will notice that I haven't posted in the last, what, month?
This is pretty much because we were moving, and thus our Internet service had to be uprooted and transplanted (more on that irritating little saga later).
We have moved into a big ol' remodeled "A" house (if anyone knows what "A" means, please let me know. As far as I can tell, it means the house was built way back when in the forties). It's a lovely place, but the location is what's really fantastic. You can bike almost anywhere. To a movie, to a fast food place, to the library, to the pool, to church...seemingly everything is a stone's throw away (with the exception of what will be school next year, but even that is significantly closer).
So we have moved to a great house with a great location. That's one bit of news. Second bit:
My birthday was June 23. I am now fifteen. WHEEEEE!! PERMIT TIME!! Can't wait to get out and terrorize the populace in the process of learning to drive. Heheheh...
Third bit:
I am typing this on a computer at the library. Verizon, our ex-ISP, is being a butthead, true to the nature of massive corporate beasts. We have spent the last month grappling with their oh-so-connected highnesses over at Verizon, trying to get the Internet back up at our new place, only to come to this thoroughly irritating conclusion:
We cannot have our good ol' DSL service back, as it isn't provided to our area. So we can either revert back to dialup, or do all our Internet business at the library, as I'm doing now. Fortunately, they do have DSL (or something else fast) here, but the only browser they have is stinkin' old Explorer. I hate Explorer! BAAH!! I want Firefox (my apologies to IE users veiwing this site. It looks great in Firefox, it really does, IMHO).
Lastly, I would like to offer my thoughts on War of the Worlds, which I saw Sunday.
There was something about WW that seemed different from other movies. For one thing, it held my attention for the entire time. Not so with most movies, which tend to have their snore moments. No boring bits here.
Something else about WW, though, that struck me, was that I had never seen a movie quite so...gritty...as this was. This movie is truly a series of unfortunate events. After the first hapless dude gets torched with a heat ray, the three D's (death, doom, and destruction) never let up, until the very end. The only other movie that I've seen that constantly hammers you that way is the Passion. Not that I'm making any other comparisons between the two. Jesus' crucifixion and takeover by hostile aliens are two very different things.
In my opinion, if you are over ten years old (there are rather disturbing bits), and are reasonably fond of sci-fi, you should definitely see this movie. It's not Spielberg's best, but compared to the other films trying to break the schlock-block, it's good stuff.

Observations

2005-06-14T15:26:00.000-07:00

About a year ago, some dude whom no one had previously heard of named Morgan Spurlock released his documentary about the dangers of fast food (particularly Mickey D's) Super Size Me. Spurlock's documentary followed him through a rather hellish thirty days, in which he restricted himself to eat nothing but McDonald's food (well, we all know this already. I'm just saying it because).
Bleagh.
The results were pretty predictable. Spurlock's health went off the high dive, and by the time the thirty days were up, he was in a, well...pretty bad state. He escaped death, and that's the important thing, but his escape was pretty narrow. On top of this, and pretty obviously, he gained a lot of weight.
Sprinkled in with footage of his ordeal, Spurlock included numerous little snippets exposing various nasty parts of the fast food industry, and what it does to people. Combine this information with Spurlock's disastrous health by the end of the documentary, and you had a pretty damning case against fast food.
And after this damning evidence was released, what happened?
Not much, it seems. All that really happened was that McDonald's removed the Super Size option on their fries, and began to offer some more healthy foods, which no one really eats anyway. I mean, what kid would choose apple slices over fries? Yeah (oh, and, as Spurlock said in the video release of Super Size Me, McDonald's didn't seem to have fully repented of it's ways, as it also launched, along with it's health foods, the fat'n'grease crammed McGriddle sandwich).
Anyway, point is, Spurlock's documentary doesn't appear to have cured America of it's fast food craving. This isn't a failure on his part, as Super Size Me was well made and presented a powerful case against fast food. But I doubt anyone was really converted from eating fast food by it. It maybe only strenghtened the resolve of those who were staying away from it in the first place.
My point? I just seemed to realize something rather sad about the world. It's hard to gain converts to anything. No matter how powerful your evidence, no matter how convincing your case, people don't listen if they don't want to. We keep eating fast food, some of us often, some of us occasionally, even though we know it's wreaking cardiovascular havoc. People still resist what is true, (whether that truth be obvious or harder to find) if it disagrees with whatever habits, worldviews, or beliefs are stuck in their heads. Unfortunate.
However, there's always hope. Keep plugging, Morgan; you might convert us someday.

In case you were wondering...

2005-06-09T13:07:00.000-07:00

...this place looks like I got into the Crayola factory (at least, the section where they make all the blue stuff) because I've been fiddling with the template (duh). Hopefully when I'm done, this'll look a bit better.
Hopefully.

My Summas, Part 3: The Bible

2005-06-08T15:19:00.000-07:00

In my last post, I showed some evidence that supported the idea of an intelligent Creator, namely, God. 'Course, all (or most, in any case) religions base their faith on this belief. If I'm trying to prove the truth of Christianity, though, we want to take this a step further: The Bible. There are numerous proofs that support the Bible as accurate. Here are a few:

Prophecies: The Bible is full of prophecies, especially the Old Testament, and most, if not all of these prophecies have happened as prohesied. An example, of course, is Jesus. As many as 300 Old Testament prophecies were fulfilled by Jesus. The OT said that the Messiah would work miracles, and Jesus did that, numerous times, in front of thousands of witnesses. It also gave many descriptions of the Messiah's death, saying He would be peirced through the hands and feet, He would be betrayed to His death by a friend, and His legs would not be broken (something that was commonly done during crucifixions to speed up the victim's death, if you didn't know that already), among others, all of which happened to Jesus. Last, and maybe most importantly, it was prophesied that the Messiah would rise from the dead, which Jesus did, and appeared to as many as 500 people, after having most definitely died.
Another example of Biblical prophecy fulfilled is (or "was", actually) the great country of Edom. It was an immensly powerful country, but also very evil. Numerous prophecies were made about it's eventual destruction, and between 400-500 B.C. (about a century after the last prophecy about it had been made), it was taken over by other Arab groups, who, in turn, were overthrown by people called the Nabataeans, who were overthrown by the Romans, and this tedious chain of let's-nab-Edom-and-lose-it-again events continued until about the 12th century A.D., when the Crusaders built a castle there. After they left, Edom was pretty much dead, until it was rediscovered by a Swiss traveler in 1812.
Textual evidence: Lotsanlotsanlots of manuscripts documenting both the Old and New Testaments exist. These manuscripts were written by people of numerous different races, cultures, and languages, yet they all seem to be in agreement. Some do disagree on minor details, such as spelling of names, or numbers of things (such as the amount of soldiers in an army), but nothing of significance. The New Testament alone is documented by over 20,000 manuscripts, making it the most reliable "document of antiquity", that is, a document written before the invention of the printing press.
Early Christians were, as we all know, persecuted for their faith, mainly by Romans and some of the Jews. If the New Testament writings were false, you can bet that these two groups would have dug up a lot of evidence against it to bring the spread of Christianity to a grinding halt. No such proof exists, though.

There is more evidence that supports the truth of the Bible, (or at least debunks arguments often used against it), but there's some for you. The information in this post was stolen from here--as if you didn't figure that out already by following the links above.

My Summas, Part 2: God

2005-06-03T15:32:00.000-07:00

I am pretty surprised that Atheists exist at all, at least, I'm surprised that Type 1 Atheists exist (see my last post for my definition of a "Type 1 Atheist"). This is because the logic that makes the case for the existence of a Creator is, to me, very simple and very hard to argue. It is this:
Ask an Atheist where the Universe came from, and they may well tell you something to the effect of "It started as a tiny ball of extremely densely packed matter, which spontaneously exploded at some point in pre-time. The exploded matter went swirling around and around, until it eventually settled into planets, galxies, stars, and the like." Or they may simply say "The Big Bang," and keep a long story short. Now, if you want to stay on their case, you will then ask them "But where did that ball come from?" They may answer to the effect of: "Well, it probably came around from a previous universe. See, scientists think that the universe has been going through a cycle, where it explodes, then compresses into a ball again, explodes, then compresses, explodes, compresses, in a never-ending cycle. Our universe is part of that cycle." Or, they may simply say "The Big Bang 'n' Crunch Cycle," and keep a long story short.
Now, whether that is true, whether the Big Bang really happened, and whether our universe will eventually collapse on itself, may be true. I don't know, and that's not the point here. The point is that, with those replies, we still don't get a satisfactory answer. Why? Well, at the risk of stating the obvious, I'll plow ahead:
Our universe is swarming with cycles. Planets cycle around their suns, the tides cycle in and out, living things cycle with birth, reproduction, and death...almost everything goes around and around. However, these cycles all had to start somewhere. Even though they can (theoretically) go on forever, they didn't exist forever. Same rules apply to the supposed "Big Bang 'n' Crunch Cycle". Something else had to start the cycle; something else had to make that little marble of matter, so it could explode and start everything else off, because, as we all know, it's physically impossible to make something out of nothing. But waaaaay, waaaay back, that has to be what happened, because, as we all know, it's physically impossible for something to have just existed forever. So, how can this irritating little paradox be resolved? One word:
God.
God, because He can make something out of nothing, and He has existed forever.
So, to make a long story short: There has to have been an intelligent Creator of the Universe, because, quite simply, nothing else is possible.

My Summas*, Part I: The 3 Atheists

2005-06-01T13:23:00.000-07:00

The next few posts I will be making will be about why I am Christian, why I believe it is right, and other various thoughts concerning religion and whatnot.
This first post is considering the causes of Atheism and its different forms. In my last post, I had an excerpt from a sermon made by a priest who was speculating that Atheism is caused by not so much a disbelief in God, but a dislike. That may be the case, but I think denial of God may be caused by three other things; therefore, there are three different kinds of Atheists.

The first kind of Atheist is the type who doesn't believe in God and religion simply because he doesn't think the existence of a God follows reason. His Atheism is purely based on intellectual reasons. In my opinion, this kind of Atheist is the least common because, as I want to show in following posts, anyone who was letting his intellect--and intellect alone--dictate what he believed in would realize the existence of a God is perfectly logical.
The second kind rejects the ideas of religion and God because it won't allow for his kind of lifestyle. This is more common, in my opinion, especially in today's society. Practicing a religion takes away something many of us hold dear, that is, the freedom to do whatever we want. Religion dictates what is right and what is wrong, and Atheist #2 doesn't want to listen to that. Someone who is addicted to smoking doesn't like seeing those "Tobacco smokes you" billboards, because they shake a finger at his lifestyle. Religion does the same to Atheist #2, and he doesn't like it. In other words, this Atheist's reasons for being Atheist are more psychologically based than intellectually based (though #2 may use #1's arguments to make it look like he is, in fact, a #1).
The third, last, and possibly most common Atheist is the "don't know don't care" type. This Atheist never really gave any serious thought to religion, and honestly doesn't care about it. He may live a lifestyle that wouln't be allowed by religion, but that's not the key factor here, as he really doesn't realize what he's doing is forbidden. He just thinks going to church every morning is a pain in the butt, and things like that are largely what makes him an Atheist. Most of these Atheists were probably raised with some religious background, but when they went off to college and were no longer in need of their parents to tell them what to do, to haul them out of bed on Sundays, brush their hair, and plunk them in a pew for a (in their humble opinion) &@#$ boring hour, they dropped the whole "religion thing" like a hot potato and ran off to do....whatever. Something else. Many baptized Catholics, Christians, etc. are, in fact, Athiests (or will be when they hit 18) for these reasons.

And that concludes the first part of my "Summas". Thank you for reading.

*That title, by the way, is not meant to suggest that I think these posts will be in any way comparable with St. Thomas Aquinas' works of theological genius. They won't be. I'm using the word "Summas" here to, I dunno, mean something of religious meaning/significance/etc.

River of....FIIRE!!

2005-05-28T15:40:00.000-07:00

Any good parish priest will tell you that the typical Catholic has gotten gobsmackingly lax in the practice of his/her faith. Well "typical" is an exagerration, I guess. But even so, many Catholics have, as I said, become very lazy when it comes to practicing their faith, if they haven't dropped it altogether. Why is this?
That same good parish priest will probably tell you this is because most people over-emphasize the merciful side of God, to the point where His just side is nearly totally ignored. Therefore, people worry less about sinning, Hell, and all that other lovely stuff.
Now back in, say, the Middle Ages, the problem was entirely different. People were morbidly fascinated with Hell, and God was much less of a loving creator to them than He was a merciless judge. And, funnily enough, now that the former misconception has had its spin, the latter may be coming back. At least, perhaps among more consistent Catholics. This isn't a good thing.
I've found a very interesting article, in one of the forum threads linked to above, that explains what is wrong with this picture of God (as merciless tyrant in the skies), and, also, how it has contributed to the popularity of atheism. Quote do I:

I have the suspicion that men today believe in God more than at any other time in human history. Men know the gospel, the teaching of the Church, and God’s creation better than at any other time. They have a profound consciousness of His existence. Their atheism is not a real disbelief. It is rather an aversion toward somebody we know very well but whom we hate with all our heart, exactly as the demons do. We hate God, that is why we ignore Him, overlooking Him as if we did not see Him, and pretending to be atheists. In reality we consider Him our enemy par excellence. Our negation is our vengeance, our atheism is our revenge.
But why do men hate God? They hate Him not only because their deeds are dark while God is light, but also because they consider Him as a menace, as an imminent and eternal danger, as an adversary in court, as an opponent at law, as a public prosecutor and an eternal persecutor. To them, God is no more the almighty physician who came to save them from illness and death, but rather a cruel judge and a vengeful inquisitor.
You see, the devil managed to make men believe that God does not really love us, that He really only loves Himself, and that He accepts us only if we behave as He wants us to behave; that He hates us if we do not behave as He ordered us to behave, and is offended by our insubordination to such a degree that we must pay for it by eternal tortures, created by Him for that purpose.
Who can love a torturer? Even those who try hard to save themselves from the wrath of God cannot really love Him. They love only themselves, trying to escape God’s vengeance and to achieve eternal bliss by managing to please this fearsome and extremely dangerous Creator.
Do you perceive the devil’s slander of our all-loving, all-kind, and absolutely good God? That is why in Greek the devil was given the name of diabolos, "the slanderer."

So, all you hardcore atheists out there, you really do believe in God, even though you may not know it yet. Give me a minute to go off and laugh at the irony of it all.

An old bumper sticker comes to mind

2005-05-25T15:24:00.000-07:00

Another interesting tidbit in today's paper:
Apparently, the percentage of children making up the population of San Francisco (and other big cities) has gone sky diving lately. Right now, 14.5% of the population of SF is made up of people younger than 18.
Who's surprised?
Schools in San Francisco are now half full, the park is populated more by dog owners than by chilluns, and the kids that are still there can't be sure their friends will be there the next day. No, I'm not saying SF's totalitarian (totalitarian....right, this is California were talking about) government is sending out snipers to systematically pick off the kids. Actually, families, and the kids in them, are vamoosing faster than they can be replaced. Again, who's surprised?
This kid-loss has been attributed to several things. It's been suggested that part of this is becuase 20% of San Francisco's population is homosexual (now, you gotta admit that's weird--more homosexuals than kids. When's the last time that happened?), however, this idea has been somewhat debunked, as more and more gay/lesbian couples are adopting.
It seems that the city itself is scaring people away. Most of the families that have been running away haven't been going to Alaska or anything, they've just been running to nearby residential neighborhoods; places that aren't suffering quite so much from the city's claustrophobia and general nose-in-the-air-ish-ness.
Anyway, just thought I'd share that.

We got Death Sta, we got Death Sta...

2005-05-20T20:34:00.000-07:00

While the eye candy of the previous two movies was certainly a lot of fun, it's nice to see that George Lucas is still able, when the need arises, to eke some emotion out of his (otherwise cardboard-y) characters.
Episode III is an interesting movie, to say the least (By the way, here's a big, fat SPOILER WARNING for those who have yet to see the film *gloats*).
As with the other movies, the special effects in this movie (and there are tons) are frequent and very well done; it's hard not to sit through one of the many battle scenes in this film without feeling somewhat high. Unlike the last two prequels (well, Episode II, in any case), there's a bit more to this movie than eye candy. The plot is much more interesting and easy to follow than that of Attack of the Clones, and is emotionally more complicated than either PM or AC.
Something else interesting: All of the previous movies, without being necessarily fluffy, have been very...safe. In many of the past movies, Lucas hasn't really done anything really unusual, or shocking. In this movie he does, however. For example, in this movie he has the guts to kill off kids, and many of them. That's certainly not the sort of thing you'd (or at least I) expect from something like Star Wars, something that everyone goes to see and more or less expects the usual Lucasfilm fare (of course, the movie's rated PG-13, so people probably knew something was afoot. But several of the rather frightening tricks that were pulled in this movie I wasn't expecting at all). Anyhoo, summing up these last few paragraphs: This movie takes more risks and is certainly more frightening and thought-provoking than the other SW movies.
Now for another side: The ideas behind this movie. I noticed several interesting things while watching. Of course, perhaps this is just a case of me seeing what I wanted to see, but, well...anyway.
First off: The movie seems rather pro-life. Padme and Anakin are secretly married, something not good for either of them (Padme holds a fairly high position in the government, and Anakin is a Jedi and therefore more or less sworn to celibacy), and if this fact was to become public, it would be good ol' scandal 'n' ruin for both of them. Then, guess what: Padme gets pregnant. Another guess what: Despite the fact that this is a pretty ruinous thing to happen, Anakin and Padme choose to keep their baby (babies, as it happens). Of course, I've no idea whether the galaxy has abortion methods on hand, but you catch my drift.
Second off: The bad guys in the movie appear to be moral relativists. A speech Darth Sideous gives Anakin while trying to convert him to the Dark Side distinctly reminds me of the type of psychobabble often given by the liberal, atheist, anti-Christian crowd. Also, during Obi-Wan and Anakin's climactic lightsaber duel towards the end, Obi-Wan says something to Anakin to the effect of "The Sith are evil, why did you join them?" and Anakin responds: "From my point of view you're evil." (emphasis added)
Hmmmm...

Buckle up or die

2005-05-14T09:04:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, Ye Olde Merry Washington (not D.C.), started a statewide crackdown on all those nasty-wasty people who don't wear seat-belts. Now, if a copper catches you with passengers (or yourself) without a seat-belt, you get the usual old $100 dollar ticket...for you. If there's more than one person in the car without a 'belt, however, you get ticketed for them, as well. So, if you're lucky, a trip to the grocery store can cost you $500 (for a family like ours, anyway)!!! Oh, goody!
And as an added bonus, cops can now pull you over for exactly zero reasons, just to make sure you're clickin' it.
Why am I so ticked about this? It's just a stupid seat-belt. Precisely, it's just a stupid seat-belt. You'd think our state's government would have more important things on their minds than seat-belts. Their train of thought seems to be going somehwhat like so: "Why worry about meth labs or embezzlers when we can get those meanies who don't buckle up?" Yeah, why worry?? Goodness knows that people who don't buckle up are more of a threat to society than those who are crankin' out crack by the bagful, or killing kids by the jarful.
So remember, all you Washingtonians: Click it or ticket.

The Ultimate Cure for boredom

2005-05-03T16:52:00.000-07:00

Why sit around and be bored when you can click here and make yourself look as you would "South Park"? Personally, I have no interest in the show itself, but I've always admired the general look of the characters, and when that site was shown to me on BlogHogger, I couldn't resist (and I'm sure you can't, either).
Here be me:

Of course, I took some "artistic license" with this, but I have a feeling most people would. In fact, the only thing about this that is accurate at all is the hair, skin color, and the color of the (almost invisible) pants.
Although you never know--I might have a lightsaber. So it would be best not to get on my bad side, eh? ;)

Another step in the right direction

2005-04-28T07:43:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, the House of Representatives passed a bill that makes it illegal for minors to be taken into other states where the law for parental consent for abortions isn't in effect. This, as the title says, is a step in the right direction. As President Bush (of course, nothing he says is ever of any importance, 'cuz he's just a warmongering monkey who sometimes *gasp* uses improper grammar and other atrocities, after all) said:

The parents of pregnant minors can provide council, guidance, and support to their children and should be involved in these decisions

Yeah. What he said. Even if you're a rabid pro-choicer, you have to admit that a parent's consent not being required for abortions is simply ludicrous. An abortion is a major surgery, and a parent not knowing about it is, well...stupid. As many people have said before, why is it that a student has to ask permission just to get an ibuprofen or aspirin, but can go and get a dangerous surgery on the sly? Hmmm...?

We have a Pope!

2005-04-19T15:29:00.000-07:00

Ladies and gents of the world, please tip your hats to Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, now to be known as...

Pope Benedict XVI

Listen for Truth

2005-04-14T22:13:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, pro-homosexual students everywhere were zippin' the lip to show their support for homosexual students' rights (?). Today, Christian (mostly) students are now making their opinions known. For today, my friends, is the Day of Truth (Oh, and by the way, if you want a link to Day of Silence, it's here).

Anyhoo, today more Christian-minded students will be making their opinions known about homosexuality, by wearing T-shirts with pertinent slogans on them, passing out cards, and etc. The cards will be carrying a message on them that I think sums up quite well the real, Christian attitude towards homosexuality:

"I am speaking the Truth to break the silence. I believe in equal treatment for all, and not special rights for a few. I believe in loving my neighbor, but part of that love means not condoning detrimental personal and social behavior. I believe that by boldly proclaiming the Truth, hurts will be halted, hearts will be healed, and lives will be saved."

Listen for Silence

2005-04-13T08:05:00.000-07:00

I just read an interesting little thing in today's paper. Apparently, today, April 13, is the "Day of Silence". On this day, pro-gay/pro-lesbian/pro-bisexual students all over the nation will spend the school day totally silent, thus voicing their support for gay rights in schools; that is, the same rights for gay students as there are for straight students.
My question, though: What are these rights that gay (and etc.) students are so deprived of? The gay agenda (or whatever you want to call it) has received lots of support across the country, or, at least, in the important places, such as college campuses. The education system throughout the country tends to be pretty liberal (if it isn't, then why is evolution so readily taught while creationism is having such a freakin' hard time?), and the pro-gay folks hold a lot of power. I highly doubt any school would want to discriminate against their gay students, for fear of the ACLU swooping down on them like so many vultures.
So what discrimination are gay students suffering? I highly doubt that they're taking any flak from teachers. I suppose, if anything, it's verbal (sometimes physical, even) abuse from their fellow students. If this is the case, this is truly too bad. However, if people are working to rid gay students of this in their school lives, why don't they work to rid the nerds of it, too? Or the poor kids? Or the rich kids? Or the outspoken Christian kids? Or the Jewish kids? Or Muslim kids? I could go on and on.
I suppose I do believe homosexuals should have the same rights as anyone else (with the exception of marriage, obviously--and please don't start, GOB, we've covered this topic so thouroughly already), but they certainly shouldn't have more rights than anyone else, correct? All you fairness-loving liberals out there have no choice but to agree with me.

Snnrrrrkkk!!

2005-04-10T08:03:00.000-07:00

Got these (rather intimidating) lists in an email a while ago. Thought I'd share them with y'all:

54 Fun Things to do at Wal Mart ~Take shopping carts for the express purpose of filling them and stranding them at strategic locations. ~Ride those little electronic cars at the front of the store. ~Set all the alarm clocks to go off at ten-minute intervals throughout the day. ~Don't bother doing your own shopping. Simply find someone with a full trolley containing roughly the items you need, and when they are not looking take it and go pay for it at the checkout. ~Contaminate the entire auto department by sampling all the spray air fresheners. ~Challenge other customers to duels with tubes of gift-wrap. ~Leave cryptic messages on the typewriters. ~Re-dress the mannequins as you see fit, then arrange them into weird poses. ~When there are people behind you, walk really slowly, especially in thin aisles. ~Walk up to an employee and tell him in an official tone, "I think we've got a code 3 in housewares," and see what happens. ~Turn all the radios to polka stations; then turn them off and turn the volume up to full blast. ~Re-enact a fatal incident involving the automatic doors. ~Walk up to complete strangers and say, "Hi. I haven't seen you in so long." etc. See if they play along. Insist on calling them 'Bob', and if they protest, get angry about it (violent if necissary). ~While walking through the clothing department, ask yourself loud enough for all to hear, "Who buys this crap anyway?!" ~When you leave the store, try your car keys in the door of every car in the car park until you get to your own. Then drive off as if this is perfectly normal. ~Ride a display bicycle through the store; claim you are taking it for a test drive. ~Follow people through the aisles, staying about 5 feet behind them. Do this until they leave the store. ~Ask if you can test some super-glue before buying it, then walk around the store gluing random items to other items/customers/staff. For added fun: See how many cashiers you can glue to each-other before any of them notice. ~As the cashier runs your purchase over the scanner say "BEEP" in a loud voice. Repeat this for every item, and for other customers items. If the cashier protests, kill them. ~Take off your shoes and tell the employees you want to return them and when they say you didn't buy it there say "The customer is always right!!" Make a scene. ~Move "Caution : Wet Floor" signs to carpeted areas. ~Set up a tent in the camping department; tell others you will only invite them in if they bring pillows from Bed, Bath and Beyond. ~Test the fishing rods and see what you can catch from other aisles. ~Ask other customers if they have any Grey Poupon. ~Drape a blanket around your shoulders and run around saying, "I'm Batman. Come Robin, to the Batcave." ~Climb things. ~Randomly throw things over into neighboring aisles. ~Play with the calculators so that they all spell "hello" upside down. ~When someone asks you if you need help, begin to cry and say, "Why won't you people just leave me alone?" ~When 2 or 3 people are walking ahead of you, run between them yelling "Red Rover." ~Make up nonsense products and ask employees if there are any in stock. (i.e.: Shnerples). Do a vague hand-mime of what a 'Shnerple' looks like to assist them. ~Take up an entire aisle in toys by setting up a full-scale battle with G.I. Joe vs. X-men. ~Take bets on the battle from above. ~Test the brushes and combs in Cosmetics on all the live animals in Pet-Care. ~While handling guns in the hunting department, suddenly ask the clerk where the anti-depressants are. Act as spastic as possible. ~Hold indoor shopping cart races. ~Dart around suspiciously while humming the theme from Mission Impossible. ~Attempt to fit into very large gym bags. ~Attempt to fit others into very large gym bags against their will. ~Say things like, "Would you be so kind as to direct me to your Twinkies." ~Set up a "Valet Parking" sign in front of the store. ~Two words: Marco Polo. ~Leave Cheerios in lawn and garden, pillows in the pet section, etc. ~"Re-alphabetize" the CD's using an alternative alphabet of your choosing. ~In the auto department, practice your Madonna look with various funnels. ~When someone steps away from his or her cart to look at something, quickly place random combinations of items in their cart, such as 'A Large Cucumber and a Tub of Vasceline'. ~Relax in the patio furniture drinking beer until you get kicked out. ~When an announcement comes over the loudspeaker, drop to your knees and scream, "No, no, its those voices again." ~Pay off layaways 50 cents at a time. ~Drag a lounge chair over to the magazines and relax. Go to the food court, buy a drink, and explain that you don't get out much and ask if they can put a little umbrella in it. ~Make a trail of orange juice on the floor, leading to the restrooms. ~Look right into the security camera, and use it as a mirror while you pick your nose. ~Hide in the clothing racks and when people browse through, say things like "pick me! pick me!!" ~Go into the dressing room and yell really loud..."Hey, we're out of toilet paper in here!" 15 Fun Things to do at McDonalds ~Laugh really loud for absolutly no good reason. ~On a self-serve Coke machine, fill your cup with ice and just stand there until someone tells you its overflowing. ~Run into people's tables and say, "Oh sorry!" ~Stomp your foot and say, "OHMYGOD they dont have tacos!" ~Listen in on people's conversations and laugh when they laugh. ~Sing the Taco Bell song over and over until someone tells you to stop. ~After you filled up your cup, trip and say, "Oh at least they're free." ~Walk by peoples tables and steal their fries. ~Look at the toys and say, "My gosh, what cheap toys." ~Bring a newspaper over to someones table (that you don't know) and say, "Do you have 7 down on this morning's crossword puzzle?" When they answer no, steal some fries and go on to the next table. ~Leave your tray and trash in the bathroom ~When your in the bathroom say, "Does anyone have a lot of toilet paper I can borrow?" ~If some one is in the bathroom, kick the door and say, get out of my bathroom! ~When no one is in the bathroom, lock the door and decorate the bathroom with toilet paper. ~Make the shape of a gun with your hand and stick in your shirt and say, "GIVE ME ALL YOUR FRIES!" and then say, "No I'm only kidding, I would like to order." 31 Children's Books That Didn't Make It ~You're Different -- And That's Bad ~The Boy Who Died from Eating All His Vegetables ~Robert: Dad's New Wife ~Fun Four-Letter Words to Know and Share ~The Kids' Guide to Hitchhiking ~Kathy Was So Bad That her Mom Stopped Loving Her ~Curious George and the High-Voltage Fence ~All Cats Go to Hell ~The Little Sissy That Snitched ~Why Can't Mr. Fork and Mrs. Electrical Outlet be Friends? ~That's It, I'm Putting You Up for Adoption. ~Grandpa Gets a Casket ~101 Things You Can Do at the Bottom of the Pool ~The Magic World Inside the Abandoned Refrigerator ~Controlling the Playground: Respect Through Fear ~The Pop-Up Book of Human Anatomy ~Strangers Have the Best Candy ~Whining, Kicking and Crying to Get Your Way ~You Were an Accident ~Things Rich Kids Have, But You Never Will ~Daddy Drinks Because You Cry ~Your Nightmares Are Real ~Where Would You Like to be Buried? ~You've Got Hepatitis B, Charlie Brown ~Valuable Protein and Other Nutritional Benefits of Things from Your Nose ~"Ploff!" goes the Hamster and 100 Other Fun Microwave Games ~Curious George and the Rotweilers ~Garfield Gets Feline Leukemia ~Used Toilet Paper and Your Babysitter ~The Care Bears Maul Some Campers ~Places Where Mommy and Daddy Hide Neat Things

Yowza M'Showza!!

2005-04-08T17:34:00.000-07:00

I don't suppose you have any clue what the title means? Dang, I don't either. Well, I have a clue. It's a random phrase I just coined, pulled out of a sack of verbal debris in my mind, to express surprise at upcoming big change. That is: we're moving.
Of course, on the Internet, where you can talk to your neighbor as soon as you can talk to a guy in Sri Lanka, this means next to nil, but to me, it's kinda big news. This is part of the reason I haven't posted for a while; we've gone somewhat crazy preparing our house for selling (that--and laziness on my part).
While we have moved before; numerous times, this move is a first for our family, because for once we're just moving to a more convenient part of town, as opposed to going halfway across the country. It's nice that this time, the verb will literally be "move" instead of "totally uproot and transplant". Aaah...
Earlier today my parents signed the papers necessary to make an offer on this luuverly house we found, a big ol' "A" house that's been spiffingly remodeled and will actually have enough bedrooms for all of us. Except for a rather hazardous staircase and a freezing basement, the house is fantastic. Cross your fingers and hope we get it.

Oh, and...
In the unlikely event that any Myst fans are reading this, I have a favor to ask. A few weeks ago, I made a petition on petitiononline.com to be sent to CyanWorlds (the guys who made Myst, in the once-again-unlikely-event you didn't already know that), asking them to seriously consider having a Myst movie made. I've gotten it fairly well publicized, but I just felt my plugging spree wouldn't be complete unless I posted about it on my blog. If you want to sign the petition, it is here.

One more thing...
Check this out:
The Weirdest Blog Ever Written.

In Memory of...

2005-04-04T09:26:00.000-07:00

Karol Wojtyla / Pope John Paul II

1920 - 2005

He's Baaaack!

2005-03-28T14:31:00.000-08:00

You know, it's irritating. For the past month I've been going without blogging. In that past month, when I was unable to blog, I had a ton of ideas for posts and post-worthy events happen. Of course, when I was still blogging, an honest-to-God, good idea for a post was rarer than...than...y'know what, skip that. I can't come up with any good metaphor thingies now.
Ahem, anyway, all this babble to basically say that this year's Lent has been eventful. Some of the things that transpired:

Alice in Wonderland, the play our family was most recently in, wrapped up. It was a ton of fun, but I find it a relief to no longer have to run around in a ten-pound hat (okay, okay...eight pounds).

A prominent member of our parish, a Sr. Ann Constance, died. She had been diagnosed with cancer several months earlier. A few weeks prior to her death, she was given the option of chemotherapy, but refused it, and died, peacefully in her sleep, on February 28. It affected almost all the parish, as she was a teacher at the school, as well as active in numerous other things with her fellow sisters. We all miss her, and even though I didn't personally know her well, I thought she might be interested to know that I am, finally, typing with two hands (more or less).

Often, people wonder how God can allow terrible things to happen to people. "Why," they ask, "does He let these things happen, if He is so kind and loving?" Several reasons: One, we can learn lessons from our mistakes and bad experiences. Two, we can come to recognize what the real value of suffering is. Three, great trials can bring out the best in some people. Bravery, selflessness, compassion--all of these can surface in a person in the face of suffering. But there is a fourth reason, too, one that never really occured to me: when terrible things happen, it can make people forget their differences and work together, whether that work is digging through the rubble of a collapsed building, or simply consoling someone who's been through a trauma. I expereinced secondhand an example of reason #4. God of Biscuits, the man with whom all of us on BlogHogger had been debating for, like, ever, had to undergo such a trauma as I mentioned. I don't think I'll describe it; it's been relived once and that's enough. Interestingly, though, when GOB posted about his experiences on his blog, naturally his friends were first in line to offer condolences, but also, several members of the BH posse* (such as Hoody and Masked Avenger) expressed sorrow and sympathy to GOB, something I'm sure he didn't expect. So, you see what I mean with reason #4. * BH posse meaning all the dudes who were arguing on our side.

I got Switchfoot's new album, the Beautiful Letdown, and it's really good. While their lyrics and music aren't quite as poetic or intricate as, say, Dave Matthews or U2, it is very refreshing to hear Christian rock that isn't really...Christian. What I mean when I say that is that they're lyrics, while Christian, are more diverse and imaginative than "Jesus, I love you, you have redeemed me. God loves you, God loves me, yaddi yaddi yaddah". It's nice to hear Christian music that, upon hearing it, you don't immediately know is Christian. It's nice to hear Christian music that doesn't make you risk saccharine poisoning.

The political volcano known as the Terri Schaivo case has been quieted, more or less, in the most appalling way. Terri now lies dying in some hospital room in Florida, in the name of mercy. Yeah, mercy, sure. In the name of mercy, she is slowly dying. In the name of mercy, she is denied any visitors, help, or consolation of any kind while she starves. In the name of mercy, her husband has her killed while, in the meantime, he runs off with another woman and the profits of the lawsuit. Isn't it delightful, the outpouring of love and compassion flooding the globe? This delightful practice is what's happening in the U.S. This is what's happening in the Netherlands. This is what's happening all over. As Louie Armstrong said "What a wonderful world". Yes, this is what's happening. In the name of mercy, love, and compassion, we murder.

And on that cynical note, I'll sign off.

Happy Easter!

2005-03-27T11:15:00.000-08:00

Haaaaaaaalleluuujaaaah!!!

He is Risen!

And I'm baaaaaaaack!! (Mwa ha ha)