Well, for the time being, MySpace is down--I can't logon and therefore cannot edit it--so I'm putting this video here. My buddy Darren sent me this. Christmas lights on steroids. Turn up your sound and enjoy!
FreeVideoCoding.com
Click here to open this video externally.
P.S. Sometimes this video may not work. This is because Yahoo! has limited my bandwidth, which is the drawback to free webhosting. It takes an hour before it's back up and running again.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
A Writer--Not A Finisher...Apparently
So, as a writer, I'm quite tormented. It seems that free time is a scarce thing--and when I do finally come by it, I use it for other things, like posting on my blog apparently. I'm actually posting because I saw my mom's comment and realized that it's been exactly one month since my last post--my last, incredibly weak, post.
Yet again, I've decided to rewrite my book Nefroidak. It is now 16,315 words, which comes out to 61 pages of incredibly unsatisfactory storyline. I admit to being my own worst critic and I'll also admit to rewriting this story ten or twenty times (lost count), but each time I take a crack at it, I learn more about writing, I learn more about character development, and I become unimpressed with the garbage I've written down. Luckily for Maggie, I didn't make her read this latest version. She gets annoyed, understandably, when she reads part of a story, without an ending, and then I never even get to the ending and, in fact, change the whole thing around.
Pastor Al has told me numerous times that J. R. Tolkien spent an exorbitant amount of time on his works, but C. S. Lewis told him to quit making adjustments and just send it in for publishing, but it doesn't really apply to me, because I have never actuallly written the entire story out. As sad as it sounds, I have never even written a complete outline. That's what I'm working on tonight, hopefully. I know the end, but I still haven't decided on a beginning.
I have written a somewhat lengthy introduction that puts forth the premise. I've pasted it below. Let me know what you think and please pray that this story eventually gets written.
What happens when man finds himself being looked upon as a god? He forgets that he once had a God and his mind becomes clouded with the illusion that perhaps his line is responsible for the placement of peoples throughout the universe. The Spanish were seen as gods by the natives of the Americas. Men of this new era have now encountered new worlds filled with vastly different species who remember their creators as being surprisingly human. Man thus is justified by those who went before him believing himself to be of greater stature and importance because he himself is godlike, confirmed by the paintings on the walls of the ancient civilizations littering the galaxies.
Unfortunately, this is the way of man. His imperfection leads him to believe in his perfection. His clouded thinking allows him to ignore his flawed conclusions. This creates the perpetuating error of self exaltation. The beginning came and men fell. They populated the earth and expanded their knowledge beyond the planets of this solar system becoming increasingly filled with evil desires. God snuffed out the growing empire of man on earth with a deluge. It was the end of the great travelers and the beginning of a new line governed by law and then given grace. The men who traveled far off chose to forget earth and their beginnings. Science and knowledge, war and conquest dominated their priorities now.
The changes started with arms races, then moved on to genetic alterations, increasing the quickness of the reflexes, the focus of the eye to see farther, the strengthening of the muscles to wield more power on the battlefield, and the lengthening of life spans in an attempt to cheat death. It soon led down the path to new species, half man, half animal.
Appearances drastically changed, physical structure underwent vast adjustments, and segregation, misplacement, and war resulted, creating new civilizations of people. The fast paced war moved on, amnesia prone, leaving behind species of men on abandoned planets. In this manner, original humans were not forgotten, but remembered and revered as gods; esteemed as creators.
Upon the exploration conducted by modern men, the civilizations welcomed them warmly, and worshiped them as creators. This power gave men the impression that they were superior. They considered all others beneath them. Division between races continued.
The love for self drove away the memory of God. Wars were waged against Christianity and man chose to turn from their only hope. It was not by the will of God that this happened, but by the will of man, for God so loved men that he gave them over to free will. Men allude to His existence in speech and in actions in this time, but seldom give it much thought. Amnesia and self-indulgence fed the desire to remain ignorant. Men cooperated with their sinful freedom, despite the evidence written on their hearts. Because of this, they were allowed to wander from God completely. Their hearts were hard and unmoving. Hope, it seemed, was lost. The gates of heaven grew quiet, in wait for a great change in the hearts of men.
Yet again, I've decided to rewrite my book Nefroidak. It is now 16,315 words, which comes out to 61 pages of incredibly unsatisfactory storyline. I admit to being my own worst critic and I'll also admit to rewriting this story ten or twenty times (lost count), but each time I take a crack at it, I learn more about writing, I learn more about character development, and I become unimpressed with the garbage I've written down. Luckily for Maggie, I didn't make her read this latest version. She gets annoyed, understandably, when she reads part of a story, without an ending, and then I never even get to the ending and, in fact, change the whole thing around.
Pastor Al has told me numerous times that J. R. Tolkien spent an exorbitant amount of time on his works, but C. S. Lewis told him to quit making adjustments and just send it in for publishing, but it doesn't really apply to me, because I have never actuallly written the entire story out. As sad as it sounds, I have never even written a complete outline. That's what I'm working on tonight, hopefully. I know the end, but I still haven't decided on a beginning.
I have written a somewhat lengthy introduction that puts forth the premise. I've pasted it below. Let me know what you think and please pray that this story eventually gets written.
What happens when man finds himself being looked upon as a god? He forgets that he once had a God and his mind becomes clouded with the illusion that perhaps his line is responsible for the placement of peoples throughout the universe. The Spanish were seen as gods by the natives of the Americas. Men of this new era have now encountered new worlds filled with vastly different species who remember their creators as being surprisingly human. Man thus is justified by those who went before him believing himself to be of greater stature and importance because he himself is godlike, confirmed by the paintings on the walls of the ancient civilizations littering the galaxies.
Unfortunately, this is the way of man. His imperfection leads him to believe in his perfection. His clouded thinking allows him to ignore his flawed conclusions. This creates the perpetuating error of self exaltation. The beginning came and men fell. They populated the earth and expanded their knowledge beyond the planets of this solar system becoming increasingly filled with evil desires. God snuffed out the growing empire of man on earth with a deluge. It was the end of the great travelers and the beginning of a new line governed by law and then given grace. The men who traveled far off chose to forget earth and their beginnings. Science and knowledge, war and conquest dominated their priorities now.
The changes started with arms races, then moved on to genetic alterations, increasing the quickness of the reflexes, the focus of the eye to see farther, the strengthening of the muscles to wield more power on the battlefield, and the lengthening of life spans in an attempt to cheat death. It soon led down the path to new species, half man, half animal.
Appearances drastically changed, physical structure underwent vast adjustments, and segregation, misplacement, and war resulted, creating new civilizations of people. The fast paced war moved on, amnesia prone, leaving behind species of men on abandoned planets. In this manner, original humans were not forgotten, but remembered and revered as gods; esteemed as creators.
Upon the exploration conducted by modern men, the civilizations welcomed them warmly, and worshiped them as creators. This power gave men the impression that they were superior. They considered all others beneath them. Division between races continued.
The love for self drove away the memory of God. Wars were waged against Christianity and man chose to turn from their only hope. It was not by the will of God that this happened, but by the will of man, for God so loved men that he gave them over to free will. Men allude to His existence in speech and in actions in this time, but seldom give it much thought. Amnesia and self-indulgence fed the desire to remain ignorant. Men cooperated with their sinful freedom, despite the evidence written on their hearts. Because of this, they were allowed to wander from God completely. Their hearts were hard and unmoving. Hope, it seemed, was lost. The gates of heaven grew quiet, in wait for a great change in the hearts of men.
Sunday, October 23, 2005
The Terrible Flood!
Maggie found this online. It's really funny. Click Play.
Download Windows Media Player if the
video is not playing above.
Download Windows Media Player if the
video is not playing above.
Saturday, September 03, 2005
Saturday, August 27, 2005
"About My Day" Post
Tonight was a fun night. Maggs and I went to my parents house and had German Beer Roast and Spezla. It is my favorite meal. Maggie and I always have a great time having dinner with my family, because we laugh so much. The laughter alone is enough to keep me from ever moving away.
I had a chance to hang out with my little sister Cyndi tonight and she helped me make my myspace a little cooler. We listened to some cool music that she's discovered and ultimately added a cool music video to myspace. I found out that Cyndi is one of the most entertaining people ever to watch while she's online. She does about fifty things at once and never allows you to be bored.
Now I'm home and just about to go to bed. I haven't just posted a simple "about my day" post in sometime, so I figured I would now. It's a short post, but it'll do the job. I'm off to bed now.
I had a chance to hang out with my little sister Cyndi tonight and she helped me make my myspace a little cooler. We listened to some cool music that she's discovered and ultimately added a cool music video to myspace. I found out that Cyndi is one of the most entertaining people ever to watch while she's online. She does about fifty things at once and never allows you to be bored.
Now I'm home and just about to go to bed. I haven't just posted a simple "about my day" post in sometime, so I figured I would now. It's a short post, but it'll do the job. I'm off to bed now.
Monday, August 22, 2005
Bible
My Bible fell apart yesterday at church. The first two hundred or so pages fell out in Sunday School. I felt a deep sorrow. I've had it since Maggie gave it to me as a present about four years ago. She had my name engraved in it. It was the first New International Version I'd ever owned and I loved it. I was able to read it and understand it very easily compared to my King James. I loved my King James, but I loved the NIV even more. It was great to read and I'm a little ashamed to say, I looked forward to reading it because it was much easier to understand than the KJV. There's no fault with KJV, in fact, I understand it very well now, but at the time I receieved my NIV I had a difficult time with it.
I'm currently looking to buy This One right now. It's the coolest Bible I saw on Zondervan. It has notes upon notes. Anyway, Scott just arrived for apologetics, so I'm going to wrap this up and hang out with him.
I'm currently looking to buy This One right now. It's the coolest Bible I saw on Zondervan. It has notes upon notes. Anyway, Scott just arrived for apologetics, so I'm going to wrap this up and hang out with him.
Sunday, August 07, 2005
Friday, August 05, 2005
The Website Revamp
Due to a little spare time, I was able to work on The 5th Column and The Blessed X a little bit. They both have new looks and I tried a few new tricks with them. Do yourself a favor and drop by. Leave comments and have a good time looking around.
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Einstein's Riddle
There are 5 houses in different colors. In each house lives a person with a different nationality. The 5 owners drink a certain type of beverage, smoke a certain brand of cigar, and keep a certain pet. No owners have the same pet, smoke the same brand cigar or drink the same beverage.The question is “Who owns the fish?”
Hints:
The Brit lives in Red House.
The Swede keeps Dogs as pets.
The Dane drinks Tea.
The Green House is on the left of the White House.
The Green House’s owner drinks Coffee.
The person who smokes Pall Mall rears Birds.
The owner of the Yellow House smokes Dunhill.
The man living in the Center House drinks Milk.
The Norwegian lives in the First House.
The man who smokes Blends lives next to the one who keeps Cats.
The man who keeps the Horse lives next to the man who smokes Dunhill.
The owner who smokes Bluemasters drinks Beer.
The German smokes Prince.
The Norwegian lives next to the Blue House.
The man who smokes Blends has a neighbor who drinks Water.
Einstein wrote this riddle last century. He said 98% of the world could not solve it. Good Luck.
Sunday, July 10, 2005
Apologetics July 11th!
Hello everybody! Apologetics is tomorrow (July 11th). Just thought I'd let you all know.
Harry Demo
I found this in my writing folder. I wrote it a while back--thought it was interesting.
“You're a monster Harry!” She yelled. “Get the hell away from me.” She turned and ran from him. She was disgusted. How could he bring her here?
Harry Demo stood there and watched her run away. He didn't say anything. He knew what he had to do now. From his overcoat he pulled a gun. It was a chrome forty-five. He aimed as she slowed from her run.
She was too emotional to keep running. She finally slowed to a walk and began to cry. She sniffled and began to rethink her decision to leave him. She had loved him for a year and maybe she just wasn't ready to give him up just yet. She stopped and started to turn around.
Pop! He watched her fall to the ground. He truly was a monster. He had accepted this. He'd grown up fighting his future, but it was his grooming that made him give up. His father had brought him to every execution and to some silencing events. Frankie Demo was a hard man. He wasn't groomed, but found his way into a world of greed, deception, and betrayal. His first son he named Harry, after his own father. At first, he wanted to keep him away from the life that he lived. He was trapped deep within the game and knew he couldn't leave it himself, but thought that he could spare his son. He left him at home with his mother through his first seven years. If he'd really had his way, it would have stayed that way, but the end came for his sheltered family. Emily was whacked. She was a good mother. Her knowledge of her husband’s business was very limited, but she knew it was less than respectable. Frankie had been spending too much time at home. He fed into the dream of leaving the life he had made for himself and becoming only a husband and a father. His enemies soon found his secret life and zeroed in on his most vulnerable weakness.
Frankie took his son by his side, knowing that he'd better teach his son the ways of the game, or he'd be dead as well. He knew that because of his path he had condemned his son, but realized his son would be better off the more ruthless he was.
Frankie was right. Harry had grown up to be a cold-blooded killer and a heartless businessman. He climbed up to the top of the game. He was the most powerful man in New York, and the most sought after to be killed. He held wealth and respect, but he was forced to continuously protect himself.
He cleaned his gun as he walked from the doc and toward his car. Mike and Jeff stood and leaned against the car smoking their cigars.
“I heard two shots Harry,” said Mike. “Thing’s didn't go well?”
“Get in,” Harry told them.
The two men put out their cigar stubs and tossed them to the ground as Harry got into the back of the car.
“You're a monster Harry!” She yelled. “Get the hell away from me.” She turned and ran from him. She was disgusted. How could he bring her here?
Harry Demo stood there and watched her run away. He didn't say anything. He knew what he had to do now. From his overcoat he pulled a gun. It was a chrome forty-five. He aimed as she slowed from her run.
She was too emotional to keep running. She finally slowed to a walk and began to cry. She sniffled and began to rethink her decision to leave him. She had loved him for a year and maybe she just wasn't ready to give him up just yet. She stopped and started to turn around.
Pop! He watched her fall to the ground. He truly was a monster. He had accepted this. He'd grown up fighting his future, but it was his grooming that made him give up. His father had brought him to every execution and to some silencing events. Frankie Demo was a hard man. He wasn't groomed, but found his way into a world of greed, deception, and betrayal. His first son he named Harry, after his own father. At first, he wanted to keep him away from the life that he lived. He was trapped deep within the game and knew he couldn't leave it himself, but thought that he could spare his son. He left him at home with his mother through his first seven years. If he'd really had his way, it would have stayed that way, but the end came for his sheltered family. Emily was whacked. She was a good mother. Her knowledge of her husband’s business was very limited, but she knew it was less than respectable. Frankie had been spending too much time at home. He fed into the dream of leaving the life he had made for himself and becoming only a husband and a father. His enemies soon found his secret life and zeroed in on his most vulnerable weakness.
Frankie took his son by his side, knowing that he'd better teach his son the ways of the game, or he'd be dead as well. He knew that because of his path he had condemned his son, but realized his son would be better off the more ruthless he was.
Frankie was right. Harry had grown up to be a cold-blooded killer and a heartless businessman. He climbed up to the top of the game. He was the most powerful man in New York, and the most sought after to be killed. He held wealth and respect, but he was forced to continuously protect himself.
He cleaned his gun as he walked from the doc and toward his car. Mike and Jeff stood and leaned against the car smoking their cigars.
“I heard two shots Harry,” said Mike. “Thing’s didn't go well?”
“Get in,” Harry told them.
The two men put out their cigar stubs and tossed them to the ground as Harry got into the back of the car.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Thursday Night's Study - Revised
Something that has affected me significantly:This is not a specific event, but an action carried out day to day. I found, not surprisingly, that if I read the word as much as I could and constantly meditated on it that my entire life began to change.
Not only did it begin to change, but it continued to change.
I began to easily transition to Jesus, the Bible, and the things of God during conversations. I realized that we speak about what’s on our minds most (as long as it’s not shameful). If what you have to talk about is God, you’re a powerful instrument for him to use.
In one conversation I transitioned from water treatment techniques to the need for God in my life. It is the most exhilarating accomplishment when you do something as simple as talking to another person about his Creator.
I found that my studies gained depth. I learned with a greater understanding. I found it less difficult to hear God in my life.
BUT, It is easy to hear sermons over and over, to tell yourself that you know it all, and to become lax with your reading, your searching, and your walk. This is my struggle. I go back and forth.
Unfortunately, I found this great and awesome path and still choose to turn from it every once in awhile. It’s not a constant fire, but not because God skips out and isn’t faithful (1 Corinthians 1:9 God, who has called you into fellowship with his Son Jesus Christ our Lord, is faithful.), but because of our own nature. I find other things and give them more focus than I give God.
I form idols out of everything else instead of looking to what is eternal and truly of benefit.
I lose my desire to read. I exchange my close walk with God for a distant one. I become deaf to his speaking. And I turn off the path. I don't lose my faith, but I do let it grow cool.
At that point, people talk to me about God and I’d speak in return with a shell of the excitement I could have had.
Naturally, my thoughts become more bitter than positive. I grow a little uncomfortable when my brother at my workplace asks me about my walk. I begin to see more negative in my job.
I try to spend time with friends to try to help my void. I attempt to smile when I don’t feel like it.
My joy and my definite sense of direction fail me. I couldn’t manufacture that by any means.
I truly believe that the void becomes even greater after you've filled it with God and let it drain down.
I look in many directions to solve my problems, but don’t stop to realize that my solution has been walking beside me the whole time. He was waiting for me to stop ignoring him so much.
I finally break free of my torments when I pick my Bible up again and don't read superficially as I had been, but instead give it my honest consideration and attention.The interesting thing about the Word is that it won’t help you unless you give yourself over to it. At that point, the Word comes alive and speaks to your Spirit. It shines light into humanity's dark existence. It gives you your direction back. It is my hope.
Hoping without seeking is a waste of time.
Monday, May 23, 2005
Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith - A Movie Worth Remembering
I have seen it! I nearly cried. The emotion takes you for a ride. I felt the anger and I felt the sorrow. I can't reveal too much here, for fear that I might ruin it for those of you who have not seen it, so I'll tell you a little about what happened when I went to see it.I went with my little sister Cyndi. She'd never seen any of the Star Wars movies, so when we got there at 7:50 a.m. for the 9:45 a.m. showing, I caught her up on the other movies.
We didn't see anybody dressed up as Darth Vader or Obi Wan, but we did see a little kid dressed like a Jedi. I know I know...there's a need that I must fill and I intend to dress up as Obi Wan one of the times I go to see it.
At any rate, let me tell you about my friend Mark Zappia. He and I used to work together at the City of Hesperia and he's who got me into Star Wars. I'd never really cared before I met him, but once we started talking about it I was infected by his passion for the stories and I never turned back. With the new found appreciation for the saga and having seen Episodes I and II separately, we decided that when Episode III came out that we'd see it together.
Mark and I haven't talked a great deal since I left the City of Hesperia, but we've kept in touch through the occasional radio conversation or the chance meeting at a water district/department function. Every time we've spoken though, we've talked about Star Wars in some form or another. I call him Jedi Master, for he taught me the ways of the fire hydrant force.
Now, amazingly, when we sat down and were waiting for the movie I caught site of my old friend Mark Zappia walking through the theater with his five year old son. A padawan who'd turned jedi a long time ago called out to his master, with whom he'd parted ways a long time ago. Two old friends, who said they'd see the movie together, by chance, saw the movie together.
Having my little sister there, experiencing the thrill of Star Wars for the first time, and my old friend that gave me the inspiration to experience Star Wars so long ago was more than I could've ever asked for. And there Mark was, with his little boy, bringing him into the world of Star Wars too.
So, my thoughts on Star Wars? It was a movie worth remembering, because I got to share it with people I love.
Saturday, May 07, 2005
Forsaken Roots
Forsaken Roots
My mom emailed me the link you see above. I've heard all the things stated there said before. In fact, most of the same information was stated in a sermon I heard about a year ago on CSN International. It was a very good sermon with quite a few more points and in depth descriptions of our founding fathers.
I truly believe that we've lost something in this country by attempting to appease instead of tolerating. The people who come here wishing to practice their religion can do so, but to change my country so as to remove the Christian principles it was founded on creates a problem. This IS a Christian nation, or was. It wasn't supposed to be a nation completely governed by its own determination of right and wrong. Our foundation is on Jesus Christ, the Ten Commandments, and the Bible.
My mom emailed me the link you see above. I've heard all the things stated there said before. In fact, most of the same information was stated in a sermon I heard about a year ago on CSN International. It was a very good sermon with quite a few more points and in depth descriptions of our founding fathers.
I truly believe that we've lost something in this country by attempting to appease instead of tolerating. The people who come here wishing to practice their religion can do so, but to change my country so as to remove the Christian principles it was founded on creates a problem. This IS a Christian nation, or was. It wasn't supposed to be a nation completely governed by its own determination of right and wrong. Our foundation is on Jesus Christ, the Ten Commandments, and the Bible.
Sunday, April 10, 2005
This Is The Day The Lord Has Made
Alright, here's the thing. I've been working on the Blessed X quite a bit. I want to make it a popular place to go, but it doesn't seem to be drawing much traffic. I know my mom goes there and Mike goes there, and Idhrendur, but the rest of you...I don't know about you. Go, ask questions, help by giving us material to write on. This way, we can build a great information source. I hope you all will work with me to build it into the site I want it to be.
In other news: we went to see the poppy reserve again today--we went a few weeks ago on a motorcycle ride--and to my surprise, it had apparently changed to the fox-tail reserve, because there were almost no poppies to speak of. It was very disappointing. It was a fun trip anyway however, because I love the heck out of my in-laws Bonnie and Jim. It was great to spend time with them.
I jogged today when we got home. I actually pushed myself very hard. It got to the point where I was very out of breath, but I pushed myself around a cul-de-sac. It wasn't just any cul-de-sac however, it was a climb up a very steep hill and back down. I didn't think I was going to make it, but I did, and since I made it, though I was breathing asthmatically, I decided to push myself even harder and make the jog all the way back to my house, bypassing my normal warmdown point.
I felt as though I was about to pass out when I jogged up my drive way and onto my porch. I walked to the front door, knocked, and when Maggie answered I had her come outside with me for a little bit of a walk around the neighborhood for my warmdown. I was quite proud of myself for having done so well, but I began to break out in a cough that escalated as the night went on. Unfortunately, I think I pushed myself a little too hard. Next time I'll stop a little sooner to save myself from the choking feeling that overcame me.
I experimented with my dinner tonight. We decided to be informal. Maggs ate cereal and I made scrambled eggs. I didn't make normal scrambled eggs though...I took a little oil (I found out that it was too much), a little worschtishire sauce, a little lemon juice, a little mustard, a little pepper, some parsley, and some ground garlic and mixed it all in with my eggs. They turned out very tasty, but with a weird consistency. They had the appearance of yellow grits. It didn't phase me much. I had them with toast and they were good.
Now I'm lying in bed typing away on my laptop. I just decided to share a little about my day. I should go to sleep now. G'night all.
In other news: we went to see the poppy reserve again today--we went a few weeks ago on a motorcycle ride--and to my surprise, it had apparently changed to the fox-tail reserve, because there were almost no poppies to speak of. It was very disappointing. It was a fun trip anyway however, because I love the heck out of my in-laws Bonnie and Jim. It was great to spend time with them.
I jogged today when we got home. I actually pushed myself very hard. It got to the point where I was very out of breath, but I pushed myself around a cul-de-sac. It wasn't just any cul-de-sac however, it was a climb up a very steep hill and back down. I didn't think I was going to make it, but I did, and since I made it, though I was breathing asthmatically, I decided to push myself even harder and make the jog all the way back to my house, bypassing my normal warmdown point.
I felt as though I was about to pass out when I jogged up my drive way and onto my porch. I walked to the front door, knocked, and when Maggie answered I had her come outside with me for a little bit of a walk around the neighborhood for my warmdown. I was quite proud of myself for having done so well, but I began to break out in a cough that escalated as the night went on. Unfortunately, I think I pushed myself a little too hard. Next time I'll stop a little sooner to save myself from the choking feeling that overcame me.
I experimented with my dinner tonight. We decided to be informal. Maggs ate cereal and I made scrambled eggs. I didn't make normal scrambled eggs though...I took a little oil (I found out that it was too much), a little worschtishire sauce, a little lemon juice, a little mustard, a little pepper, some parsley, and some ground garlic and mixed it all in with my eggs. They turned out very tasty, but with a weird consistency. They had the appearance of yellow grits. It didn't phase me much. I had them with toast and they were good.
Now I'm lying in bed typing away on my laptop. I just decided to share a little about my day. I should go to sleep now. G'night all.
Friday, April 08, 2005
The Blessed X
Ladies and Gentlemen! We have a new atracción! The Blessed X Website. Check it out. I plan to build, with the help of a few others, a site filled with questions and answers to any question concerning the faith. We've got a few posts already and are planning on much much more. I want to make the archives searchable so that people who have a specific question that has already been answered can search the database of prior posts to find their answer. Anyway, go, visit, have fun. Ask questions. Post comments. Tell your friends, neighbors, and enemies. Let's make this website come alive with debate, conversation, and the breath of God.
Click Here To Visit The Blessed X
Click Here To Visit The Blessed X
Saturday, March 26, 2005
Today
Today was a good day. Maggie and I went over to her parent's house and had lunch. All total, there were sixteen people, which is interesting because last night my mom served dinner to sixteen people because Ryan (Cyndi's boyfriend) had his family over to meet our family. Both my mom and Bonnie are incredible hostesses to have served, coincedentally, sixteen people.
At any rate, today we met Al for the first time. Al is Alicia's new boyfriend. Alicia is Maggie's sister. I was very impressed with him during just the short time we conversed today. He has a good sense of humor. His family seems nice too. He brought his two sons and his daughter. Jeremy and Rachel came also (Maggie's brother and his wife) and they brought three of their kids: Jade, Jaylin, and Rylan. I was amazed to see how big Rylan is getting. He's two years old and could take on any five year old. Sierra and Cheyanne (Alicia's daughters) were there too.
All total, there were sixteen of us today. Bonnie decided that they need to buy more chairs and a bigger table. It was fun and the food was good (the most important part).
At the end of the day Mike came over and we watched the series of animated shorts for the Star Wars bridge between Episodes 2 and 3. They were awesome. I couldn't believe how much I got into them. At first I thought the animation wasn't very good and that the story was a little dumb, but it quickly got cool and I changed my mind. The usage of the force gave me chills. I'm really looking forward to May 19th: the day Episode 3 comes to fruition. I saw the latest trailer when we went to see Robots...and I almost cried. It looks so incredibly awesome.
Mike and I decided that when we both become rich, we're going to buy the rights to Star Wars and redo the movies. Our first revision will take place at the beginning of Episode 1, when Qui-Gon Jinn runs into Jar Jar Binks, instead of having Jar Jar become a key character, we're going to have Qui-Gon get startled and accidentally chop his head off with his light saber. I gaurantee you that this small change will improve Episode 1 ten fold.
Enough rambling. Thanks for reading. I haven't done an update about what I did during my day in a long time, so I hope you enjoyed it. Goodnight all.
At any rate, today we met Al for the first time. Al is Alicia's new boyfriend. Alicia is Maggie's sister. I was very impressed with him during just the short time we conversed today. He has a good sense of humor. His family seems nice too. He brought his two sons and his daughter. Jeremy and Rachel came also (Maggie's brother and his wife) and they brought three of their kids: Jade, Jaylin, and Rylan. I was amazed to see how big Rylan is getting. He's two years old and could take on any five year old. Sierra and Cheyanne (Alicia's daughters) were there too.
All total, there were sixteen of us today. Bonnie decided that they need to buy more chairs and a bigger table. It was fun and the food was good (the most important part).
At the end of the day Mike came over and we watched the series of animated shorts for the Star Wars bridge between Episodes 2 and 3. They were awesome. I couldn't believe how much I got into them. At first I thought the animation wasn't very good and that the story was a little dumb, but it quickly got cool and I changed my mind. The usage of the force gave me chills. I'm really looking forward to May 19th: the day Episode 3 comes to fruition. I saw the latest trailer when we went to see Robots...and I almost cried. It looks so incredibly awesome.
Mike and I decided that when we both become rich, we're going to buy the rights to Star Wars and redo the movies. Our first revision will take place at the beginning of Episode 1, when Qui-Gon Jinn runs into Jar Jar Binks, instead of having Jar Jar become a key character, we're going to have Qui-Gon get startled and accidentally chop his head off with his light saber. I gaurantee you that this small change will improve Episode 1 ten fold.
Enough rambling. Thanks for reading. I haven't done an update about what I did during my day in a long time, so I hope you enjoyed it. Goodnight all.
What Happened To Your Enthusiasm
When he came near the place where the road goes down the Mount of Olives, the whole crowd of disciples began joyfully to praise God in loud voices for all the miracles they had seen: “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!” “Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!”
Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to Jesus, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples!”
“I tell you,” he replied, “if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.”
~Luke
Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to Jesus, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples!”
“I tell you,” he replied, “if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.”
~Luke
Friday, March 18, 2005
Life Is Of No Consequence
Terry Shaivo's feeding tube has been removed and the ACLJ seems to be losing a right-to-life battle. The case has drawn out for over a decade and has been championed by pro-life, anti-abortionist, Christian activists.
To get involved with the work to save her life, go here.
To read today's story, go here.
I recommend going and siging the petition quickly. The faster we get this done, the better. You need to act now if you believe in the sanctity of life. This will warrant the right-to-death movement in our country and the value of life will continue to go down. Make a difference now.
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Writing Without Boundary
PLEASE COMMENT ON THIS POST
Hey friends. My buddy Aaron has written and interesting and original story that I posted below. It is a first draft, so it holds rough edges and room for improvement. He asks that as you read it, you understand that it is raw and unrefined. I admit that I've never posted anybody's writing on my blog before, but this story struck me as being good enough to share, so here it is.
Written by A. D. Gansky
Email A.D. Gansky
Go to his blog
The Story of a Man
If I were to tell you a story of a man, a hypothetical story, you would not judge that man if you knew it was only a story. You would not judge him because you do not know him, and he is not real, and the story is only hypothetical. It is when he becomes real, and the story genuine, that you start to worry. You would be concerned if this story was not hypothetical but were in fact, true.
This man, in this hypothetical story, stands in line at a market in a small town. It is a retirement community in the middle of the desert where it is warm, often hot, and very arid. It is good for seniors, has a golf course of the finest design, tennis courts and a pool. There are a few kids from younger families that have moved here to get out of the city. This is not a real town. It does not exist.
This market, which also is not real, hides their sparse supply of condoms. The man who stands in line with a bag of ice wants to buy a few because he is out. He is embarrassed by this thought. It is difficult to buy those here because of the population. In line in front of him is a woman approaching eighty. He knows because he attends church with her. She likes to use exact change and counts pennies with arthritic fingers. Her knuckles are swollen and red like a short range of active volcanoes.
Behind him are two Jr. High students from the class he taught last year. They hold skateboards and candy bars, wear baggy clothes and bright colored hats. The hats, as is the fashion, are turned sideways, perhaps as a sign of disrespect for authority. They did not do well in the man’s class, nor did they care. They avoid eye contact with him, afraid he might lecture them on the evils of skateboarding. That is the furthest thing from his mind.
The old woman, who is only hypothetical and is not real, finishes counting her change, takes her receipt and her newspaper, and walks through the door, which is held open by a polite manager whose smile never leaves his face. Another manager, more dubious than the first, watches the students behind the man very closely.
The man sets the ice on the counter and looks at the cashier. She lives a few doors down from him. He sees her many times a week. Today, he looks past her to the last box of condoms in the store. They are old and look uncomfortable. “Another shower?” the woman asks. She was understated in her beauty, subtle with her seductive eyes. Her hair was pulled tight into a ponytail. Her skin was fair, peaches and cream, and unblemished. Her lips were well defined with a pink lipstick, applied by a skilled hand. Her name plate read “Sally” but he knew differently. She only wore that because she left her name pin at home. Her real name is Gale. “How far along is she now, eight months?”
The man nods and admired the soft sweater she wore under her work apron. The woman leans over the counter, smiles and says, “I hope he gets your eyes.” At this, the man returns the smile, his only a shadow of hers. There is confidence in his, maybe a little arrogance. She doesn’t seem to mind. He tells her, a whisper in her ear, that she already has his eyes. They giggle at the private joke. The students behind the man are too busy talking about the latest rap album to notice. The managers had all turned away. No one else is in the market. Gale hands him his change. He took it and let his thumb gently trace hers. “Have a nice day,” she called after him. The man, who is not real and is only hypothetical, assured her that he would.
You try not to judge people before you know them, but you still do. Already you have made assumptions about this man and this woman who, as I have already said, are not real. Still, you wonder if they are. They do not exist, but you feel as if you know enough to make a judgment. I’ve not given you the whole story, and you have already drawn your own conclusions. It would be quite meaningless for me to go on. However, for the sake of the story, as hypothetical as it is, I will continue and hope that you will give the man another chance.
He pulls up to his house where there are five cars parked. There are more on the next street but the rules of this made-up town prohibit too many vehicles from parking at one residence. The man has already been fined once this week and has no desire to incur more fees. He parks in the garage, moves the cat from the doorway with his foot more forcefully than necessary. He steps inside, drops off the bag of ice in the kitchen, and begins to pour drinks for the guest. Since his wife is pregnant, no alcohol is served. Instead, there are sodas of all sorts, especially orange-cream. It is his wife’s favorite and he enjoys it too. It is one of the few things this couple still enjoys together. The man thinks back to a time when he was happy with his wife. They were younger and more attractive. Age had set in around her hips and in the creases near his eyes. He still loves her, and tells her that each day. He loves the baby too, and can’t wait until it’s born. He is eager to meet his son. Though his wife wanted to name the son after him, the man refused. He said it would be highly inappropriate, a perverse idea, and would make him quite uncomfortable. This made his wife sad and a little angry with herself.
The man’s father slaps him on the shoulder. He is very proud that his son has finally given him a grandson. He warns the man that he is likely to spoil the child, as is the child’s grandmother.
The man says he expects nothing less, excuses himself, goes to the bathroom and throws up. It is a loud ordeal that the whole crowd, who is also made up, could hear. They are concerned for his well-being and send the wife in to check on him. He tells her that he is fine, just a little embarrassed. He thinks he may have picked something up – maybe the flu from one of his students at school. She asks if that is true and he says no. What then? Nothing – he doesn’t feel well. He pushes past her and walks to the back bedroom to lie down and sleep.
Now you are wondering if you have misjudged the situation. You are still sure that you don’t like this man. You are convinced that he is cheating, and has been cheating on his wife. You think it’s the guilt, maybe, that has him throwing up. You think maybe he has some disease that he picked up from a random woman on the street, maybe even a hooker.
Again, you are too quick. The story is not done and the ending hasn’t been told. Until then, you cannot judge, no matter how much you wish to. You must hear the whole story, understand that it is just a story. It is not real. This never happened. You need to know that. When you think it is real, you will be a little uneasy perhaps. It is okay to feel that way, but you shouldn’t. It is not real.
The man wakes up from his nap and the crowd is gone. It is late at night now, the people left hours ago. His wife didn’t want to wake him because he was sleeping so soundly. It was nice of her, and he loves her for it. He still is not feeling well and decides that a warm shower might ease his stomach. He steps in the hot stream of water and lets the steam clear his head. He takes his wife’s shampoo, opens the cap and smells it. It reminds him of her, of the first time they made love. He does this each time he showers, and each time he is reminded of how much, despite her aging, despite her sins, he still loves her. But the man is not perfect. He regrets that he is not, but he is unequipped to deal with the events of the last year.
When he remembers that he’s not made love to his wife in over a year he becomes ill again, throwing up in the shower and collapsing to his knees. His wife waddles in and calls for him. “Are you okay,” she asks as she pulls back the shower curtain. She sees him huddled on the floor of the shower, knees pulled to his chest, shaking. “My god,” she says, but she doesn’t mean it. “We should go to the hospital.”
The man says no. Instead, he makes himself soup while she catches up on her television shows. He goes back to the room and watches the game. He is asleep again by eight. Sometime later in the evening, maybe eleven, his wife struggles into the bed. Her weight is awkward and she complains that she can’t sleep on her side. She grumbles about her back and her difficulty sleeping. He thinks she did this to herself, and he is partially right.
Again – you try to decide who is at fault, and what this “sin” is. You don’t know, but you are putting the pieces together. Now it seems as if the baby is not his. In this case you must determine if the man is justified in having an affair, as you assume he is. Maybe it is not the affair that is the real “sin”. Perhaps there is something more to this story. You do not know, because you haven’t heard the end. You still think, despite my pleading, that this is real. It isn’t. It is fictional. Maybe there is some truth in it, but largely it is hypothetical.
The man, who is alone because his wife is visiting her sister in Bakersfield, makes a phone call to Gale. She tells him that she doesn’t go into work for another few hours. He invites her over for lunch and asks her to walk, so the car won’t be parked on the street. She arrives ten minutes later. The second she steps through the door, she pushes him back on the couch, straddles him, and begins kissing him passionately. He kisses her back, holding her tightly and whispers that he’s out of condoms. “I don’t care,” Gale says as she unbuttons his shirt. “Maybe I can give you a son that actually belongs to you.”
At this, he pushes her away. This is wrong, he thinks. Gale, who is not real, presses harder. “It’s fine,” she says, “she cheated first.” The man wishes he were somewhere else. He is dubious about his choices. He sits on the couch, his face buried in his hands. She puts an arm around him, then unbuttons her sweater. She runs a hand up his thigh, kisses his neck, and whispers, “She cheated first.” It is against his better judgment, but the man kisses her back. He wishes he had those condoms – but she doesn’t give him time to think.
Soon, they are lying naked on the floor in front of the dim amber glow of a mute television. Her leg is draped over his, her hands gently explore each crevice of his body. He is slightly uncomfortable and imagines for a second, lying here with a son from another man, born by his wife, resting on his chest. The child would not know that it did not belong to him. The family, while curious, would have no reason to doubt. His wife would know. Gale would know. He would know. Is that enough, he wonders. It would be easier to think if Gale’s tongue was not in his ear.
If I told you that the man’s wife was raped, you might want to believe it. The thought makes you uncomfortable, but you might be happy to know that they decided to keep the child and raise it as if it were their own. You might be upset at the thought of a woman being violated in that way. It would explain the situation these two find themselves in.
You wonder if the man is not at fault, but you are eager to place the blame on Gale. You have not heard her story and you are already thinking of words to describe her: “slut,” “whore,” “hussy.” You pick the word, the sentiment remains. You have not heard her story. Perhaps there is a reason for her actions. You do not know. You may not care.
I will tell you that Gale has her own set of problems. Her life, like that of the man and his wife, has been ill-fated. Her decisions, her actions are entirely her own. She has been dealt a bad hand and has played it poorly. This does not excuse her, nor should it. But you don’t care about that. It is easier for you to think less of her so you can think more of the man and more of the wife. It does not matter. The story is only hypothetical.
Gale is not real. When she was eight she had an uncle who was attracted to her. He manipulated his work schedule to spend more time around her. Often, he would pick her up from school. Gale was uncomfortable with him, but was too shy to address her parents. They were busy at work and at play. The kind uncle was more than willing to baby-sit her. When the parents went out of town, he was the first one they called. Gale went to his house and did not leave for five days. He promised her that he was sorry, then threatened her life if she told anyone. Gale was sweaty, scared, and her eyes hurt from crying. She was ashamed and did not speak for several weeks after. Her parents didn’t speak much with her to begin with, so they did not notice. She had a teacher at school who noticed, but he was dismissed from the school because a few students complained about the language he used in the classroom. He soon forgot about Gale.
When she is with the man, Gale forgets about her uncle. There is something about him, his demeanor, his kindness, the danger of dating a married man. It is exciting; he is soothing. She once told him about her uncle. When she did, he held her and apologized for hours. He told her that his wife had a similar experience with her mother’s boyfriend. As awkward as it was to hear the man that held her talk about his wife, she found an awkward comfort in his words. She felt strangely safe, and would voraciously defend that feeling of safety at any cost.
She remembers all of this as she lays next to him beneath the TV. She rolls on top of him, kisses his neck and ears, runs her fingers through his thick black hair. She notices the creases by his eyes and how his eyebrows are a little bushier than most men’s. His lips are thin and are usually chapped. His shoulders are broad, his chest wide and firm. Here, she is comfortable. Here she is safe. She tells him this. He says that he knows.
Now you don’t know what to think. You were quite sure at the beginning of this story that you knew what was right and what was wrong. When you hear the whole story, you begin to doubt. Then, you remember what I’ve told you – this is not real, it is only hypothetical. You worry that most “hypothetical” stories are based in fact, and that the central character generally is the person telling the story. I can assure you that I am not the man. As I said, the man is not real. This story is mostly made-up.
The man’s wife loves her husband very much. Nearly a year ago she had a lapse in judgment when she flew out to New York for a week. Her boss, who flew with her, flattered her. By the end of the flight they were holding hands. She was afraid of being alone. A week close to her boss, who is also married, was better than sleeping alone in a king size bed in a big, frightening city. They booked two rooms and used one.
She felt dirty and guilty, but safe. Since the ordeal with her mother’s boyfriend she had established a pattern of moving from man to man. She thought it was all that she was good for, the only reason anyone liked her. Her husband was the first one to tell her that this was not true. She was immediately attracted to him because he refused to sleep with her before marriage. He knew of her history and didn’t care. It was in the past, he said. Today was a new day. This is why she felt so guilty about her activities in New York.
Her plan, when she realized that she was pregnant, was to immediately go to bed with her husband. Unfortunately, she was fired shortly after. The boss, in a moment riddled by guilt, had confessed to his wife. The wife had called the man, and the man was so infuriated he left for a week. In that time, he thought of having an affair to pay her back. It was a disgusting thought, but he knew of no other way to handle the situation. He was a self-proclaimed emotional cripple. Growing up in a stable home, he was sheltered from adversity and therefore did not learn coping skills. This was an excuse, but he used it effectively, and rationalized his actions in his mind. When Gale showed interest in him, he saw an opportunity to act on his impulse.
Now, a short year later, he feels trapped. He wonders if it’s okay to love two women.
You know about Gale, you know about the wife. Who you do not know about is the man. You wonder if there is something more to his story as well. Maybe there is something about him that would explain his actions. Otherwise, having an affair for the sake of revenge is little more than childish. You say it is an immature and dangerous game. If you were telling this story it would be vastly different. You wouldn’t allow these people to do what they’ve done. The fact is that they did. There is nothing they (or you or I) can do to change it.
The man takes a day off to go fishing. Though there are two man-made lakes fully stocked with fish in the town, which does not exist and is not real, where he lives, he drives two hours to a small mountain community. This community, which is fictional, is built around a lake. The residents are quiet and rarely leave. On a day like today there will be a few fishermen on the shores. The man rows a boat to the middle near a large rock that sticks from the lake like a hitch-hikers thumb. As a child, his father used to take him here. When he married his wife, the man looked forward to the days when he could take his own son to this spot. He wonders if he could take the forthcoming child here. Would he be able to share this special spot with him knowing what he knows?
The man did not have a difficult childhood. His family was supportive and loving, and raised him to be the same way. He loved most anyone and everyone. He wasn’t angry at his wife anymore, but he was still unable to make love to her and he hated himself for it. He hated himself for his affair with Gale. He agrees with you that he was childish and immature. He does not deny, however, that, despite his best efforts, he has learned to love Gale as well. What he is doing is not fair to Gale, his wife, or himself. It is his fault.
He watches the fish swim under his boat. They do not take his bait. They are smarter than he. He likes the fish; he wants to be a fish, to swim all day. Fish do not marry. Fish do not have affairs. Fish do not father children that don’t belong to them. The man wants to tip his boat and see how far down he can swim. He wants to swim to the bottom and never come up. That would be easy. Life is not complex at the bottom of a lake.
Long he sits and looks down as far as he can until the water becomes murky and clouded. It is dark at the bottom. He thinks how nice it would be to look up, toward the light. That would be a better perspective on life. Maybe there is a heaven. Maybe, when he gets there, he will hold his wives son as if it were his own and not be concerned with how the child came to be – only that the child is. Maybe his wife will learn of the affair and forgive him anyway. Maybe, in heaven, he can forgive his wife.
He takes off his shoes, puts his feet in the cool water, looks between his toes at the fish that swim so swiftly. Do they have a heaven?
And now you are sad that the man decided to kill himself. You are amazed at the poor choices he makes. You cannot believe that a man can be so defined by his misfortune. He will not tell you that he is unfortunate. If you asked, he would tell you that he was happy, though his face may say otherwise. He insists that his happiness comes from his wife and his child, though it is only his through adoption. He would tell you that he has two intimate friends – his wife and Gale – and that they know everything. They know because he called them on his way home that day. He did not jump in the lake.
So you are confused. This story is not real, it is only hypothetical. Gale is not real. The wife does not exist. There never was a child. But you know the man. We all know this man. He may live in your town, perhaps next door. It is possible, though you wish to think otherwise, that he lives in your house. You may not be comfortable with that. That is okay. Life is not about our comfort – but you knew that. You knew a lot of things.
My take. I read it and was amazed at its originality and the way it puts the reader into an awkward position. It exploits your automatic responses and as it reveals the character's flaws it reveals your judgmental flaws .
Now that you've read it, Aaron and I ask that you leave comments about it. The comments can range from how you felt when you read it, to improvements you think could be made in the sentence structure. You are not limited to what you can say. Aaron and I both feel that being bound by politeness or avoiding offense restricts you from telling the truth, so be honest. Thanks.
Hey friends. My buddy Aaron has written and interesting and original story that I posted below. It is a first draft, so it holds rough edges and room for improvement. He asks that as you read it, you understand that it is raw and unrefined. I admit that I've never posted anybody's writing on my blog before, but this story struck me as being good enough to share, so here it is.
Written by A. D. Gansky
Email A.D. Gansky
Go to his blog
The Story of a Man
If I were to tell you a story of a man, a hypothetical story, you would not judge that man if you knew it was only a story. You would not judge him because you do not know him, and he is not real, and the story is only hypothetical. It is when he becomes real, and the story genuine, that you start to worry. You would be concerned if this story was not hypothetical but were in fact, true.
This man, in this hypothetical story, stands in line at a market in a small town. It is a retirement community in the middle of the desert where it is warm, often hot, and very arid. It is good for seniors, has a golf course of the finest design, tennis courts and a pool. There are a few kids from younger families that have moved here to get out of the city. This is not a real town. It does not exist.
This market, which also is not real, hides their sparse supply of condoms. The man who stands in line with a bag of ice wants to buy a few because he is out. He is embarrassed by this thought. It is difficult to buy those here because of the population. In line in front of him is a woman approaching eighty. He knows because he attends church with her. She likes to use exact change and counts pennies with arthritic fingers. Her knuckles are swollen and red like a short range of active volcanoes.
Behind him are two Jr. High students from the class he taught last year. They hold skateboards and candy bars, wear baggy clothes and bright colored hats. The hats, as is the fashion, are turned sideways, perhaps as a sign of disrespect for authority. They did not do well in the man’s class, nor did they care. They avoid eye contact with him, afraid he might lecture them on the evils of skateboarding. That is the furthest thing from his mind.
The old woman, who is only hypothetical and is not real, finishes counting her change, takes her receipt and her newspaper, and walks through the door, which is held open by a polite manager whose smile never leaves his face. Another manager, more dubious than the first, watches the students behind the man very closely.
The man sets the ice on the counter and looks at the cashier. She lives a few doors down from him. He sees her many times a week. Today, he looks past her to the last box of condoms in the store. They are old and look uncomfortable. “Another shower?” the woman asks. She was understated in her beauty, subtle with her seductive eyes. Her hair was pulled tight into a ponytail. Her skin was fair, peaches and cream, and unblemished. Her lips were well defined with a pink lipstick, applied by a skilled hand. Her name plate read “Sally” but he knew differently. She only wore that because she left her name pin at home. Her real name is Gale. “How far along is she now, eight months?”
The man nods and admired the soft sweater she wore under her work apron. The woman leans over the counter, smiles and says, “I hope he gets your eyes.” At this, the man returns the smile, his only a shadow of hers. There is confidence in his, maybe a little arrogance. She doesn’t seem to mind. He tells her, a whisper in her ear, that she already has his eyes. They giggle at the private joke. The students behind the man are too busy talking about the latest rap album to notice. The managers had all turned away. No one else is in the market. Gale hands him his change. He took it and let his thumb gently trace hers. “Have a nice day,” she called after him. The man, who is not real and is only hypothetical, assured her that he would.
You try not to judge people before you know them, but you still do. Already you have made assumptions about this man and this woman who, as I have already said, are not real. Still, you wonder if they are. They do not exist, but you feel as if you know enough to make a judgment. I’ve not given you the whole story, and you have already drawn your own conclusions. It would be quite meaningless for me to go on. However, for the sake of the story, as hypothetical as it is, I will continue and hope that you will give the man another chance.
He pulls up to his house where there are five cars parked. There are more on the next street but the rules of this made-up town prohibit too many vehicles from parking at one residence. The man has already been fined once this week and has no desire to incur more fees. He parks in the garage, moves the cat from the doorway with his foot more forcefully than necessary. He steps inside, drops off the bag of ice in the kitchen, and begins to pour drinks for the guest. Since his wife is pregnant, no alcohol is served. Instead, there are sodas of all sorts, especially orange-cream. It is his wife’s favorite and he enjoys it too. It is one of the few things this couple still enjoys together. The man thinks back to a time when he was happy with his wife. They were younger and more attractive. Age had set in around her hips and in the creases near his eyes. He still loves her, and tells her that each day. He loves the baby too, and can’t wait until it’s born. He is eager to meet his son. Though his wife wanted to name the son after him, the man refused. He said it would be highly inappropriate, a perverse idea, and would make him quite uncomfortable. This made his wife sad and a little angry with herself.
The man’s father slaps him on the shoulder. He is very proud that his son has finally given him a grandson. He warns the man that he is likely to spoil the child, as is the child’s grandmother.
The man says he expects nothing less, excuses himself, goes to the bathroom and throws up. It is a loud ordeal that the whole crowd, who is also made up, could hear. They are concerned for his well-being and send the wife in to check on him. He tells her that he is fine, just a little embarrassed. He thinks he may have picked something up – maybe the flu from one of his students at school. She asks if that is true and he says no. What then? Nothing – he doesn’t feel well. He pushes past her and walks to the back bedroom to lie down and sleep.
Now you are wondering if you have misjudged the situation. You are still sure that you don’t like this man. You are convinced that he is cheating, and has been cheating on his wife. You think it’s the guilt, maybe, that has him throwing up. You think maybe he has some disease that he picked up from a random woman on the street, maybe even a hooker.
Again, you are too quick. The story is not done and the ending hasn’t been told. Until then, you cannot judge, no matter how much you wish to. You must hear the whole story, understand that it is just a story. It is not real. This never happened. You need to know that. When you think it is real, you will be a little uneasy perhaps. It is okay to feel that way, but you shouldn’t. It is not real.
The man wakes up from his nap and the crowd is gone. It is late at night now, the people left hours ago. His wife didn’t want to wake him because he was sleeping so soundly. It was nice of her, and he loves her for it. He still is not feeling well and decides that a warm shower might ease his stomach. He steps in the hot stream of water and lets the steam clear his head. He takes his wife’s shampoo, opens the cap and smells it. It reminds him of her, of the first time they made love. He does this each time he showers, and each time he is reminded of how much, despite her aging, despite her sins, he still loves her. But the man is not perfect. He regrets that he is not, but he is unequipped to deal with the events of the last year.
When he remembers that he’s not made love to his wife in over a year he becomes ill again, throwing up in the shower and collapsing to his knees. His wife waddles in and calls for him. “Are you okay,” she asks as she pulls back the shower curtain. She sees him huddled on the floor of the shower, knees pulled to his chest, shaking. “My god,” she says, but she doesn’t mean it. “We should go to the hospital.”
The man says no. Instead, he makes himself soup while she catches up on her television shows. He goes back to the room and watches the game. He is asleep again by eight. Sometime later in the evening, maybe eleven, his wife struggles into the bed. Her weight is awkward and she complains that she can’t sleep on her side. She grumbles about her back and her difficulty sleeping. He thinks she did this to herself, and he is partially right.
Again – you try to decide who is at fault, and what this “sin” is. You don’t know, but you are putting the pieces together. Now it seems as if the baby is not his. In this case you must determine if the man is justified in having an affair, as you assume he is. Maybe it is not the affair that is the real “sin”. Perhaps there is something more to this story. You do not know, because you haven’t heard the end. You still think, despite my pleading, that this is real. It isn’t. It is fictional. Maybe there is some truth in it, but largely it is hypothetical.
The man, who is alone because his wife is visiting her sister in Bakersfield, makes a phone call to Gale. She tells him that she doesn’t go into work for another few hours. He invites her over for lunch and asks her to walk, so the car won’t be parked on the street. She arrives ten minutes later. The second she steps through the door, she pushes him back on the couch, straddles him, and begins kissing him passionately. He kisses her back, holding her tightly and whispers that he’s out of condoms. “I don’t care,” Gale says as she unbuttons his shirt. “Maybe I can give you a son that actually belongs to you.”
At this, he pushes her away. This is wrong, he thinks. Gale, who is not real, presses harder. “It’s fine,” she says, “she cheated first.” The man wishes he were somewhere else. He is dubious about his choices. He sits on the couch, his face buried in his hands. She puts an arm around him, then unbuttons her sweater. She runs a hand up his thigh, kisses his neck, and whispers, “She cheated first.” It is against his better judgment, but the man kisses her back. He wishes he had those condoms – but she doesn’t give him time to think.
Soon, they are lying naked on the floor in front of the dim amber glow of a mute television. Her leg is draped over his, her hands gently explore each crevice of his body. He is slightly uncomfortable and imagines for a second, lying here with a son from another man, born by his wife, resting on his chest. The child would not know that it did not belong to him. The family, while curious, would have no reason to doubt. His wife would know. Gale would know. He would know. Is that enough, he wonders. It would be easier to think if Gale’s tongue was not in his ear.
If I told you that the man’s wife was raped, you might want to believe it. The thought makes you uncomfortable, but you might be happy to know that they decided to keep the child and raise it as if it were their own. You might be upset at the thought of a woman being violated in that way. It would explain the situation these two find themselves in.
You wonder if the man is not at fault, but you are eager to place the blame on Gale. You have not heard her story and you are already thinking of words to describe her: “slut,” “whore,” “hussy.” You pick the word, the sentiment remains. You have not heard her story. Perhaps there is a reason for her actions. You do not know. You may not care.
I will tell you that Gale has her own set of problems. Her life, like that of the man and his wife, has been ill-fated. Her decisions, her actions are entirely her own. She has been dealt a bad hand and has played it poorly. This does not excuse her, nor should it. But you don’t care about that. It is easier for you to think less of her so you can think more of the man and more of the wife. It does not matter. The story is only hypothetical.
Gale is not real. When she was eight she had an uncle who was attracted to her. He manipulated his work schedule to spend more time around her. Often, he would pick her up from school. Gale was uncomfortable with him, but was too shy to address her parents. They were busy at work and at play. The kind uncle was more than willing to baby-sit her. When the parents went out of town, he was the first one they called. Gale went to his house and did not leave for five days. He promised her that he was sorry, then threatened her life if she told anyone. Gale was sweaty, scared, and her eyes hurt from crying. She was ashamed and did not speak for several weeks after. Her parents didn’t speak much with her to begin with, so they did not notice. She had a teacher at school who noticed, but he was dismissed from the school because a few students complained about the language he used in the classroom. He soon forgot about Gale.
When she is with the man, Gale forgets about her uncle. There is something about him, his demeanor, his kindness, the danger of dating a married man. It is exciting; he is soothing. She once told him about her uncle. When she did, he held her and apologized for hours. He told her that his wife had a similar experience with her mother’s boyfriend. As awkward as it was to hear the man that held her talk about his wife, she found an awkward comfort in his words. She felt strangely safe, and would voraciously defend that feeling of safety at any cost.
She remembers all of this as she lays next to him beneath the TV. She rolls on top of him, kisses his neck and ears, runs her fingers through his thick black hair. She notices the creases by his eyes and how his eyebrows are a little bushier than most men’s. His lips are thin and are usually chapped. His shoulders are broad, his chest wide and firm. Here, she is comfortable. Here she is safe. She tells him this. He says that he knows.
Now you don’t know what to think. You were quite sure at the beginning of this story that you knew what was right and what was wrong. When you hear the whole story, you begin to doubt. Then, you remember what I’ve told you – this is not real, it is only hypothetical. You worry that most “hypothetical” stories are based in fact, and that the central character generally is the person telling the story. I can assure you that I am not the man. As I said, the man is not real. This story is mostly made-up.
The man’s wife loves her husband very much. Nearly a year ago she had a lapse in judgment when she flew out to New York for a week. Her boss, who flew with her, flattered her. By the end of the flight they were holding hands. She was afraid of being alone. A week close to her boss, who is also married, was better than sleeping alone in a king size bed in a big, frightening city. They booked two rooms and used one.
She felt dirty and guilty, but safe. Since the ordeal with her mother’s boyfriend she had established a pattern of moving from man to man. She thought it was all that she was good for, the only reason anyone liked her. Her husband was the first one to tell her that this was not true. She was immediately attracted to him because he refused to sleep with her before marriage. He knew of her history and didn’t care. It was in the past, he said. Today was a new day. This is why she felt so guilty about her activities in New York.
Her plan, when she realized that she was pregnant, was to immediately go to bed with her husband. Unfortunately, she was fired shortly after. The boss, in a moment riddled by guilt, had confessed to his wife. The wife had called the man, and the man was so infuriated he left for a week. In that time, he thought of having an affair to pay her back. It was a disgusting thought, but he knew of no other way to handle the situation. He was a self-proclaimed emotional cripple. Growing up in a stable home, he was sheltered from adversity and therefore did not learn coping skills. This was an excuse, but he used it effectively, and rationalized his actions in his mind. When Gale showed interest in him, he saw an opportunity to act on his impulse.
Now, a short year later, he feels trapped. He wonders if it’s okay to love two women.
You know about Gale, you know about the wife. Who you do not know about is the man. You wonder if there is something more to his story as well. Maybe there is something about him that would explain his actions. Otherwise, having an affair for the sake of revenge is little more than childish. You say it is an immature and dangerous game. If you were telling this story it would be vastly different. You wouldn’t allow these people to do what they’ve done. The fact is that they did. There is nothing they (or you or I) can do to change it.
The man takes a day off to go fishing. Though there are two man-made lakes fully stocked with fish in the town, which does not exist and is not real, where he lives, he drives two hours to a small mountain community. This community, which is fictional, is built around a lake. The residents are quiet and rarely leave. On a day like today there will be a few fishermen on the shores. The man rows a boat to the middle near a large rock that sticks from the lake like a hitch-hikers thumb. As a child, his father used to take him here. When he married his wife, the man looked forward to the days when he could take his own son to this spot. He wonders if he could take the forthcoming child here. Would he be able to share this special spot with him knowing what he knows?
The man did not have a difficult childhood. His family was supportive and loving, and raised him to be the same way. He loved most anyone and everyone. He wasn’t angry at his wife anymore, but he was still unable to make love to her and he hated himself for it. He hated himself for his affair with Gale. He agrees with you that he was childish and immature. He does not deny, however, that, despite his best efforts, he has learned to love Gale as well. What he is doing is not fair to Gale, his wife, or himself. It is his fault.
He watches the fish swim under his boat. They do not take his bait. They are smarter than he. He likes the fish; he wants to be a fish, to swim all day. Fish do not marry. Fish do not have affairs. Fish do not father children that don’t belong to them. The man wants to tip his boat and see how far down he can swim. He wants to swim to the bottom and never come up. That would be easy. Life is not complex at the bottom of a lake.
Long he sits and looks down as far as he can until the water becomes murky and clouded. It is dark at the bottom. He thinks how nice it would be to look up, toward the light. That would be a better perspective on life. Maybe there is a heaven. Maybe, when he gets there, he will hold his wives son as if it were his own and not be concerned with how the child came to be – only that the child is. Maybe his wife will learn of the affair and forgive him anyway. Maybe, in heaven, he can forgive his wife.
He takes off his shoes, puts his feet in the cool water, looks between his toes at the fish that swim so swiftly. Do they have a heaven?
And now you are sad that the man decided to kill himself. You are amazed at the poor choices he makes. You cannot believe that a man can be so defined by his misfortune. He will not tell you that he is unfortunate. If you asked, he would tell you that he was happy, though his face may say otherwise. He insists that his happiness comes from his wife and his child, though it is only his through adoption. He would tell you that he has two intimate friends – his wife and Gale – and that they know everything. They know because he called them on his way home that day. He did not jump in the lake.
So you are confused. This story is not real, it is only hypothetical. Gale is not real. The wife does not exist. There never was a child. But you know the man. We all know this man. He may live in your town, perhaps next door. It is possible, though you wish to think otherwise, that he lives in your house. You may not be comfortable with that. That is okay. Life is not about our comfort – but you knew that. You knew a lot of things.
My take. I read it and was amazed at its originality and the way it puts the reader into an awkward position. It exploits your automatic responses and as it reveals the character's flaws it reveals your judgmental flaws .
Now that you've read it, Aaron and I ask that you leave comments about it. The comments can range from how you felt when you read it, to improvements you think could be made in the sentence structure. You are not limited to what you can say. Aaron and I both feel that being bound by politeness or avoiding offense restricts you from telling the truth, so be honest. Thanks.
Sunday, March 13, 2005
Monday, March 07, 2005
Ten Commandments
- "You shall have no other gods before me.
- "You shall not make for yourself an idol in the form of anything in heaven above or on the earth beneath or in the waters below. You shall not bow down to them or worship them; for I, the LORD your God, am a jealous God, punishing the children for the sin of the fathers to the third and fourth generation of those who hate me, but showing love to a thousand {generations} of those who love me and keep my commandments.
- "You shall not misuse the name of the LORD your God, for the LORD will not hold anyone guiltless who misuses his name.
- "Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the LORD your God. On it you shall not do any work, neither you, nor your son or daughter, nor your manservant or maidservant, nor your animals, nor the alien within your gates. For in six days the LORD made the heavens and the earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but he rested on the seventh day. Therefore the LORD blessed the Sabbath day and made it holy.
- "Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the LORD your God is giving you.
- "You shall not murder.
- "You shall not commit adultery.
- "You shall not steal.
- "You shall not give false testimony against your neighbor.
- "You shall not covet your neighbor's house. You shall not covet your neighbor's wife, or his manservant or maidservant, his ox or donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbor."
It's important never to forget them. Our country was founded on these principles and stands strongly because of them. They are our foundation. Unfortunately, there is a movement to rewrite history and banish the ten commandments from our memory. The problem with that is, without our foundation, we will fall.
How I pity the world for their quest to rationalize. The path to fornication as a norm, homosexual acceptance, drunkenness, greed, backstabbing, and rejection of God will only lead to disappointment and entropy. A society is not better for it's acceptance of all things detestable. We will fall, as every nation in history has. It will continue in this cycle: morality will rise and the good that it brings will eventually fall again. It is unfortunate however, that we reside in the time of the fall.
It is the Christian responsibility to reverse this deterioration. We are the salt of the earth, but we, I think, is becoming very small. It is assumed that the Christians are the largest and greatest in this world, but I think that many take the name, some go to the churches, and few actually have a relationship with Jesus Christ.
I can't help but feel very sad for the direction we're taking. Many of you are guilty of the same compromise. It's a shame to be so able to make a difference and yet do so little. We're so SELF absorbed and "accepting" that there's no time for God or His work.
Mike
Hey everybody. You all, whoever you are, however busy you may be, or how little you care, need to drop by Mike's blog. He needs lots of comments and visitors to encourage him to continue posting. Make him a regular stop for you, because he posts more than the rest of us and doesn't get enough credit. Click the heading and it'll take you to his blog. Thanks for your support.
Monday, February 28, 2005
Semi-Monthly Apologetics
Tonight is our apologetics study. For those who don't know, apologetics is the defending or proving the truth of Christian doctrines. And stems from the Greek word απολογία or apologia (ap-ol-og-ee'-ah) meaning a plea (“apology”): - answer (for self), clearing of self, defence. We do it every two weeks. It's a study where we sit in a group and talk through our questions. It's awesome. If you're reading this and would like to come, email me and let me know.
Monday, February 21, 2005
Other Experiences
Institute for Creation Research of San Diego. We went for a tour through their museum and I didn't have enough time to read everything there. It was cool though. I gathered tons of literature on everything, so I'll be busy reading that for a few days and the website is filled with educational articles too. It was cool to go because it's been awhile since I've looked at creation and the science behind it. It brought up a few new questions that I have to consider, like the methods used to geometrically gauge distance in the universe, the speculated expansion contrasted with entropy making a big bang theory unlikely, and the order of organization of the celestial bodies. All kinds of cool stuff to consider.
Getting lost. Our journey into downtown San Diego for the first time this weekend proved a navigation headache. We wanted to find Horton Plaza, but the mapquest instructions we printed out were wrong and where they left off, we were lost. It took about an hour to find it finally. We'd been driving around it without knowing it the whole time, but then I happened to be going down F and it led straight into the Plaza parking garage. We were extremely relieved.
The Panda Inn. Once inside the Horton Plaza we hunted around and found the Panda Inn. It's a restaurant owned by the same people that own Panda Express, but it's actually a sit down and the food is of much higher quality. Maggie had chicken fried rice and I had Kon Pow Son Yun or something like that. It was basically Kon Pow with chicken, beef, and shrimp. We got fortune cookies at the end of the meal, but these weren't normal cookies. They were dipped in white chocolate. ::taste buds begin to water again:: The funny thing though: Maggie's cookie didn't have a fortune in it, so I guess her future remains unknown. We made an appointment to see a fortune teller next weekend to clear things up. At any rate, it was a satisfying experience for my taste buds. I would recommend it to anyone looking for some good Chinese food.
Wedding Date. The movie wasn't so bad that I had to walk out, but it wasn't edifying. A few good lines, but not recommendable. It'll leave the box office, get rented by a few people, and be forgotten.
Little Italy. The next day we found ourselves in Little Italy. It was a cool place. Tons of Italiano restaurants. I told Maggie we could make a year out of going to the restaurants there. Lots of shops with weird stuff in them. Artsy expensive shops. We ate at Fillipi's: a restaurante specializing in pizza. Have you ever had pizza that was so cheesy that you could feel your arteries clogging while you ate? That was this pizza. After being defibrillated and checking out a few shops we went over to Horton Plaza again cause now I know where the heck it is. We stopped in a few stores, Sharper Image, Sam Goody, and Bath and Body Works (FOR MAGGIE).
Ben & Jerry's Ice cream. It was mint chocolate chip CHUNK on a chocolate and sprinkles covered cone. I felt sick when I was done eating it, but it was the good kind of sick.
Fish Market. That night we went to the Fish Market across from out hotel. I had Alaskan King Crab, which is wonderful. We went there and I was still feeling full and a little sick from the Ben & Jerry's, but by the time the food was laid before me, I was ready to be eating. Crab is probably one of my favorite foods, if not my favorite. I love eating it, but its only downside is the time it takes to crack it all open and extract its meat. I'm getting faster though and King Crab is pretty easy to crack. Maggie had really good New England Clam Chowder, but she left all the clams in the bowl.
Shark Tale. The movie with the fish and Will Smith doing the voice. We went back to the hotel and decided to pay $12.99 to watch this movie. It's less than a movie out would have cost, but geez! Thirteen bucks for a movie on a little TV? After I was defibrillated again, we watched it. It wasn't the funniest movie ever, but it was alright. I told myself that after spending so much, I couldn't have regrets.
Horizon Christian Fellowship. Sunday morning, to finish off our weekend, we went to Pastor Mike Macintosh's church. I listen to him on the radio all the time and love his sermons, so we looked it up and found where it was. It was a good sermon on the attitude we bring when coming to God. It's not God who turns us away, but us who turn God away. We enjoyed it. Worship was amazingly refreshing. I loved the songs we sang. It was a nice change from the hymns we normally sing. Nothing wrong with hymns, but I enjoy worship music more.
Then we came home. It was a lot of fun and needed to be explained in greater detail, so I took a few minutes this morning to write more down and share with you guys. To cap it all off, we came home to our little doggie. We missed her a lot. At one point in our trip we passed a "doggie beach" where everyone was out playing with their dogs. It reminded us of Sandie. She really is a part of our family. We love her and are happy to be reunited again. ::tear:: Now, on our Monday off back at home, we're out of milk and planning on waffles for breakfast. So, I leave you now as I go to buy milk.
Getting lost. Our journey into downtown San Diego for the first time this weekend proved a navigation headache. We wanted to find Horton Plaza, but the mapquest instructions we printed out were wrong and where they left off, we were lost. It took about an hour to find it finally. We'd been driving around it without knowing it the whole time, but then I happened to be going down F and it led straight into the Plaza parking garage. We were extremely relieved.
The Panda Inn. Once inside the Horton Plaza we hunted around and found the Panda Inn. It's a restaurant owned by the same people that own Panda Express, but it's actually a sit down and the food is of much higher quality. Maggie had chicken fried rice and I had Kon Pow Son Yun or something like that. It was basically Kon Pow with chicken, beef, and shrimp. We got fortune cookies at the end of the meal, but these weren't normal cookies. They were dipped in white chocolate. ::taste buds begin to water again:: The funny thing though: Maggie's cookie didn't have a fortune in it, so I guess her future remains unknown. We made an appointment to see a fortune teller next weekend to clear things up. At any rate, it was a satisfying experience for my taste buds. I would recommend it to anyone looking for some good Chinese food.
Wedding Date. The movie wasn't so bad that I had to walk out, but it wasn't edifying. A few good lines, but not recommendable. It'll leave the box office, get rented by a few people, and be forgotten.
Little Italy. The next day we found ourselves in Little Italy. It was a cool place. Tons of Italiano restaurants. I told Maggie we could make a year out of going to the restaurants there. Lots of shops with weird stuff in them. Artsy expensive shops. We ate at Fillipi's: a restaurante specializing in pizza. Have you ever had pizza that was so cheesy that you could feel your arteries clogging while you ate? That was this pizza. After being defibrillated and checking out a few shops we went over to Horton Plaza again cause now I know where the heck it is. We stopped in a few stores, Sharper Image, Sam Goody, and Bath and Body Works (FOR MAGGIE).
Ben & Jerry's Ice cream. It was mint chocolate chip CHUNK on a chocolate and sprinkles covered cone. I felt sick when I was done eating it, but it was the good kind of sick.
Fish Market. That night we went to the Fish Market across from out hotel. I had Alaskan King Crab, which is wonderful. We went there and I was still feeling full and a little sick from the Ben & Jerry's, but by the time the food was laid before me, I was ready to be eating. Crab is probably one of my favorite foods, if not my favorite. I love eating it, but its only downside is the time it takes to crack it all open and extract its meat. I'm getting faster though and King Crab is pretty easy to crack. Maggie had really good New England Clam Chowder, but she left all the clams in the bowl.
Shark Tale. The movie with the fish and Will Smith doing the voice. We went back to the hotel and decided to pay $12.99 to watch this movie. It's less than a movie out would have cost, but geez! Thirteen bucks for a movie on a little TV? After I was defibrillated again, we watched it. It wasn't the funniest movie ever, but it was alright. I told myself that after spending so much, I couldn't have regrets.
Horizon Christian Fellowship. Sunday morning, to finish off our weekend, we went to Pastor Mike Macintosh's church. I listen to him on the radio all the time and love his sermons, so we looked it up and found where it was. It was a good sermon on the attitude we bring when coming to God. It's not God who turns us away, but us who turn God away. We enjoyed it. Worship was amazingly refreshing. I loved the songs we sang. It was a nice change from the hymns we normally sing. Nothing wrong with hymns, but I enjoy worship music more.
Then we came home. It was a lot of fun and needed to be explained in greater detail, so I took a few minutes this morning to write more down and share with you guys. To cap it all off, we came home to our little doggie. We missed her a lot. At one point in our trip we passed a "doggie beach" where everyone was out playing with their dogs. It reminded us of Sandie. She really is a part of our family. We love her and are happy to be reunited again. ::tear:: Now, on our Monday off back at home, we're out of milk and planning on waffles for breakfast. So, I leave you now as I go to buy milk.
Sunday, February 20, 2005
Love and the San Diego Sunset
It has been some time since I posted last, so no complaints at having to actually stop and read mine now. You've had your break.
Maggie and I are back from San Diego and happy to be home, though welcomed by a drenching downpoor of rain. It was a good weekend away that served to calm us and relieve our stresses. It was our first vacation with just the two of us since our honeymoon two and a half years ago. It was very nice to go and do whatever we wanted, without having to worry about anybody but ourselves. The weather was, however, sunny one moment and pouring the next. Despite its sporadic nature, it didn't hinder us from having fun.
We went to all kinds of interesting stores with outrageously priced weird things. We ate excellent cuisine at very unique restaraunts: my favorite part, of course. And we walked around and talked. Lots of fun.
The trip also left time to write. My book is actually progressing well beyond the first pages I had such a hard time with. I'm encouraged also because I have the inspiration and ideas for so much more. I was struggling with a small bit of writer's block before the trip, but the new atmosphere cleared me right up.
So, all in all, this weekend was an enjoyable and memorable one. I look forward to many more like it. It is a beautiful thing when you are able to be with the one you love in a place set apart from the stresses and struggles of everyday life. I found fun, happiness, and inspiration. My favorite part of the whole weekend was yesterday evening. We parked and watched the sunset together. A gorgeous sunset over the ocean with the one I love; no other thing can be substituted to bring such a unique joy to my heart. I love you Maggs.
Maggie and I are back from San Diego and happy to be home, though welcomed by a drenching downpoor of rain. It was a good weekend away that served to calm us and relieve our stresses. It was our first vacation with just the two of us since our honeymoon two and a half years ago. It was very nice to go and do whatever we wanted, without having to worry about anybody but ourselves. The weather was, however, sunny one moment and pouring the next. Despite its sporadic nature, it didn't hinder us from having fun.
We went to all kinds of interesting stores with outrageously priced weird things. We ate excellent cuisine at very unique restaraunts: my favorite part, of course. And we walked around and talked. Lots of fun.
The trip also left time to write. My book is actually progressing well beyond the first pages I had such a hard time with. I'm encouraged also because I have the inspiration and ideas for so much more. I was struggling with a small bit of writer's block before the trip, but the new atmosphere cleared me right up.
So, all in all, this weekend was an enjoyable and memorable one. I look forward to many more like it. It is a beautiful thing when you are able to be with the one you love in a place set apart from the stresses and struggles of everyday life. I found fun, happiness, and inspiration. My favorite part of the whole weekend was yesterday evening. We parked and watched the sunset together. A gorgeous sunset over the ocean with the one I love; no other thing can be substituted to bring such a unique joy to my heart. I love you Maggs.
Saturday, February 05, 2005
Differing Sensation
The darkness of the light eludes my sight. Our senses belie the obvious existence of the unsubstantiated. There are the things supernatural that evade observation. There also, however, exist different worlds to all people. We know not the perception of others because our knowledge springs from that which only we have seen. The profundity of existence is bound within the mind of man. Colors, lights, smells, tastes, and all sensations are only subjective. Obvious differences exist, which verifies that each of us has been blessed with his own unique perception of created things. Oh how much individuality we have in God to see each thing differently than all others.
Sunday, January 30, 2005
Last Day
Today was my last day as a Youth Director. I've changed my profile occupation to indicate that very thing. It's a bitter sweet sensation. I'm sad that I'm leaving behind some great kids, I won't be teaching in the same way, and I won't have the responsibility to read the Bible to plan lessons twice a week. On the other hand, we're happy to be leaving behind some of the attitudes, we feel God's call in other directions, and I love to read what I want to read in the Bible without it being work. Maggie and I can go on vacations. Our vacation time won't be taken up by camps. We can sit in a Sunday school class and learn again. Stress load will take a dive. I don't like church to become a job and we headed that feeling off just as it began to set in.
There were three high schoolers there today, but they were three of my favorite kids: Cyndi, my most favorite (my little sister), Heidi, and Tyrel. These kids (and a few others) respected me and made me feel welcome. I appreciated that a great deal and always will. The lesson was on taking the things that God taught during my time and actually applying them, but it was a lot like preaching to the choir. Those kids have a great deal of spiritual maturity, love, and desire for God. They are the ones that made it all worth it. For them, I will miss the place of Youth Director.
Today, Pastor Larry asked me to teach a Thursday night adult Bible study. I accepted, though lacking in confidence. I know God will provide. It was a huge comfort to be asked to teach, because it let me know that my teaching days are not over. It's an amazing, exhilarating feeling to teach. I get to see God at work through the words he provides me.
I was actually a little afraid of the change, not knowing my future place in the church, but God is showing me new things now. I am certain that he will continue to take us and use us in his will wherever we go. There is life after Youth Directorship.
My faith and my fire are being rekindled, which came at the perfect time. Often, I would begin to lose sight of that passion while falling into the rhythm of planning lessons, delivering them, and never really trying to learn from them. I allowed myself to get caught up in the disappointment in the few kids that held no respect for me. That will hurt anybody if dwelled on. I wondered why some rejected my attempts to inspire them and beat myself up over it enough to put my fire down to a glowing ember. Now, however, I've learned some important lessons about relying on people to gauge my work. It's not about what the select few think, rather, it is about whether or not I'm doing God's will. If I'm in his will, it doesn't matter if the kids express dissatisfaction. In all likelihood, I've delivered the right lesson, but they won't allow themselves to receive it.
Though a rollercoaster, it was a moment in life that I will never regret. I love God and am excited to see what he'll do next.
There were three high schoolers there today, but they were three of my favorite kids: Cyndi, my most favorite (my little sister), Heidi, and Tyrel. These kids (and a few others) respected me and made me feel welcome. I appreciated that a great deal and always will. The lesson was on taking the things that God taught during my time and actually applying them, but it was a lot like preaching to the choir. Those kids have a great deal of spiritual maturity, love, and desire for God. They are the ones that made it all worth it. For them, I will miss the place of Youth Director.
Today, Pastor Larry asked me to teach a Thursday night adult Bible study. I accepted, though lacking in confidence. I know God will provide. It was a huge comfort to be asked to teach, because it let me know that my teaching days are not over. It's an amazing, exhilarating feeling to teach. I get to see God at work through the words he provides me.
I was actually a little afraid of the change, not knowing my future place in the church, but God is showing me new things now. I am certain that he will continue to take us and use us in his will wherever we go. There is life after Youth Directorship.
My faith and my fire are being rekindled, which came at the perfect time. Often, I would begin to lose sight of that passion while falling into the rhythm of planning lessons, delivering them, and never really trying to learn from them. I allowed myself to get caught up in the disappointment in the few kids that held no respect for me. That will hurt anybody if dwelled on. I wondered why some rejected my attempts to inspire them and beat myself up over it enough to put my fire down to a glowing ember. Now, however, I've learned some important lessons about relying on people to gauge my work. It's not about what the select few think, rather, it is about whether or not I'm doing God's will. If I'm in his will, it doesn't matter if the kids express dissatisfaction. In all likelihood, I've delivered the right lesson, but they won't allow themselves to receive it.
Though a rollercoaster, it was a moment in life that I will never regret. I love God and am excited to see what he'll do next.
Friday, January 14, 2005
The DERBIG Conspiracy
The year was 1945. World War II had diffused, Germany was in ruins, and Hitler's men were being tried for war crimes. Roaming and lurking behind disguise and shadow a society of Nazi scientists, named Der BIG (Der Berlin Intelligenzgruppe: The Berlin Intelligence Group), worked their way from Germany to the shores of America under the guise of the SIS.
The Federal Bureau or Investigation had created a Special Intelligence Service (SIS) Division in June of 1940 which dipped into the Western Hemisphere sending undercover FBI Agents purposed with finding and identifying Axis intelligence agents. Some 1,300 Axis intelligence agents were identified, but only about 10% were prosecuted. Because the FBI extended its hand so far, it was stretched thin. To balance the Bureau, men were recruited overseas. Intensive background checks were conducted and thorough interviews were undertaken, but that could not root out those residing within Der BIG. The members of Der BIG did not exist, therefore, they found it easy to become anyone they pleased. When President Truman ordered the program's end in 1947, several former SIS offices became the backbone of the FBI's foreign liaison efforts. This created the pathway for the members of Der BIG to come to American soil.
Infiltration of the FBI gave way to the group calling themselves Erpressung. They were known only to J. Edgar Hoover and his extremely close friend, Associate Director Clyde Tolson. The Epressung were rumored to have exploited Hoover through blackmail concerning a homosexual relationship with Tolson. Fidelity, Bravery, and Integrity were waning.
The Legal Attaché (Legat) Program that stemmed from the SIS held offices in Canada. Members of Der BIG gave one of these offices their focus. Hoover was forced to allow them to take control of it. It was in the south east corner of Canada in Nova Scotia. Equipment, money, and manpower was channeled to them without question. Hoover made sure that future directors would not be able to trace the funding or equipment, and if they were able to, a small task force he'd created would utilize blackmailing techniques to bring a venturing director to cooperation. Der BIG brought in unknown contractors and built an underground facility just outside of Halifax in forest area to house their experimentation. On January 8th, 1947, the DERBIG facility began to function.
These men, trained and knowledgeable in the art of human experimentation, found themselves desiring the god ship once more. Possessed with the desire to take life and toy with it, they began the systematic abduction of Canadian and American people. Those that tried to oppose, those that tried to investigate, and even those that mistakenly wandered into discovery were silenced by death.
Men were trained and began to develop the same thirst for human experimentation as had the originating members. Experiments included the simplest of experimental muscular enhancement drugs to the worst experimentation of mind control. The DERBIG Conspiracy would have gone unnoticed if it were not for one mistake.
September 19th, 1948, an attempt was made on the life of Roscoe H. Hillenkoetter, the CIA director at the time. DERBIG had undertaken to gather some of the most brilliant and established people in the world to experiment with. These included Nikola Tesla, Director Roscoe H. Hillenkoetter of the CIA, and others. Director Hillenkoetter was nearly kidnapped by a group of men on June 8th, 1948.
After this, he began receiving letters requesting his presence at certain meetings. The letters were filled with threats that his reputation would be destroyed if he disobeyed. Hillenkoetter did not respond favorably to blackmail and began to trace the letters with all the resources he could muster. July 15th, 1948, after receiving a finger print match, Hillenkoetter found a name: R. Hügel, a one time member of the FBI. Hügel had found himself residency in Van Buren Maine. Hillenkoetter trusted no one but himself, so he set out on his own.
July 17th, 1948, Hillenkoetter found a small cabin in Van Buren, owned by Hügel. Hügel, probably the least intelligent of the group, had kept a journal of all that he had done in Der BIG. Hillenkoetter understood the importance of this journal, so he took it, made copies of it, and mailed it to three close friends. Upon arriving home on July 19th, 1948, Hillenkoetter encountered two men waiting for him inside his house. Caught off guard, he ran from them, narrowly evading death.
He knew now that he was in over his head. Employing the resources of the CIA, Hillenkoetter created the top secret ADB (Anti-DERBIG Branch). This branch was given full access to all security areas, full rights to manpower, and complete availability of equipment. Their soul purpose was to investigate, create upheaval, and dismantle the DERBIG Conspiracy. Those within the ADB had no identity, no residency, and all the power of the CIA. Hillenkoetter made certain that the rest of the CIA was kept unaware of the ADB, to ensure its secrecy.
The ADB has been pursuing destruction of the ever expanding DERBIG Conspiracy ever since.
I say this so that you may all see and know the truth. My life is in jeopardy and only the truth can save me. Now you know.
~11847
Saturday, January 01, 2005
One Ring To Rule Them All
I just sat through eleven hours of Lord of the Rings Extended editions. It was awesome.
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