Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
The Yellow Couch
I love this picture. It makes me laugh every time I see it. I stole it from Troy's Blog, but I hope he doesn't mind. It's me and Korey and Troy, back in the day.
Quote Of The Day
Buster: "Mother's becoming too controlling"
Michael: "What tipped you off, when she locked you out on the balcony again?"
Buster: "That was half my fault. I thought I saw a graham cracker out there."
From Arrested Development
Michael: "What tipped you off, when she locked you out on the balcony again?"
Buster: "That was half my fault. I thought I saw a graham cracker out there."
From Arrested Development
Papa Bear
I've had a couple people ask me why I don't post more pictures of me on my blog. I guess the best answer is that I don't take many pictures of me. This is one Nathan took on the weekend, though, and I like it. Perhaps not the most flattering shot of me and I don't remember seeing him take it, but it makes me feel a bit like papa bear... hopefully not overprotective, but, without question, protective. I love my little girl.
Questions And Answers
So following an interesting discussion with John and some reflecting at the retreat on the weekend, I have been wondering a lot about whether I am looking for questions or for answers. Or, stated in other words with tongue firmly in cheek, exactly how post-modern am I?
If you know me, you know that I love questions. I love to consider them, I love to ask them and explore them with other people, and I think that, more than just giving an answer, they can be a very effective tool in leading people to truth and to a greater understanding of what matters. I don't shy away from asking, or answering, tough questions.
At the same time, I don't believe that it's all in the journey, that what matters is only that you are asking the questions, or that the answers are less important. But it has really got me thinking: what is the relative value of a question and an answer?
It was Aristotle who said in his Nicomachean Ethics that, when we discuss any given subject, we would do well to treat it with as much precision as it demands: to expect more is an exercise in futility, and to accept less is foolish. So on a grand scale, here is how I think of it:
The first case is that of an answer without a question. Not that there is no question behind it in principle, but the person receiving the answer has not asked the question that demands it.
I think this can be of some value, especially with children. I don't wait for my daughter to be able to understand everything I explain to her. I teach her about art, about physics, about math and language, and about faith, knowing that much of what she hears will mean nothing to her now... the present value is almost nothing. But there will come a point where she will start to consider these things, and then she will have this storehouse of knowledge available to her. One of my favorite authors, Robertson Davies has written about this in reference to poetry... that teaching children poems they can't understand gives them a store of beauty, mystery, and insight that they will be able to draw upon later, and I agree. In fact, sometimes, without starting with an answer, those questions may never come.
I'm not so sure, though, how closely this parallels the intellectual journey that we are on as adults. If someone is not concerned with the question, how much value is there in giving them the answer? Some, I think, but it is limited. We don't care about what doesn't cost us anything, and without the cost of struggling with an issue, I don't think that having the answer will have a great impact on most people.
Does this mean that we shouldn't bother with answers for people who aren't asking? No, I don't think so. But it does mean that we need to include the questions with the answers, to allow people to consider, think, and explore after the fact, if not before. We don't need to be spoon-fed; we need to be molded, and this cannot come without the conflict that questions bring.
The second case is a question which cannot be answered, or (at least) to which the answer cannot be assured. In my view, this won't be because there is no truth or answer, but may well be because it is not possible for us to know or understand it.
With these questions, if the value is truly in the answer, then we are perhaps better not to even ask the questions - and this is clearly the line some people feel most comfortable taking. "We can't know that" or "People have discussed this for centuries and not had an answer - what do you expect to be different when we talk about it?". They would prefer not to explore what seems unlikely to have a solid outcome.
But I think that there is still value - a lot of value - in exploring these questions, for a number of reasons.
1. Any question that has been answered has, at one time, been a question without an answer. Who is to say that what has not been understood in the past can't be understood now?
2. We get stronger by doing things our body is not capable of doing comfortably. We gain wisdom and an ability to reason by thinking about things which are brains cannot easily contain or comprehend.
3. The exploration of "unsolvable" problems may well lead us to other issues that do have a possible resolution, and without starting on the journey we have no way to know what is down the path. What we do know, though, is that if we are static (spiritually, intellectually, or emotionally) we will discover nothing.
4. These questions force us to acknowledge mystery and uncertainty. For many years, I longed for a black-and-white life. Actions were right or wrong. Theology was sound or heretical. Music was good or crap. Well, I still hold that to be the truth on the music front, but I have learned to see and appreciate and even love mystery in faith. It gives me a more accurate understanding of who God is, relative to who I am, and that is a sobering but healthy thing. That's also the topic of a whole other post...
In the final view, the value of a question without an answer is limited. It may provide an avenue of stimulation, but what I want is not just to get my neurons firing: I want my life to be dynamic, to be transformed and renewed, and without answers I may know that there is a direction that I need to take, but not which one it is. So the time and effort I will devote to these questions is limited.
The third case is a question which can be answered.
For me, this is where the magic happens. When someone is intent on honestly seeking out an answer for a question - regardless of how that answer fits in with their initial ideas - there is an opportunity for growth and maturity and change that takes my breath away. This is what lights me up, when I can explore it on my own or join with others in it. Why is it so special?
First, it starts with a willingness to explore. When we come to an issue with humility and a hunger for truth, we can leave behind our own road maps and truly be ready for change. The stance that I live my life in is "I know, but I might be wrong". I am ready to act, ready to commit to what I believe, but also ready to give it up as I see that I have been mistaken. And this somewhat contradictory position gives me the opportunity to really examine my own beliefs and understanding in a much greater way than either assuming that I have the final word and that it will not change, or that I know nothing and may as well not try to reach any kind of real decision. The willingness to be wrong in search of what is right is powerful, and is a vulnerability that leads not to weakness, but to strength.
Second, it leads us to truth. When we seek , we will find. But without seeking with our whole heart, we will not know the truth. In terms of spiritual truth, without study, and contemplation, and meditation, and prayer, and consultation with wise people, we have no likelihood of ever getting to truth. The reason I am willing to ask the questions are not just because I want to change what I think or understand. It is because I want to know the truth, regardless of where that leads me.
Finally, it gives us grounds for action. Our ideas, and our faith, are proven as they are tested. If we hold them in a vacuum, unexamined and unchallenged, they will never be strong enough to compel us to act on them when circumstances dictate that we should act otherwise. Challenging each other is a first step to being certain of what we believe, of turning knowledge into faith - we do not act on knowledge, but we cannot help but act on real faith. I would rather never enter a search for truth from the "right" position than give up coming away with the truth. The confidence that comes from being shown to be wrong but turning to what is right is far more valuable than the frail ego boost of claiming the knowledge of the truth without being willing to test it.
So let's ask each other questions which need to be asked. Let's seek out the answers, without fear of where those answers may lead us, or where they may be found. But most of all, let's be ready to act, to live, and to be be conformed to the truth we find.
If you know me, you know that I love questions. I love to consider them, I love to ask them and explore them with other people, and I think that, more than just giving an answer, they can be a very effective tool in leading people to truth and to a greater understanding of what matters. I don't shy away from asking, or answering, tough questions.
At the same time, I don't believe that it's all in the journey, that what matters is only that you are asking the questions, or that the answers are less important. But it has really got me thinking: what is the relative value of a question and an answer?
It was Aristotle who said in his Nicomachean Ethics that, when we discuss any given subject, we would do well to treat it with as much precision as it demands: to expect more is an exercise in futility, and to accept less is foolish. So on a grand scale, here is how I think of it:
The first case is that of an answer without a question. Not that there is no question behind it in principle, but the person receiving the answer has not asked the question that demands it.
I think this can be of some value, especially with children. I don't wait for my daughter to be able to understand everything I explain to her. I teach her about art, about physics, about math and language, and about faith, knowing that much of what she hears will mean nothing to her now... the present value is almost nothing. But there will come a point where she will start to consider these things, and then she will have this storehouse of knowledge available to her. One of my favorite authors, Robertson Davies has written about this in reference to poetry... that teaching children poems they can't understand gives them a store of beauty, mystery, and insight that they will be able to draw upon later, and I agree. In fact, sometimes, without starting with an answer, those questions may never come.
I'm not so sure, though, how closely this parallels the intellectual journey that we are on as adults. If someone is not concerned with the question, how much value is there in giving them the answer? Some, I think, but it is limited. We don't care about what doesn't cost us anything, and without the cost of struggling with an issue, I don't think that having the answer will have a great impact on most people.
Does this mean that we shouldn't bother with answers for people who aren't asking? No, I don't think so. But it does mean that we need to include the questions with the answers, to allow people to consider, think, and explore after the fact, if not before. We don't need to be spoon-fed; we need to be molded, and this cannot come without the conflict that questions bring.
The second case is a question which cannot be answered, or (at least) to which the answer cannot be assured. In my view, this won't be because there is no truth or answer, but may well be because it is not possible for us to know or understand it.
With these questions, if the value is truly in the answer, then we are perhaps better not to even ask the questions - and this is clearly the line some people feel most comfortable taking. "We can't know that" or "People have discussed this for centuries and not had an answer - what do you expect to be different when we talk about it?". They would prefer not to explore what seems unlikely to have a solid outcome.
But I think that there is still value - a lot of value - in exploring these questions, for a number of reasons.
1. Any question that has been answered has, at one time, been a question without an answer. Who is to say that what has not been understood in the past can't be understood now?
2. We get stronger by doing things our body is not capable of doing comfortably. We gain wisdom and an ability to reason by thinking about things which are brains cannot easily contain or comprehend.
3. The exploration of "unsolvable" problems may well lead us to other issues that do have a possible resolution, and without starting on the journey we have no way to know what is down the path. What we do know, though, is that if we are static (spiritually, intellectually, or emotionally) we will discover nothing.
4. These questions force us to acknowledge mystery and uncertainty. For many years, I longed for a black-and-white life. Actions were right or wrong. Theology was sound or heretical. Music was good or crap. Well, I still hold that to be the truth on the music front, but I have learned to see and appreciate and even love mystery in faith. It gives me a more accurate understanding of who God is, relative to who I am, and that is a sobering but healthy thing. That's also the topic of a whole other post...
In the final view, the value of a question without an answer is limited. It may provide an avenue of stimulation, but what I want is not just to get my neurons firing: I want my life to be dynamic, to be transformed and renewed, and without answers I may know that there is a direction that I need to take, but not which one it is. So the time and effort I will devote to these questions is limited.
The third case is a question which can be answered.
For me, this is where the magic happens. When someone is intent on honestly seeking out an answer for a question - regardless of how that answer fits in with their initial ideas - there is an opportunity for growth and maturity and change that takes my breath away. This is what lights me up, when I can explore it on my own or join with others in it. Why is it so special?
First, it starts with a willingness to explore. When we come to an issue with humility and a hunger for truth, we can leave behind our own road maps and truly be ready for change. The stance that I live my life in is "I know, but I might be wrong". I am ready to act, ready to commit to what I believe, but also ready to give it up as I see that I have been mistaken. And this somewhat contradictory position gives me the opportunity to really examine my own beliefs and understanding in a much greater way than either assuming that I have the final word and that it will not change, or that I know nothing and may as well not try to reach any kind of real decision. The willingness to be wrong in search of what is right is powerful, and is a vulnerability that leads not to weakness, but to strength.
Second, it leads us to truth. When we seek , we will find. But without seeking with our whole heart, we will not know the truth. In terms of spiritual truth, without study, and contemplation, and meditation, and prayer, and consultation with wise people, we have no likelihood of ever getting to truth. The reason I am willing to ask the questions are not just because I want to change what I think or understand. It is because I want to know the truth, regardless of where that leads me.
Finally, it gives us grounds for action. Our ideas, and our faith, are proven as they are tested. If we hold them in a vacuum, unexamined and unchallenged, they will never be strong enough to compel us to act on them when circumstances dictate that we should act otherwise. Challenging each other is a first step to being certain of what we believe, of turning knowledge into faith - we do not act on knowledge, but we cannot help but act on real faith. I would rather never enter a search for truth from the "right" position than give up coming away with the truth. The confidence that comes from being shown to be wrong but turning to what is right is far more valuable than the frail ego boost of claiming the knowledge of the truth without being willing to test it.
So let's ask each other questions which need to be asked. Let's seek out the answers, without fear of where those answers may lead us, or where they may be found. But most of all, let's be ready to act, to live, and to be be conformed to the truth we find.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Shopping Lists And Putting On Chains
It's interesting seeing what people buy, and I'm always intrigued to see who's got what in the checkout line. I've had some good combinations before, but I think tonights was not too bad.
2 leeks (large)
2 boxes of Pim's chocolate/raspberry cookies
1 bottle of red wine
Now, I think that while the Pim's and the wine may be pretty predictable (if you haven't had these cookies... well, you need to), but the leeks add a lot. First, as a man buying unprepared vegetables, I think that puts me into a pretty special category to start with. But then, leeks are not like peas or lettuce or something that you just wash or steam and serve. They have a bit of mystery to them, and indicate a bit more intention. I like that.
Also worth noting is that I learned how to put the snow chains on my tires this weekend. We were in the mountains, and while the roads were bare and dry on Friday, there was a pretty reasonable amount of snow that fell Saturday and Sunday before we left.
I have often been sad that, as far as I can tell, a lot of the stereotypical male abilities that reach back generations in my family may well die with my dad (which is hopefully not soon). Neither of my brothers or I show much of an inclination towards being able wire our own homes or rebuild an engine. I can put up drywall, but you probably wouldn't want to live in the room after.
So it made me pretty happy to get the chains figured out. I recall pulling them out one other time and, after a few minutes, deciding to just take my chances with the snow. But this time I was determined, and I like that now I know how to get them on. So, the future of Delamont men is perhaps not all without hope.
More reflections on the weekend to come soon, I promise...
2 leeks (large)
2 boxes of Pim's chocolate/raspberry cookies
1 bottle of red wine
Now, I think that while the Pim's and the wine may be pretty predictable (if you haven't had these cookies... well, you need to), but the leeks add a lot. First, as a man buying unprepared vegetables, I think that puts me into a pretty special category to start with. But then, leeks are not like peas or lettuce or something that you just wash or steam and serve. They have a bit of mystery to them, and indicate a bit more intention. I like that.
Also worth noting is that I learned how to put the snow chains on my tires this weekend. We were in the mountains, and while the roads were bare and dry on Friday, there was a pretty reasonable amount of snow that fell Saturday and Sunday before we left.
I have often been sad that, as far as I can tell, a lot of the stereotypical male abilities that reach back generations in my family may well die with my dad (which is hopefully not soon). Neither of my brothers or I show much of an inclination towards being able wire our own homes or rebuild an engine. I can put up drywall, but you probably wouldn't want to live in the room after.
So it made me pretty happy to get the chains figured out. I recall pulling them out one other time and, after a few minutes, deciding to just take my chances with the snow. But this time I was determined, and I like that now I know how to get them on. So, the future of Delamont men is perhaps not all without hope.
More reflections on the weekend to come soon, I promise...
Friday, February 23, 2007
On My Walk To Work
From my walk to work this morning. How can a day that starts like this not go well?
In The News: Montreux and DJ Bobo
Well, there were a couple big announcements today. First, the Montreux Jazz Festival announced that it will only be using two of the three usual venues that they've had for years. Sadly, that means that the casino hall will no longer be used. I only saw one show there - Tony Bennett - and while it would be a stretch to really call the room a concert hall, I was in the front row for this, and the stage was only a couple of steps up, six feet from the seats. It was incredible, especially when he put his mic down and just sang a song with the piano on his own. Stravinsky hall can feel intimate, too, for a 5000-person venue, and I still believe that it's the best venue I've ever been in, but it's a shame to see the casino go.
They also had some good news - no more "jazz". Previously, you had to exchange your Swiss Francs for "Jazz" tokens to buy anything at the festival, which was absolutely insane.It was a terrible idea, and I'm glad they're going to start using real money. I just can't wait until this year's line-up is announced (usually in April or May). Like, bouncing up and down in my seat kind of can't wait. It's going to be good, and I hope that Bryan Adams is playing there again so I can see him twice this year.
And then the other news: the Eurovision Song Contest has revealed that the Swiss entry will be none other than the round-faced, poorly-goateed, Swiss-German-techno-crap-making D.J. Bobo.
If you don't know about Eurovision, let me tell you that it may be the most spectacular entertainment extravaganza in the world. This is the premise: each country in Europe may qualify either by winning regional competitions, be finishing high enough in the previous year, or by paying off the organizers to enter a singer and song from that country. The winner is determined by popluar telephone vote, and the winning country hosts the next year's event.
The reality is that the songs are terrible, the performances are worse, the voting is ALWAYS by block (the noridc countries, the balkans...) and the commentators absolutely rip the thing apart.
It's fantastic, and it may be the most surreal, hilarious thing you see all year. And you need to watch it, so mark your calendar for May 12 at my place, and consider this an invitation - my place at 7:00. Semi-finals will be May 10, so you can show up then, too, if you want. And having D.J. Bobo will only make it that much worse... ironically enough, making it that much better. It's going to be a good year...
[EDIT] Okay, as I looked over this I started to realize that what passes as "news" for me may not be quite what you were expecting. If you are interested in something a little more substantive, can I suggest you check out Josh's blog? Yeah, I think more about who is going to be coming for Country Night than I do about world hunger. That's just the way it is.
They also had some good news - no more "jazz". Previously, you had to exchange your Swiss Francs for "Jazz" tokens to buy anything at the festival, which was absolutely insane.It was a terrible idea, and I'm glad they're going to start using real money. I just can't wait until this year's line-up is announced (usually in April or May). Like, bouncing up and down in my seat kind of can't wait. It's going to be good, and I hope that Bryan Adams is playing there again so I can see him twice this year.
And then the other news: the Eurovision Song Contest has revealed that the Swiss entry will be none other than the round-faced, poorly-goateed, Swiss-German-techno-crap-making D.J. Bobo.
If you don't know about Eurovision, let me tell you that it may be the most spectacular entertainment extravaganza in the world. This is the premise: each country in Europe may qualify either by winning regional competitions, be finishing high enough in the previous year, or by paying off the organizers to enter a singer and song from that country. The winner is determined by popluar telephone vote, and the winning country hosts the next year's event.
The reality is that the songs are terrible, the performances are worse, the voting is ALWAYS by block (the noridc countries, the balkans...) and the commentators absolutely rip the thing apart.
It's fantastic, and it may be the most surreal, hilarious thing you see all year. And you need to watch it, so mark your calendar for May 12 at my place, and consider this an invitation - my place at 7:00. Semi-finals will be May 10, so you can show up then, too, if you want. And having D.J. Bobo will only make it that much worse... ironically enough, making it that much better. It's going to be a good year...
[EDIT] Okay, as I looked over this I started to realize that what passes as "news" for me may not be quite what you were expecting. If you are interested in something a little more substantive, can I suggest you check out Josh's blog? Yeah, I think more about who is going to be coming for Country Night than I do about world hunger. That's just the way it is.
Keys
I am trying to learn a song to play on the piano as I sing it. I've done this before - I even played keyboards and did lead vocals for a band I was in - but not for a while, and this one is particularly tricky with the rhythm in the verses. Oddly enough, I find it much easier to play it with a metronome than without, but that's not really the point.The point is, the keyboard is a tricky instrument. And it doesn't get any respect. And since I know you wouldn't be satisfied with less than the full story, here it is.
I was in the shower, thinking about songs I like to walk to (still to be posted). One of them is Perry Mason, by Ozzy... it's crushingly heavy but soooooooo melodic, and it just grooves. I don't listen to a lot of Ozzy, but when I do, I almost always love it. Anyways, I remember seeing him at the Saddledome ages ago with Brock and Korey. It was a cool show... I think we were three of only about 20 people in the place who weren't stoned and didn't really fit in that well in terms of appearance, but he rocked. *resisting the urge to turn this into a concert review*
Anyways, as much as he wants to be the heavy-metal guy, Ozzy has a lot of keyboard in some of his stuff, and, from our box, we could not only see Ozzy, the guitar player, drummer, and bassist (don't remember who was playing guitar then - not Zakk; the bass player was that huge guy who's now with Metallica; drummer was Mike Bordin or something from Faith No More, in case you were curious). We could see the keyboard player, rocking away - BESIDE THE STAGE. He was playing, he was loving it, but they didn't even put him on the stage. What's the dealio with that?
That, in turn, made me think of a Yngwie Malmstein, who, as I'm sure you know, is a Swedish guitar virtuoso... heavily influenced by fast metal and classical, and more than a little strange. Anyways, I remember a show of one of his concerts in which the chain-smoking keyboard player is playing from on top of his keyboard, laying under it, standing beside it... at one point, Yngwie even chases him around and around it, while both are playing about 100 miles an hour. That guy knew how to be part of the show.
So I say all that to say this: this post is dedicated to the keyboard players I have worked with and enjoyed. Darren, Heidi, Jerry, Kristy, Nathan, Andrea... you guys rock, and don't let the guitar players tell you otherwise.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Creator
It's been a while and I'm in the mood, so this is a serious one. If you're not so interested, there are pictures and some light posts not too far down the page, feel free to come back when you're up for it...
When I read in Genesis that God created us his image, there are a couple of things that jump out to me (and, as usual, the things that jump are the things I don't fully understand):
First, God uses the plural. Let us make man in our image. How does that fit in? Is it because creation happened through and for the Son (the Word)? Is there something about how we are made, male and female, that cannot be captured in a single entity - even a divine one? Is there a shared part of "the image" of God the Father, the Son, and the Spirit that's different from the image of any one of them, and that's the image we were to be in? If so, do we seek out more of one of the three to our detriment?
But the bigger question, for me, is what exactly is that image?
For me to do my job well, I need to know what it is I'm supposed to be. It's not going to help if I go in to work ready to put out fires or bake bread. Yeah, there are people who do those things, but that's not what my role is; in a professional sense, that's not who I am.
It's only when I know who I am supposed to be that I can start to understand what I need to do to become that person. Professionally, this may mean getting training, spending time to better understand parts of the business I'm not so familiar with, or giving up some of my activities that, as much as I enjoy them, don't contribute to getting to that core of who I am meant to be. And I am sure that the same is true personally and spiritually - as much as it is up to me (and that's a whole other post), I must know who I am meant to be before I can become that man.
So when God created us in his image, what did that mean? Who is it that we are supposed to be? What's the image we are meant to bear?
I've heard a lot of theories about this... that it means eternal, that it means designed to live in community, that is means capable of loving and being loved. Unless I am missing something, there is not much in the passage to indicate what aspects of God's image are invoked, unless it is related to our ability or authority to rule over the earth.
I honestly believe that it goes much deeper than any single factor, but the one that resonates with me the most is that, in the midst of the greatest act of creation that would ever be, God created us to be creators, too. Made to sing and draw and dance and sculpt and speak and pray... to long to bring something from nothing, order from chaos, beauty from the tin and dirt of everyday life. Made us to understand and sense possibility... not just in what is seen, but in what is not yet visible. I wonder if this is why I see a purity and beauty even in the creation of people who may not know God, why they can mirror someone they have never seen.
It is at our core. Or, at least, it is at my core. I think that my unquenchable desire to create may be the least tarnished part of who I am. As I change and grow and learn and mature, I see other aspects of who I was fall away - and gladly, as I recognize some of it for what it really is. But the more alive I become, spiritually, the more awake in me is the desire to be a creator. It becomes more focused and purposeful, but it shows no sign of abating or being replaced. I wonder if this is, at least in part, what it means to be in God's image.
When I read in Genesis that God created us his image, there are a couple of things that jump out to me (and, as usual, the things that jump are the things I don't fully understand):
First, God uses the plural. Let us make man in our image. How does that fit in? Is it because creation happened through and for the Son (the Word)? Is there something about how we are made, male and female, that cannot be captured in a single entity - even a divine one? Is there a shared part of "the image" of God the Father, the Son, and the Spirit that's different from the image of any one of them, and that's the image we were to be in? If so, do we seek out more of one of the three to our detriment?
But the bigger question, for me, is what exactly is that image?
For me to do my job well, I need to know what it is I'm supposed to be. It's not going to help if I go in to work ready to put out fires or bake bread. Yeah, there are people who do those things, but that's not what my role is; in a professional sense, that's not who I am.
It's only when I know who I am supposed to be that I can start to understand what I need to do to become that person. Professionally, this may mean getting training, spending time to better understand parts of the business I'm not so familiar with, or giving up some of my activities that, as much as I enjoy them, don't contribute to getting to that core of who I am meant to be. And I am sure that the same is true personally and spiritually - as much as it is up to me (and that's a whole other post), I must know who I am meant to be before I can become that man.
So when God created us in his image, what did that mean? Who is it that we are supposed to be? What's the image we are meant to bear?
I've heard a lot of theories about this... that it means eternal, that it means designed to live in community, that is means capable of loving and being loved. Unless I am missing something, there is not much in the passage to indicate what aspects of God's image are invoked, unless it is related to our ability or authority to rule over the earth.
I honestly believe that it goes much deeper than any single factor, but the one that resonates with me the most is that, in the midst of the greatest act of creation that would ever be, God created us to be creators, too. Made to sing and draw and dance and sculpt and speak and pray... to long to bring something from nothing, order from chaos, beauty from the tin and dirt of everyday life. Made us to understand and sense possibility... not just in what is seen, but in what is not yet visible. I wonder if this is why I see a purity and beauty even in the creation of people who may not know God, why they can mirror someone they have never seen.
It is at our core. Or, at least, it is at my core. I think that my unquenchable desire to create may be the least tarnished part of who I am. As I change and grow and learn and mature, I see other aspects of who I was fall away - and gladly, as I recognize some of it for what it really is. But the more alive I become, spiritually, the more awake in me is the desire to be a creator. It becomes more focused and purposeful, but it shows no sign of abating or being replaced. I wonder if this is, at least in part, what it means to be in God's image.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Wednesday Is Graffiti Day
I got inspired to take pictures of graffiti when I saw the ones Troy took when he was over here visiting me. They were cool. But Troy has a good eye for stuff like that. Nonetheless, it wasn't quite to the point of my Flemish masters that made me decide I would never pick up a paintbrush... it was more like a, "hey, that's cool. I wonder if I could do that?"
So, from now until I run out of pictures, Wednesday is Graffiti day. Enjoy.
So, from now until I run out of pictures, Wednesday is Graffiti day. Enjoy.
Walk This Way (Part I)
I have a lot of rhythm. That can be a good thing... when I'm drumming with a group like my MNB where everyone has good time, it's a very good thing. When I'm sitting on a plane wanting desperately to be playing my drums, my bass... ANYTHING to get out the music that's in me, it's a marginally less good thing. When I'm drumming with someone who has trouble with the whole "count to four" thing, it's actually pretty annoying.
But when it's really like the little girl with the curl in the middle of her forehead* is when I'm walking.
If I get the right song on, I am unstoppable. I am Mick Jagger. I am Henry Rollins. I am David Bowie. It may be a strut, it may be a saunter, it may be a prowl, but when the rhythm is there my feet take on a life of their own and I am just along for the ride.
But then some songs are just a little too quick or a little too slow. I start out walking to the rhythm (because, try as I might, I can't help it) but before long my natural walking speed just has to make itself known. And then it all falls apart. My arms won't move. I trip over shadows. I stumble and limp and generally just scare children and old people. Even if it's a song I love, if it's not the right speed for walking, I have to pass. I don't care when I'm running, and am content to let my legs and my music work separately, but when I'm walking, it has to match up.
And so I was really surprised last week when I put Corinne Bailey Ray onto my stereo from my mp3 player. I never got more than 5 seconds into the album in the time that I've had it, because it's crap for walking. But it's perfect for a party... groovy, spacious, sexy... really, really nice. What else have I missed out on because it's not right to walk to?
So I'm going to have to compile a list of my favorite songs to walk with. Watch this space. And if you have some that work for you, I'd love to hear about them.
* When she was good, she was very, very good; but when she was bad, she was horrid.
But when it's really like the little girl with the curl in the middle of her forehead* is when I'm walking.
If I get the right song on, I am unstoppable. I am Mick Jagger. I am Henry Rollins. I am David Bowie. It may be a strut, it may be a saunter, it may be a prowl, but when the rhythm is there my feet take on a life of their own and I am just along for the ride.
But then some songs are just a little too quick or a little too slow. I start out walking to the rhythm (because, try as I might, I can't help it) but before long my natural walking speed just has to make itself known. And then it all falls apart. My arms won't move. I trip over shadows. I stumble and limp and generally just scare children and old people. Even if it's a song I love, if it's not the right speed for walking, I have to pass. I don't care when I'm running, and am content to let my legs and my music work separately, but when I'm walking, it has to match up.
And so I was really surprised last week when I put Corinne Bailey Ray onto my stereo from my mp3 player. I never got more than 5 seconds into the album in the time that I've had it, because it's crap for walking. But it's perfect for a party... groovy, spacious, sexy... really, really nice. What else have I missed out on because it's not right to walk to?
So I'm going to have to compile a list of my favorite songs to walk with. Watch this space. And if you have some that work for you, I'd love to hear about them.
* When she was good, she was very, very good; but when she was bad, she was horrid.
Boogers
My little chick has had a cold lately. And she has also had an insatiable urge to run up to me from across the room and throw herself into my legs and hug me with all the strength in her little arms. As a result, I have a lot of nose-height spots on whatever pants I happen to wear, about 3 minutes after I put them on.
I've never been so happy to do laundry before.
I've never been so happy to do laundry before.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
I Want (Part II)
To make you think.
To be able to tell if a suit is warm or cool gray before I get it home.
To move mountains.
To make my little girl giggle until she can barely breathe.
To cook for you.
To smile more... but not too much.
To keep my friends.
To make you feel safe.
To win at poker again.
To write a book.
To be able to tell if a suit is warm or cool gray before I get it home.
To move mountains.
To make my little girl giggle until she can barely breathe.
To cook for you.
To smile more... but not too much.
To keep my friends.
To make you feel safe.
To win at poker again.
To write a book.
Have Fur, Will Travel
Taken on my way to work this morning. It's a little blurry, but I think it's still worth posting.
Monday, February 19, 2007
The Wig
Denise was kind enough to bring her Nikon along and let me try it out in Calgary. I celebrated having a great DSLR with a fantastic lens in my hands by taking pictures of a wig on a mannequin. Oh well. I though it was pretty cool, if somewhat creepy.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Regression
Remember then the two bladed razors with "suspension" came out (like the sensor excel)? I watched the commercials and distinctly remember seeing a close-up of a few whiskers being cut. From the close-up, it was clear that the first blade missed the whole bottom part of the whisker. But, thankfully, the second one came along and got it all.
Whew! Good thing it had the second blade, I thought. I better get one.
I used one of these for a long time. Sure, one stroke wasn't quite enough... I would usually end up shaving a few times with the grain and then a few more against, but I like a really close shave. It worked pretty well. Sure the blades are $2 each, but sometimes that's just the price you need to pay.
Then they came out with one with three blades. And right in time, it seems. New animation technology made it possible to determine that while it had seemed that the second blade in fact got the whole whisker, it left some, too. The good news was that they introduced a new razor with three blades. Talk about timing it right for the market - amazing!
When I tried one of these, I noticed there were some drawbacks, though. These blades were even more expensive, but didn't seem to last any longer. And, while you would think it would reduce the number of passes need by a third, it didn't seem to quite work out that way. And it was starting to feel a little more like shaving with someone else holding the razor... not much precision, since it was so wide. In fact, I couldn't even shave properly under my nose. So yeah, I tried it, but stuck to the two-bladed ones.
And it's gone on since then. Four blades, batteries... I think there's a new one that includes an ape who will sign obscenities at you when you cut yourself. And I just saw an add for the Gillette Fusion which has, as far as I can tell from the commercial, 11 blades. It's about 8 inches wide. In the animation, it's at least clear that (finally!) we have the technology to get the last of that whisker in one stroke. Or at least that what I assume... it takes about 3 minutes to get to the end, so I've actually never finished watching. And since it's about the same size as a tennis racket, they've actually added another blade on the back so you can fit it to shave under your nose. Word on the street is if having an additional blade on the back does not prove to be dangerous enough, they have a plan in the works to be able to ship it with blades actually in the handle. Of course, the blades are $27 each, and you have to know the secret handshake to get them unlocked from behind the counter at the store.
Whatever. I'm growing a beard. I'll post picture in August so you can see how it's coming.
Whew! Good thing it had the second blade, I thought. I better get one.
I used one of these for a long time. Sure, one stroke wasn't quite enough... I would usually end up shaving a few times with the grain and then a few more against, but I like a really close shave. It worked pretty well. Sure the blades are $2 each, but sometimes that's just the price you need to pay.
Then they came out with one with three blades. And right in time, it seems. New animation technology made it possible to determine that while it had seemed that the second blade in fact got the whole whisker, it left some, too. The good news was that they introduced a new razor with three blades. Talk about timing it right for the market - amazing!
When I tried one of these, I noticed there were some drawbacks, though. These blades were even more expensive, but didn't seem to last any longer. And, while you would think it would reduce the number of passes need by a third, it didn't seem to quite work out that way. And it was starting to feel a little more like shaving with someone else holding the razor... not much precision, since it was so wide. In fact, I couldn't even shave properly under my nose. So yeah, I tried it, but stuck to the two-bladed ones.
And it's gone on since then. Four blades, batteries... I think there's a new one that includes an ape who will sign obscenities at you when you cut yourself. And I just saw an add for the Gillette Fusion which has, as far as I can tell from the commercial, 11 blades. It's about 8 inches wide. In the animation, it's at least clear that (finally!) we have the technology to get the last of that whisker in one stroke. Or at least that what I assume... it takes about 3 minutes to get to the end, so I've actually never finished watching. And since it's about the same size as a tennis racket, they've actually added another blade on the back so you can fit it to shave under your nose. Word on the street is if having an additional blade on the back does not prove to be dangerous enough, they have a plan in the works to be able to ship it with blades actually in the handle. Of course, the blades are $27 each, and you have to know the secret handshake to get them unlocked from behind the counter at the store.
Whatever. I'm growing a beard. I'll post picture in August so you can see how it's coming.
Friday, February 16, 2007
I Feel Like A Spring
It's a gorgeous day and I'm tired and I'm sick but I feel so alive and happy that I'm almost about to burst. So, since you can't hear me sing from where you are, in celebration of spring (which is here in my little world, if not the world-at-large) here are some pictures I took in the mountains of very, very tiny flowers.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Wedding Plans
No, not mine. And not related to Valentine's day - I was talking to my boss today while waiting for the plane home, and we got onto the subject of friends' weddings, and how they can be the most wonderful or terrible events, just based on a few easy-to-manage variables.
Now, here's the thing you need to not just know but really believe before you read further. I am not anti-social. I like meeting people. I love having people in my home. I love to get to know people, and to care for my friends.
But I am not a big fan of mixing circles. Circles are nice and round and complete just the way they are. If you combine them carefully, you may get a kind of funny-looking 8, but usually you just get a mess.
Do you remember the Seinfeld where George's work friends are going to meet his "regular" friends, and he's concerned that, at the moment of impact of these two universes, he may somehow cease to exist? Well, I think George was a wise man. Maybe less than rigorous in his personal hygiene, but George has some things to say that we need to hear.
So, when you invite me to your wedding, let me sit with the people I know and love. I don't want to meet your Uncle Leroy. And I'm pretty sure that there is someone he would rather be with than me, too. I'm probably never going to see your childhood friends from Ecuador again, and while I'm sure they're lovely people, I want to be with my friends. Now I know - it's not my wedding... it's not all about me. And I can appreciate that. But I also know that you'll have a better time knowing I'm having a good time, and that is not going to happen when everyone else at my table is speaking Dutch. So please... let's just let the circles live, okay? Anyone else with me on this?
Now, here's the thing you need to not just know but really believe before you read further. I am not anti-social. I like meeting people. I love having people in my home. I love to get to know people, and to care for my friends.
But I am not a big fan of mixing circles. Circles are nice and round and complete just the way they are. If you combine them carefully, you may get a kind of funny-looking 8, but usually you just get a mess.
Do you remember the Seinfeld where George's work friends are going to meet his "regular" friends, and he's concerned that, at the moment of impact of these two universes, he may somehow cease to exist? Well, I think George was a wise man. Maybe less than rigorous in his personal hygiene, but George has some things to say that we need to hear.
So, when you invite me to your wedding, let me sit with the people I know and love. I don't want to meet your Uncle Leroy. And I'm pretty sure that there is someone he would rather be with than me, too. I'm probably never going to see your childhood friends from Ecuador again, and while I'm sure they're lovely people, I want to be with my friends. Now I know - it's not my wedding... it's not all about me. And I can appreciate that. But I also know that you'll have a better time knowing I'm having a good time, and that is not going to happen when everyone else at my table is speaking Dutch. So please... let's just let the circles live, okay? Anyone else with me on this?
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
In Celebration Of Valentine's Day
I posted a while ago about what may be one of the most beautiful love songs I've heard in a while, Until You by Dave Barnes.
But on the taxi ride back to the hotel tonight, I was greeted by a one-two punch that was impossible to ignore on a special night like tonight. Girl You Know It's True, by the one and only Milli Vanilli, with a Can't Help Falling In Love With You (the almost unfathomably synthesized UB40 version... who knew reggae could be done so... white?). Wow. I was speechless.
So, in tribute to what could possibly be the worst love song ever performed by two men who didn't actually sing it, I give you, Girl, You Know It's True, in all its glory.
"So what are you doing back?"
"Well, I set back and thought about the days we used to do.
It really mean a lot to me, you mean a lot to me."
"I really mean that much to you?"
"Girl, you know it's true."
I'm in love with you girl 'cause you're on my mind,
you're the one I think about most every time.
And when you crack a smile and ev'rything you do
don't you understand girl this love is true.
You're so sickin' hand, lone sweetin' thing,
that ? like poison up on your skin.
It lightens up my day and that's also true,
together we are one, ? we are two.
To make it all mine, all mine is my desire,
cause you contain a quality, you that I admire.
To put it playin' simple, you rule my world,
so try to understand:
I'm in love girl, I'm so in love girl,
I'm just in love girl, and this is true.
Girl you know it's true,
uh uh uh, I love you.
Yes you know it's true,
uh uh uh, I love you.
Girl you know it's true,
my love - is for you.
Girl you know it's true,
my love - is for you.
This sizzling thing girl, I can't explain,
my emotions starts up when I hear your name.
Maybe a sweet, sweet voice would ring in my ear,
it stimulate my senses, girl when you are near.
And with your positive emotion love making enjoy,
there's no need to bust, it's like a girl and a boy.
These feelings I keep, I often wondering why,
so I thought I might discuss this ? is you and I.
Now what you wear, I don't care,
how ? before, the reason that I like a girl is for what you are.
If I ? think about it, you rule my world,
so try to understand:
I'm in love girl, I'm so in love girl,
I'm just in love girl, and this is true.
Girl you know it's true,
uh uh uh, I love you.
Yes you know it's true,
uh uh uh, I love you.
Girl you know it's true,
my love - is for you.
I'm in love with you girl, I'm in love with you girl [last word repeats]
I'm in love with you, I'm in love with you, I'm in love with you.
Girl you know it's true,
my love - is for you.
Girl you know it's true,
uh uh uh, I love you.
Yes you know it's true,
uh uh uh, I love you.
[EDIT] I should maybe just point out here that to get the full effect, you REALLY need to read these out loud. Especially, the "uh, uh, uh". Trust me on this, and don't worry about what your family or coworkers may be thinking. They may be laughing on the outside, but inside they are secretly envying your confidence and utter disregard for crippling social convention.
But on the taxi ride back to the hotel tonight, I was greeted by a one-two punch that was impossible to ignore on a special night like tonight. Girl You Know It's True, by the one and only Milli Vanilli, with a Can't Help Falling In Love With You (the almost unfathomably synthesized UB40 version... who knew reggae could be done so... white?). Wow. I was speechless.
So, in tribute to what could possibly be the worst love song ever performed by two men who didn't actually sing it, I give you, Girl, You Know It's True, in all its glory.
"So what are you doing back?"
"Well, I set back and thought about the days we used to do.
It really mean a lot to me, you mean a lot to me."
"I really mean that much to you?"
"Girl, you know it's true."
I'm in love with you girl 'cause you're on my mind,
you're the one I think about most every time.
And when you crack a smile and ev'rything you do
don't you understand girl this love is true.
You're so sickin' hand, lone sweetin' thing,
that ? like poison up on your skin.
It lightens up my day and that's also true,
together we are one, ? we are two.
To make it all mine, all mine is my desire,
cause you contain a quality, you that I admire.
To put it playin' simple, you rule my world,
so try to understand:
I'm in love girl, I'm so in love girl,
I'm just in love girl, and this is true.
Girl you know it's true,
uh uh uh, I love you.
Yes you know it's true,
uh uh uh, I love you.
Girl you know it's true,
my love - is for you.
Girl you know it's true,
my love - is for you.
This sizzling thing girl, I can't explain,
my emotions starts up when I hear your name.
Maybe a sweet, sweet voice would ring in my ear,
it stimulate my senses, girl when you are near.
And with your positive emotion love making enjoy,
there's no need to bust, it's like a girl and a boy.
These feelings I keep, I often wondering why,
so I thought I might discuss this ? is you and I.
Now what you wear, I don't care,
how ? before, the reason that I like a girl is for what you are.
If I ? think about it, you rule my world,
so try to understand:
I'm in love girl, I'm so in love girl,
I'm just in love girl, and this is true.
Girl you know it's true,
uh uh uh, I love you.
Yes you know it's true,
uh uh uh, I love you.
Girl you know it's true,
my love - is for you.
I'm in love with you girl, I'm in love with you girl [last word repeats]
I'm in love with you, I'm in love with you, I'm in love with you.
Girl you know it's true,
my love - is for you.
Girl you know it's true,
uh uh uh, I love you.
Yes you know it's true,
uh uh uh, I love you.
[EDIT] I should maybe just point out here that to get the full effect, you REALLY need to read these out loud. Especially, the "uh, uh, uh". Trust me on this, and don't worry about what your family or coworkers may be thinking. They may be laughing on the outside, but inside they are secretly envying your confidence and utter disregard for crippling social convention.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
I Got It Again Tonight
"I know someone who looks just like you!"
Well, at least it's "looks", not "is". I can deal with that, and it was in the context of someone else who looked just like someone else. So, not out of the blue. At least that way I can imagine that maybe it was just something to keep the conversation lively. Or, maybe my twin's really are out there. I didn't ask where, though. Got to save something for the next conversation, right?
I also got: "Nice jacket - very stylish"
Thanks, it's new. I'm pretty happy with it.
"Yeah, you're looking good. Now you just need a mask."
So, if anyone has a good source for masks online (is it wise to buy without trying them on?), apparently I'm in the market. I'm thinking something Nixon-esque may give me the kind of rugged, commanding presence I want. Or Mr. T. I think that's why I'll need to try them on before really deciding. That and to know if, should my nasal passages ever become clear again, I could breathe comfortably through my nose while wearing it.
Well, at least it's "looks", not "is". I can deal with that, and it was in the context of someone else who looked just like someone else. So, not out of the blue. At least that way I can imagine that maybe it was just something to keep the conversation lively. Or, maybe my twin's really are out there. I didn't ask where, though. Got to save something for the next conversation, right?
I also got: "Nice jacket - very stylish"
Thanks, it's new. I'm pretty happy with it.
"Yeah, you're looking good. Now you just need a mask."
So, if anyone has a good source for masks online (is it wise to buy without trying them on?), apparently I'm in the market. I'm thinking something Nixon-esque may give me the kind of rugged, commanding presence I want. Or Mr. T. I think that's why I'll need to try them on before really deciding. That and to know if, should my nasal passages ever become clear again, I could breathe comfortably through my nose while wearing it.
The Clean Air Gnome
A gnome on an air purifier, of course. Which begs the question: how freaked out are you willing to be in order to have your air a little bit cleaner? I don't know about you, but for me, the answer is "not nearly this much". And what, exactly, is he holding? A bucket of clean air? Perhaps all of the pollen he's proudly collected? Maybe it's just the souls of little children. Who knows...
Taken with my phone through a tinted shop window, hence the fabulous quality. But I think the object itself rises well above any slight photographic imperfections.
The Dangers Of Self-Medicating
Today, I squirted eye drops up my nose.
It was bound to happen eventually, I guess. I've had a cold for a while, and while it hasn't been too bad in my throat or chest, I'm dealing with a lot of congestion that I would rather not deal with. I reached for what I thought was a bottle of Otrivin, wandered off to a place where I could use it as directed without losing friends or facing ridicule around the office. When I squirted and snorted, though (and yes, now would be an appropriate time for you to stop and picture that happening), I realized that something was wrong. None of that nasty Otrivin-y flavour in the back of my throat, and certainly nothing that would hint at a lessening of the Manhattan-at-rush-hour kind of congestion in my sinuses.
It could have been worse, I guess. I would rather not think about what Otrivin in my eyes would feel like. I'm not sure, but I can't picture it being good. So this was a wake-up call for me; from now on, I will positively identify anything that I intend to squirt into my body and then double-check to be sure I have the correct orifice lined up. Take a lesson, kids, and don't let this happen to you.
It was bound to happen eventually, I guess. I've had a cold for a while, and while it hasn't been too bad in my throat or chest, I'm dealing with a lot of congestion that I would rather not deal with. I reached for what I thought was a bottle of Otrivin, wandered off to a place where I could use it as directed without losing friends or facing ridicule around the office. When I squirted and snorted, though (and yes, now would be an appropriate time for you to stop and picture that happening), I realized that something was wrong. None of that nasty Otrivin-y flavour in the back of my throat, and certainly nothing that would hint at a lessening of the Manhattan-at-rush-hour kind of congestion in my sinuses.
It could have been worse, I guess. I would rather not think about what Otrivin in my eyes would feel like. I'm not sure, but I can't picture it being good. So this was a wake-up call for me; from now on, I will positively identify anything that I intend to squirt into my body and then double-check to be sure I have the correct orifice lined up. Take a lesson, kids, and don't let this happen to you.
Monday, February 12, 2007
I've Decided
I had tried leaving it open for a few years, but I think I have come to the point of reaching a firm decision. I don't think that rock climbing is going to be for me. I'm not opposed to other people doing it, and I don't find the thought particularly scary, but I'm just not interested. It's been weighing on me, and I'm glad to have reached a little internal resolution about it.
Other things I still want to do: skydive, swim with sharks (but the cheating way, in a cage), explore Hong Kong, get custom-made shoes, see Run DMC, learn to surf
Other things that are just not looking like they're going to make the list: base jumping, bungee jumping, owning an apple product, getting a piercing
Still undecided on: skiing. I've been pretty happy not doing it, but will likely pick it up again in order to let my little chick learn
Other things I still want to do: skydive, swim with sharks (but the cheating way, in a cage), explore Hong Kong, get custom-made shoes, see Run DMC, learn to surf
Other things that are just not looking like they're going to make the list: base jumping, bungee jumping, owning an apple product, getting a piercing
Still undecided on: skiing. I've been pretty happy not doing it, but will likely pick it up again in order to let my little chick learn
Sunday, February 11, 2007
If I'm Going To Be In
...this is not a bad way to do it. Watching a documentary on Mario Testino, who has an absolutely amazing vision. Incredible - I've seen his pictures before, but watching him work is spellbinding. I've also been working (diligently) on finishing off the ice cream in the freezer, visiting Heather's blog (you have read it, right?) and wearing a very fuzzy sweater. Next I'm going to check out Josh's page on the rather strong hunch he's mentioned Barack Obama and I'll have a comment of questionable quality but impeccable timeliness to add. Then I'll play the piano and sing for a while.
So if you've got a Sunday night in on your own, how do you like to spend it?
[EDIT] Okay, no Barack on Josh's page. Hmmmm. And in my quest to not have three new labels for every post, I have attached the label "none of my friends wanted to hang out". In truth, though, I didn't actually extend any invitations for tonight. So if you're reading this and wondering if you're the only one I didn't call to see if you were free, you're not.
[EDIT] Well, it's the 13th, and finally Josh has Obama '08 on his page. What took you so long, man?
So if you've got a Sunday night in on your own, how do you like to spend it?
[EDIT] Okay, no Barack on Josh's page. Hmmmm. And in my quest to not have three new labels for every post, I have attached the label "none of my friends wanted to hang out". In truth, though, I didn't actually extend any invitations for tonight. So if you're reading this and wondering if you're the only one I didn't call to see if you were free, you're not.
[EDIT] Well, it's the 13th, and finally Josh has Obama '08 on his page. What took you so long, man?
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Swiffer Me
I was talking to a friend recently and said that I rarely dream... that I have maybe one dream that I can recall every few months. A couple have turned out to be prescient (or, rather, the same one multiple times), but that's a topic for a whole other post.
Anyway, I've had two dreams in the last week. In one last night, someone was looking around my apartment and saying that it was nice enough, but just not really quite clean. And, sadly, I have to agree. It's been too long since I've really gotten the industrial-strength stuff out and made everything shine. So, today I will clean. And I will have a band practice. And I will do the flyer for our church ski retreat. It's going to be a good day, I think.
Oh, and if the sun actually comes out and the light is decent enough, I hope to get a picture of the real yellow couch to include on this page. Yeah, that would be cool.
[EDIT] Oh, and I know... you just finished reading this and now you're thinking, that's not funny. And it's not insightful. And there aren't even any pictures. Why did he bother to post that? Well, here's the thing. I firmly believe that if I don't at least have some mundane details about my everyday life this ceases to be a blog and becomes a column or something.
But, since I don't want you to be too disappointed that you logged on, here's a picture. It's my friend Fabrice who had his quitting party at work yesterday. It's from a day last summer when we were at the Hotel du Lac in Lugano, and the keyboard player you can see over his shoulder was playing the worst elevator music I have ever heard.Yeah, the music was terrible, but he's a lovely guy, and I hope that his future job turns out to be great.
Anyway, I've had two dreams in the last week. In one last night, someone was looking around my apartment and saying that it was nice enough, but just not really quite clean. And, sadly, I have to agree. It's been too long since I've really gotten the industrial-strength stuff out and made everything shine. So, today I will clean. And I will have a band practice. And I will do the flyer for our church ski retreat. It's going to be a good day, I think.
Oh, and if the sun actually comes out and the light is decent enough, I hope to get a picture of the real yellow couch to include on this page. Yeah, that would be cool.
[EDIT] Oh, and I know... you just finished reading this and now you're thinking, that's not funny. And it's not insightful. And there aren't even any pictures. Why did he bother to post that? Well, here's the thing. I firmly believe that if I don't at least have some mundane details about my everyday life this ceases to be a blog and becomes a column or something.
But, since I don't want you to be too disappointed that you logged on, here's a picture. It's my friend Fabrice who had his quitting party at work yesterday. It's from a day last summer when we were at the Hotel du Lac in Lugano, and the keyboard player you can see over his shoulder was playing the worst elevator music I have ever heard.Yeah, the music was terrible, but he's a lovely guy, and I hope that his future job turns out to be great.
Thursday, February 8, 2007
Do I Know You?
As promised, for Troyhead.
I get this question a lot, in one of two forms.
1. The standard: "You look really familiar. Do I know you?"
I used to actually try to address this head-on. Because, sometimes, they really do know me. I have a memory that, generously speaking, is several steps beyond terrible. There was someone who once stayed at my house for about a week (whose face I can at least picture and whose name might be... Terran? something like that...?) who came up to me about a year later and said "hi" like she knew me. I was in trouble, and I knew it.
Now here's the first reason I choose to just take on the question as legitimate... I am a terrible liar. Thankfully, I haven't taken much opportunity to practice, but when I don't know someone, there is no point in me pretending I do. They'll know. And she knew. So she proceeded to introduce herself (again), to remind me of why, how, and from where we were already acquainted, and carry on the conversation from there. By that point I had started to remember her, and, at least, her story seemed to check out, so I had no reason to doubt her. It was good.
The problem, though, is that I have traveled a lot, and I have met a lot of people who have also traveled a lot. And when I meet one of them in a different context, it gets even stranger. So sometimes I'm back visiting my family in Calgary and someone asks me if they know me (and, actually that should be a dead giveaway... I mean, for anyone who really knew me, I would be the last person they would ask. They'd be more likely to turn and ask a stranger beside us for possible confirmation, or maybe try to find it on the internet. But I digress...) In this case, I end up launching into a rather bizarre routine:
"Well, have you ever been to Geneva? Do you go to church in Calgary... or, rather, did you 7 to 10 years ago? Did I meet you while I was travelling for work? Are you from Toronto? Dubai? Zurich? Do you play in a band? Did you see my band? I've been in Germany a lot. Are you from Germany? Do you work for an airline? Are you into cigars?"
This approach has had it's benefits, I think. First, if it's someone who actually does know me, they probably are able to pick out where from pretty quickly.
Second.... well, I think I need to qualify the second part. As far as I can remember (read this with the "world's worst memory" disclaimer in mind), I have only ever been asked this question by women. Maybe guys have an easier time remembering me. Maybe they just don't care if they remember me. I don't know, but it's always a woman asking. So, second, if she's trying to pick me up, a short rant like that can clear up the "is this going to go anywhere" tension pretty quickly. Generally, by the end, I'm waving my arms around, a little excited, speaking quicker than should be allowed in a public place and about as frightening as I get. Which is not very, but - it turns out, for someone who was married and intent on staying that way - usually enough.
And, of course, that's without even touching on the disturbing issue of why they always ask me if they know me, rather than asking me if I know them. Really... how am I supposed to tell them what they do or don't know? My few (but colorful) experiences with telling people what they do or don't know has never ended happily to date, and I'm not about to head in that direction again without very good reason.
2. The freaky derivative: "I know someone just like you from ________"
Now this one troubles me on a number of fronts.
First, why do they insist on telling me where My Mysterious Twin (MMT) is from? Do they think I'm going to look for him? Like if they say "Topeka" I'll say, "That's impossible!" but if they say "Duluth" I'll ask if his name is Martin? Am I going to plan a series of vacations one day around the sightings I've heard about, hoping to hear more as I close in on ground zero and picking up MMTs to join in the quest as I go? That eventually there will be a small army of us scouring Sydney, looking for the rumoured final one who survived in the outback for a heroic 15 minutes without a sunburn?
Second, this message (which, again, tends to come from women) is usually delivered by someone who has known me less than a week, and frequently within the first 15 minutes of our acquaintance. You don't even know me yet - how can you know someone just like me? Or do you mean he just looks like me? I suppose it could be that they know MMT so well that only a glance at me is enough to confirm it beyond any doubt. But I do find it a bit offensive that they believe I am one-dimensional enough to be known that quickly. I have layers, baby! I take time!
Third, how much like me do you suppose he really is? I mean, if he is truly exactly like me, I am, along with most of humanity, frightened beyond what I can describe in words I'll let my daughter read. Don't get me wrong - I like me well enough, but I'm pretty sure that one of me is enough. And if he's just mostly like me, what is that going to do to our respective odds at making our way in the world? If MMT is like me in every way except that he is fabulous with directions, imagine the problems (or crazy hijinks, if you prefer) that will ensue when someone who knows him entrusts me with the duty of getting them to the hospital on time to deliver the baby. That's just not going to help anyone! And think of his frustration when someone who knows me asks him how to get to the theatre and then goes in the exact opposite direction. No, this is just a no-win situation for anyone involved.
So this, oddly enough, brings us back to Tattoo You. I think one memorable tattoo in the middle of my forehead should be enough to keep me from having to deal with this question for a long, long while. Maybe the Zildjian logo?
I get this question a lot, in one of two forms.
1. The standard: "You look really familiar. Do I know you?"
I used to actually try to address this head-on. Because, sometimes, they really do know me. I have a memory that, generously speaking, is several steps beyond terrible. There was someone who once stayed at my house for about a week (whose face I can at least picture and whose name might be... Terran? something like that...?) who came up to me about a year later and said "hi" like she knew me. I was in trouble, and I knew it.
Now here's the first reason I choose to just take on the question as legitimate... I am a terrible liar. Thankfully, I haven't taken much opportunity to practice, but when I don't know someone, there is no point in me pretending I do. They'll know. And she knew. So she proceeded to introduce herself (again), to remind me of why, how, and from where we were already acquainted, and carry on the conversation from there. By that point I had started to remember her, and, at least, her story seemed to check out, so I had no reason to doubt her. It was good.
The problem, though, is that I have traveled a lot, and I have met a lot of people who have also traveled a lot. And when I meet one of them in a different context, it gets even stranger. So sometimes I'm back visiting my family in Calgary and someone asks me if they know me (and, actually that should be a dead giveaway... I mean, for anyone who really knew me, I would be the last person they would ask. They'd be more likely to turn and ask a stranger beside us for possible confirmation, or maybe try to find it on the internet. But I digress...) In this case, I end up launching into a rather bizarre routine:
"Well, have you ever been to Geneva? Do you go to church in Calgary... or, rather, did you 7 to 10 years ago? Did I meet you while I was travelling for work? Are you from Toronto? Dubai? Zurich? Do you play in a band? Did you see my band? I've been in Germany a lot. Are you from Germany? Do you work for an airline? Are you into cigars?"
This approach has had it's benefits, I think. First, if it's someone who actually does know me, they probably are able to pick out where from pretty quickly.
Second.... well, I think I need to qualify the second part. As far as I can remember (read this with the "world's worst memory" disclaimer in mind), I have only ever been asked this question by women. Maybe guys have an easier time remembering me. Maybe they just don't care if they remember me. I don't know, but it's always a woman asking. So, second, if she's trying to pick me up, a short rant like that can clear up the "is this going to go anywhere" tension pretty quickly. Generally, by the end, I'm waving my arms around, a little excited, speaking quicker than should be allowed in a public place and about as frightening as I get. Which is not very, but - it turns out, for someone who was married and intent on staying that way - usually enough.
And, of course, that's without even touching on the disturbing issue of why they always ask me if they know me, rather than asking me if I know them. Really... how am I supposed to tell them what they do or don't know? My few (but colorful) experiences with telling people what they do or don't know has never ended happily to date, and I'm not about to head in that direction again without very good reason.
2. The freaky derivative: "I know someone just like you from ________"
Now this one troubles me on a number of fronts.
First, why do they insist on telling me where My Mysterious Twin (MMT) is from? Do they think I'm going to look for him? Like if they say "Topeka" I'll say, "That's impossible!" but if they say "Duluth" I'll ask if his name is Martin? Am I going to plan a series of vacations one day around the sightings I've heard about, hoping to hear more as I close in on ground zero and picking up MMTs to join in the quest as I go? That eventually there will be a small army of us scouring Sydney, looking for the rumoured final one who survived in the outback for a heroic 15 minutes without a sunburn?
Second, this message (which, again, tends to come from women) is usually delivered by someone who has known me less than a week, and frequently within the first 15 minutes of our acquaintance. You don't even know me yet - how can you know someone just like me? Or do you mean he just looks like me? I suppose it could be that they know MMT so well that only a glance at me is enough to confirm it beyond any doubt. But I do find it a bit offensive that they believe I am one-dimensional enough to be known that quickly. I have layers, baby! I take time!
Third, how much like me do you suppose he really is? I mean, if he is truly exactly like me, I am, along with most of humanity, frightened beyond what I can describe in words I'll let my daughter read. Don't get me wrong - I like me well enough, but I'm pretty sure that one of me is enough. And if he's just mostly like me, what is that going to do to our respective odds at making our way in the world? If MMT is like me in every way except that he is fabulous with directions, imagine the problems (or crazy hijinks, if you prefer) that will ensue when someone who knows him entrusts me with the duty of getting them to the hospital on time to deliver the baby. That's just not going to help anyone! And think of his frustration when someone who knows me asks him how to get to the theatre and then goes in the exact opposite direction. No, this is just a no-win situation for anyone involved.
So this, oddly enough, brings us back to Tattoo You. I think one memorable tattoo in the middle of my forehead should be enough to keep me from having to deal with this question for a long, long while. Maybe the Zildjian logo?
Top Seven U2 Songs
At the last Angry Guys' Night, we did a lot of U2. Mixed in with some bbq'ing, some poker, a few cigars and (of course) the pedicures we went through Rattle & Hum, Zoo TV, and The Singles DVDs. At one point, as "Bad" was playing and I was entering a state of near-ecstasy, Josh commented that it was among his top 7 U2 songs.
Now I don't know about you, but I am used to people saying things like "that's the best beef and kidney pie I've ever eaten" or "that's got to be in the top 10 three-speed bicycles ever made" or things like that, but it is almost always limited to the top thing, in the top 5, top 10, or top 100.
Top 7?
So this one is for you to play along. In the interest of brevity (something dear to my heart, as you know), but to make sure Josh can prove his point, we'll stick to top 7. I'll go first - and for me, I'm considering these as I remember them live, based primarily on how severe the chills are that they send down my spine:
1. Where The Streets Have No Name
2. With Or Without You
3. Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For
4. Bad
5. Pride
6. Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses
7. Beautiful Day
...with Yahweh being a very close contender. Yeah, it's pretty predictable, but I am all about tradition. Who wants to play?
Now I don't know about you, but I am used to people saying things like "that's the best beef and kidney pie I've ever eaten" or "that's got to be in the top 10 three-speed bicycles ever made" or things like that, but it is almost always limited to the top thing, in the top 5, top 10, or top 100.
Top 7?
So this one is for you to play along. In the interest of brevity (something dear to my heart, as you know), but to make sure Josh can prove his point, we'll stick to top 7. I'll go first - and for me, I'm considering these as I remember them live, based primarily on how severe the chills are that they send down my spine:
1. Where The Streets Have No Name
2. With Or Without You
3. Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For
4. Bad
5. Pride
6. Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses
7. Beautiful Day
...with Yahweh being a very close contender. Yeah, it's pretty predictable, but I am all about tradition. Who wants to play?
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
I Will Destroy Swiss Cuisine
I am eating rösti tonight. With parmesaen cheese that Helen brought for the last MNB practice. And chicken curry that Eva made last week for our home group. I haven't decided on a name for it yet - waiting to see if I survive it first. Thanks, ladies.
The Hat Guy
I couldn't honestly say it was the greatest night of my life.
But for a flight back from Lugano, it was very, very special.
As I mentioned in My Commute, I have not seen the Hat Guy for a while. Well, last week, while I was in the security line at the airport, I got a text message from my boss:
"hat guy is here!"
"THE HAT GUY IS HERE!" I screamed to Denis, who was in line with me. Denis has not spent much time in Lugano, so he had never seen the Hat Guy, but we (okay, "I") had been talking about him earlier in the day, so this was a special moment, and I think Denis probably felt that immediately. Noticing the stares of the other passengers in line, I tried, with moderate success, to keep my voice low.
Needless to say, though, I was giddy with excitement, so much so that I barely even protested at the usual strip/cavity search (domestic travel in
He wasn't wearing his hat.
"Do you know where he is?" my boss asked. I scoffed - well, I would have scoffed, had someone else asked the same question - and nodded in his direction. Hat on, hat off... I would know him anywhere. I pointed him out to Denis, who gazed on him with appropriate awe. Did I ever mention I work with great people?
"You should get a picture of him" my boss said.
Now that put me in a tough position. There is no question - I wanted a picture. Very badly, in fact. But before I started taking pictures of strangers on the street I made a little rule for myself. Maybe not everyone would feel flattered by the shots I choose, but I only take them where I see beauty or something unique and wonderful about the person. I don't take pictures to harm people, ever - with or without their knowledge. You know, trying to use my powers for good, not evil, and that kind of thing. And even though I hold the Hat Guy in pretty high esteem, it seemed like this would cross the line. I hesitated.
"Would it violate your moral code?" asked my boss. He considered it. "Tough call," he said, and he shrugged.
As the flight to
It wasn't much, but it was enough to get me onto the plane and into my seat: 3F. As the plane filled up, 3D, right beside me, remained open. François and Denis, who were in 2D and 2F, respectively, turned around to me, their eyes alight: "maybe... he'll be beside you" they whispered in unison, voices trembling. I just shook my head. It would never happen.
And, at that moment, he stepped on to the plane.
It was just as I had imagined it: his hat was on. And his overcoat. And his scarf... he was even with a colleague with the same attire (some sort of uniform? I began to ask questions that, I fear now, will trouble me until I die). And, after removing all that needed to be removed, he sat down in the seat next to me.
"Bonsoir," I croaked.
I heard voices calling to me from the back of the plane, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. Time seemed to slow down, and Poh Ming came up the aisle like a ghost, camera-phone in hand and (as usual) mischievous smile on her face. She looked at Denis, in the seat in front of the Hat Guy.
"Can I take your picture?" she asked? He smiled, and she clicked. And voila:
(Denis' face has been blurred to protect his identity. And Denis may not even be his real name, so don't try to find him. And he's married, anyways.)
Rather than go over the details of the entire rest of the journey, I will just share here some notes which I scribbled onto the napkin that came with my little sandwich as the flight progressed:
- V. polite... apologized for turning off his reading light when I was reading
- Read inflight magazine. Had book, didn't read it. Possibly b/c it was in Italian?
- Used moist towelette immediately, didn't wait until after sandwich. More reckless than he appears?
- No discernible smell
- Asked for 2 sandwiches
- Got 2 sandwiches! "Special" relationship with stewardess?!? To investigate further
- Slept much of trip. Did not snore loud enough to get through "Vertigo"
- Did not drink proseco. Suspicious. Maybe related to second sandwich?
- Very free with shared armrest!
- Had call on voicemail upon arrival. Was not able to get close enough to phone to make out actual content of message.
- Took train into
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
Not A Good Idea
One more sleep and I'm sure he would have realized. *sigh*
Taken with my phone, on the highway.
Monday, February 5, 2007
ENFJ
I was talking to Josh a couple days ago and trying to remember my temperment type, especially thinking about how it impacts my relationships with people around me. So, this post is for him.
Going back and looking at the tests I've done, I'm an ENFJ (extroverted iNtuitive feeling judging... Teacher Idealist within that, if that means anything to you). It's been pretty interesting for me to revisit it a bit and see what the interweb says about me based on how I answer some questions. Certainly not 100% accurate, but rather flattering... I'm sure most of this will find its way onto my CV in one way or another.
Anyone else want to wade in on this?
[EDIT]
So here's another interesting piece of information I found. ..
favored careers:
| casting directory, film critic, wedding planner, work in the performing arts, teacher (art, preschool, elementary), actor, fashion designer, news anchor, fashion merchandisier, school psychologist, broadcaster, stylist, interior designer, event coordinator, restarant owner, childcare worker, hair stylist, film director, counselor, dancer |
disfavored careers:
| race car driver, scientist, computer specialist, airline pilot, computer programmer, financial manager, epidemiologist, truck driver, electrical engineer, software designer, web designer, business consultant, dj, bookseller |
I'm not sure that I am ready to pursue hair-dressing or wedding planning as my career; in any case, according to this I am certainly not well suited to my current job, which, oddly enough, incorporates no less than 6 of the 14 possible disfavored careers, one of which is my actual job title. Hooray!
Quote Of The Day
Tom, if irony were made of strawberries, we'd all be drinking a lot of smoothies right now.
(South Park)
(South Park)
Christmas Potatoes
For our new year's fondue, my family (okay, mostly Jon and Erin) made me a giant baked potato. I really like potatoes, so I took a picture. Nothing says "I love you" like a really, really big potato.
Pictures From Florence
These pictures are from a trip I made with L'Hopper last summer. I love Tuscany, and need to get back... they are mostly people who caught my eye on the street. If you find yourself in one of the pictures, coffee is on me!
Tell Me The Truth
We talked last night at Shema about inclusion and love - and about the fact that the gospel is a message of reconciliation, and that Christ came to include people, not to exclude them. I think that's good, and it's true.
But, like the oath you take before testifying in court says, it's not the whole truth.
Jesus said this when sending his disciples out:
"Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to turn
" 'a man against his father,
a daughter against her mother,
a daughter-in-law against her motherinlaw—
a man's enemies will be the members of his own household.'
As I see it, we are called to love and live in peace with all men, if possible. But that possibility does not come at the cost of compromising the truth. And here is the great divider in the traditional church and the emergent church today. The emergent church seeks to love, at any cost. The traditional church seeks to protect truth, at any cost. And when we have two opposites that we are called to live by, the answer is not going to be a simple one.
It will not be without tension, and it will not be a line we can draw and leave in the sand for the rest of time. What is the relationship between love and acceptance? God loves everyone, but will not leave any sin unpunished. He does not want anyone to live or die out of relationship with him, but he has allowed only one very infliexible and ultimately demanding way to be in that relationship. It's a tense place to be, and one that demands more wisdom and discretion than any of us has within us to truly understand which way to go. But that's where we are, and we can't pretend otherwise.
But, like the oath you take before testifying in court says, it's not the whole truth.
Jesus said this when sending his disciples out:
"Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to turn
" 'a man against his father,
a daughter against her mother,
a daughter-in-law against her motherinlaw—
a man's enemies will be the members of his own household.'
"Anyone who loves his father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves his son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and anyone who does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it." (Matthew 10:34-39)
So what do we do with this? Honestly, I think that anyone who teaches is in a tough spot, and as you get in front of people who have less and less background information through which to filter and understand the message, the more difficult it gets. How do you include enough to fairly represent the truth without overwhelming them? The Bible is not a simple book, and almost any time that you teach one concept in a simple way you risk teaching against an equally valid one, as is the case here.As I see it, we are called to love and live in peace with all men, if possible. But that possibility does not come at the cost of compromising the truth. And here is the great divider in the traditional church and the emergent church today. The emergent church seeks to love, at any cost. The traditional church seeks to protect truth, at any cost. And when we have two opposites that we are called to live by, the answer is not going to be a simple one.
It will not be without tension, and it will not be a line we can draw and leave in the sand for the rest of time. What is the relationship between love and acceptance? God loves everyone, but will not leave any sin unpunished. He does not want anyone to live or die out of relationship with him, but he has allowed only one very infliexible and ultimately demanding way to be in that relationship. It's a tense place to be, and one that demands more wisdom and discretion than any of us has within us to truly understand which way to go. But that's where we are, and we can't pretend otherwise.
Sunday, February 4, 2007
Farenheit 451
We sat down and she asked, "Is this supposed to be experimental theatre?"
"No," I said, "I don't think we really do that in Geneva. And look around you..." We scanned the sea of grey heads behind us - not exactly an experimental theatre kind of audience. So we settled into our seats and the show started... with what we like to call "interpretive dance," complete with masks and music you would never listen to on purpose. And it went south from there.
Okay, it was my idea to go. I sent the email saying it would be fun. I organized the tickets. But I hadn't counted on four British actors unable to speak in an American accent but intent on learning - before our very eyes, if they had to. I didn't count on a script designed, it seems, for people who have trouble following the subtle twists and turns of "Friends". My favorite part came fairly early on.
The Fireman (and you should know that, in the future, Firemen will no longer be putting out fires - they will be the ones responsible for burning books, which are a danger to society) has collected the books and is about to burn them. He has sprinkled them with kerosene, and put them into a large metal container.
Now any of you who remember Science Nathan's story about the green flame will understand that, at this point, I became pretty optimistic about this being the greatest theatre performance of my life. Fire? On stage? Hello - come to papa!
But instead of reaching for a match, the Fireman picked up a spot light with a red filter on it, and shone that into the container.
"Oooohhhh," he said, "it's sooooooo hot. They're burning up in there. Yep, they sure are on fire."
He mopped imaginary sweat from his brow. Or, now that I think about it, it was probably real sweat. I mean, if I had to deliver those lines with a straight face I would sure not be in my comfort zone any more.
And of course, these lines, like all others throughout the performance, were delivered at full volume. You've got to be sure the people in the back can hear, you see, and that's best done by making everything equally loud. If I had a debilitating fear of subtlety, this may well be the one play I could watch over and over with threat of discomfort. They hit us over the head with everything they had. Thankfully, they didn't have much.
So, I'm sorry. I'll try to pick better next time. And bring snacks.
"No," I said, "I don't think we really do that in Geneva. And look around you..." We scanned the sea of grey heads behind us - not exactly an experimental theatre kind of audience. So we settled into our seats and the show started... with what we like to call "interpretive dance," complete with masks and music you would never listen to on purpose. And it went south from there.
Okay, it was my idea to go. I sent the email saying it would be fun. I organized the tickets. But I hadn't counted on four British actors unable to speak in an American accent but intent on learning - before our very eyes, if they had to. I didn't count on a script designed, it seems, for people who have trouble following the subtle twists and turns of "Friends". My favorite part came fairly early on.
The Fireman (and you should know that, in the future, Firemen will no longer be putting out fires - they will be the ones responsible for burning books, which are a danger to society) has collected the books and is about to burn them. He has sprinkled them with kerosene, and put them into a large metal container.
Now any of you who remember Science Nathan's story about the green flame will understand that, at this point, I became pretty optimistic about this being the greatest theatre performance of my life. Fire? On stage? Hello - come to papa!
But instead of reaching for a match, the Fireman picked up a spot light with a red filter on it, and shone that into the container.
"Oooohhhh," he said, "it's sooooooo hot. They're burning up in there. Yep, they sure are on fire."
He mopped imaginary sweat from his brow. Or, now that I think about it, it was probably real sweat. I mean, if I had to deliver those lines with a straight face I would sure not be in my comfort zone any more.
And of course, these lines, like all others throughout the performance, were delivered at full volume. You've got to be sure the people in the back can hear, you see, and that's best done by making everything equally loud. If I had a debilitating fear of subtlety, this may well be the one play I could watch over and over with threat of discomfort. They hit us over the head with everything they had. Thankfully, they didn't have much.
So, I'm sorry. I'll try to pick better next time. And bring snacks.
Saturday, February 3, 2007
Question Of The Day
From an email I recieved this morning: "do you like people to comment?"
I do. I mean, I don't mind if you just want to read, but comments are fun. And just to make it easier:
1. They can be short. It's okay, really.
2. You can do it annonymously. Yeah, if you're slightly emberassed to be associated with The Yellow Couch, I won't take it personally. I mean, it is just a piece of furniture.
3. I'll usually respond to them, even. It can almost be like a conversation, but one where you can stop listening to me whenever you want.
I do. I mean, I don't mind if you just want to read, but comments are fun. And just to make it easier:
1. They can be short. It's okay, really.
2. You can do it annonymously. Yeah, if you're slightly emberassed to be associated with The Yellow Couch, I won't take it personally. I mean, it is just a piece of furniture.
3. I'll usually respond to them, even. It can almost be like a conversation, but one where you can stop listening to me whenever you want.
The Eye Of The Tiger
I played poker tonight. I lost, as usual. I had a wonderful time, as usual. It makes me wonder why I lose... and lose... and lose.... and why I still don't care?
1. I love to be with my friends and to talk to them. When I have to choose between paying attention to a conversation with a friend or really giving my focus to the game to try and read the people around me, calculate odds, remember when it's my turn (you know, tricky stuff), there's no question. Talk to me.
2. I like the music. A lot. Yeah, once it's on, I can't help it... I want to sing, I want to dance (even if just in my chair). I don't really want to but seem unable to do anything but make "drummer face" in the cool parts. It may rob me - slightly - of my ability to focus. Or to do anything other than breath and, occasionally, swallow. Oh well.
3. I like my friends to be happy. I'm not going to tell you I try to lose, but... well, I don't like taking people out, and I have, in the final two, played very, very sloppy poker. I mean, if I don't care, and the other person would really like to win, I think it may be better for everyone. Does that make me an unethical poker player?
So, here's my action plan for improving my winning percentage:
1. Invite people I don't like. No risk of conversation that way, plus I won't care if I eliminate them. I might even like it! Two birds in the bush with one stone, as it were.
2. Ban music. Except maybe techno, so I wouldn't be tempted to sing along, though it may result in me throwing someone out the window before the evening was drawing to a natural conclusion.
3. Play for really big stakes. I mean, maybe if I needed the money to make my next rent payment, I would try harder.
4. Pull back on the pizza thing and introduce more beet root-based dishes. I think this one is self-explanatory.
Yeah, that sounds like the ticket. I already have trouble with the invitation list because I have way more people I want to invite than space at a single-table game, so inviting people I don't like would really clear up that whole dilemma for me as well. So, if you get an invitation to the next game... please don't take it personally. Just bring your rent money and be prepared for DJ Bobo and total annihilation poker, Darryl-style. Yeah, baby!
1. I love to be with my friends and to talk to them. When I have to choose between paying attention to a conversation with a friend or really giving my focus to the game to try and read the people around me, calculate odds, remember when it's my turn (you know, tricky stuff), there's no question. Talk to me.
2. I like the music. A lot. Yeah, once it's on, I can't help it... I want to sing, I want to dance (even if just in my chair). I don't really want to but seem unable to do anything but make "drummer face" in the cool parts. It may rob me - slightly - of my ability to focus. Or to do anything other than breath and, occasionally, swallow. Oh well.
3. I like my friends to be happy. I'm not going to tell you I try to lose, but... well, I don't like taking people out, and I have, in the final two, played very, very sloppy poker. I mean, if I don't care, and the other person would really like to win, I think it may be better for everyone. Does that make me an unethical poker player?
So, here's my action plan for improving my winning percentage:
1. Invite people I don't like. No risk of conversation that way, plus I won't care if I eliminate them. I might even like it! Two birds in the bush with one stone, as it were.
2. Ban music. Except maybe techno, so I wouldn't be tempted to sing along, though it may result in me throwing someone out the window before the evening was drawing to a natural conclusion.
3. Play for really big stakes. I mean, maybe if I needed the money to make my next rent payment, I would try harder.
4. Pull back on the pizza thing and introduce more beet root-based dishes. I think this one is self-explanatory.
Yeah, that sounds like the ticket. I already have trouble with the invitation list because I have way more people I want to invite than space at a single-table game, so inviting people I don't like would really clear up that whole dilemma for me as well. So, if you get an invitation to the next game... please don't take it personally. Just bring your rent money and be prepared for DJ Bobo and total annihilation poker, Darryl-style. Yeah, baby!
Friday, February 2, 2007
Chester The Ladybug
There once was a ladybug named Chester. He was not usually a very happy ladybug.
First off, Chester was a he, but everyone he met assumed he was a she.
"Look at that ladybug," they would say, "isn't she cute?"
"I'm not cute," Chester would say, "I'm handsome!". But all ladybugs have very little voices, and Chester had an even littler voice, so no one ever paid any attention to him. He said it over and over, but no one ever listened to Chester. If only I was bigger, thought Chester, I could tell everyone who I am and I would never have to worry again.
And that was the real problem. All ladybugs are little, but Chester was very, very little, even for a ladybug. He had a little voice, and little wings, and little legs. It seemed that no one else was as little as he was.
Since everyone thought he was a she and he was very, very, little, Chester often felt sad. And, like most ladybugs do when they feel sad, he decided to talk to the old ladybug who lived in the rhubarb and see if she had any advice.
"How long," Chester asked her, "would it take me to get to Lake Michigan? I think that, if I were there, it wouldn't be so bad to be little. I could make lots of friends and be very happy, and never have to think about being little again. And I don't think that anyone there would mistake me for a she!"
"Well," said the old ladybug, "you are very, very little, so I don't think that you will be able to get to Lake Michigan, or even Lake Superior, unless you can find someone to help you."
So Chester went to talk to his friend, the bird, and explained his problem to him.
"How long," Chester asked him, "do you think it would take you to fly to Lake Michigan?"
The bird thought for a moment. "I think I could fly there pretty quickly, but your legs are very little, so they wouldn't be strong enough to hold on for the whole ride. I'm sorry, but I wouldn't want to drop you."
Chester decided that maybe getting a ride with a bird wasn't such a good idea, anyway. After all, he said to himself, everyone knows that birds sometimes eat bugs - even ladybugs - if they get hungry enough. And, on a trip that long, any bird would probably get hungry at least once.
So Chester went to talk to his friend, the cat, and explained his problem to her.
The cat thought for a moment. "It would take a little while, but I don't know the way, and your voice is very little, so if you told me where to go, I don't think I could hear you. I'm sorry, but I wouldn't want to lose you."
Chester decided that getting a ride with a cat wasn't such a good idea, anyway. After all, he thought, everyone knows that cats rarely take directions well, anyways, and he didn't want to end up in Winnipeg by mistake.
So Chester went to talk to his friend, the pig, and explained the problem to him.
The pig thought for a moment, "I think I could walk there in a while, but I would get very hot from all that walking, and your wings are too little to cool me down and we may end up getting stuck in the hot sun. I'm sorry, but I don't want you to get a sunburn."
Chester decided that getting a ride with a pig wasn't such a good idea, anyway. After all, he thought, everyone knows that pigs smell... well, like pigs, and after riding all the way to Lake Michigan, he might end up smelling like a pig, too. Chester liked smelling like a ladybug.
So Chester went back to the old ladybug who lived in the rhubarb.
"My friend the bird would take me, but my legs are too little and he doesn't want to drop me. My friend the cat would take me, but my voice is too little, and she doesn't want me to get lost. My friend the pig would take me, but my wings are too little and he doesn't want me to get stuck in the hot sun. How else can I get to Lake Michigan?"
The old ladybug looked at Chester and laughed. "You have a friend who wants to make sure you don't fall down, and another friend who wants to make sure that you don't get lost, and another friend who wants to make sure that you don't get stuck in the sun. Why would you want to go away when you have friends like that right here?"
Suddenly Chester laughed, too. "It's not so bad being little," he said, "if you have friends who care about you!" He paused, considering, "But I'm still going to shoot the next person who calls me 'she'".
The End
First off, Chester was a he, but everyone he met assumed he was a she.
"Look at that ladybug," they would say, "isn't she cute?"
"I'm not cute," Chester would say, "I'm handsome!". But all ladybugs have very little voices, and Chester had an even littler voice, so no one ever paid any attention to him. He said it over and over, but no one ever listened to Chester. If only I was bigger, thought Chester, I could tell everyone who I am and I would never have to worry again.
And that was the real problem. All ladybugs are little, but Chester was very, very little, even for a ladybug. He had a little voice, and little wings, and little legs. It seemed that no one else was as little as he was.
Since everyone thought he was a she and he was very, very, little, Chester often felt sad. And, like most ladybugs do when they feel sad, he decided to talk to the old ladybug who lived in the rhubarb and see if she had any advice.
"How long," Chester asked her, "would it take me to get to Lake Michigan? I think that, if I were there, it wouldn't be so bad to be little. I could make lots of friends and be very happy, and never have to think about being little again. And I don't think that anyone there would mistake me for a she!"
"Well," said the old ladybug, "you are very, very little, so I don't think that you will be able to get to Lake Michigan, or even Lake Superior, unless you can find someone to help you."
So Chester went to talk to his friend, the bird, and explained his problem to him.
"How long," Chester asked him, "do you think it would take you to fly to Lake Michigan?"
The bird thought for a moment. "I think I could fly there pretty quickly, but your legs are very little, so they wouldn't be strong enough to hold on for the whole ride. I'm sorry, but I wouldn't want to drop you."
Chester decided that maybe getting a ride with a bird wasn't such a good idea, anyway. After all, he said to himself, everyone knows that birds sometimes eat bugs - even ladybugs - if they get hungry enough. And, on a trip that long, any bird would probably get hungry at least once.
So Chester went to talk to his friend, the cat, and explained his problem to her.
The cat thought for a moment. "It would take a little while, but I don't know the way, and your voice is very little, so if you told me where to go, I don't think I could hear you. I'm sorry, but I wouldn't want to lose you."
Chester decided that getting a ride with a cat wasn't such a good idea, anyway. After all, he thought, everyone knows that cats rarely take directions well, anyways, and he didn't want to end up in Winnipeg by mistake.
So Chester went to talk to his friend, the pig, and explained the problem to him.
The pig thought for a moment, "I think I could walk there in a while, but I would get very hot from all that walking, and your wings are too little to cool me down and we may end up getting stuck in the hot sun. I'm sorry, but I don't want you to get a sunburn."
Chester decided that getting a ride with a pig wasn't such a good idea, anyway. After all, he thought, everyone knows that pigs smell... well, like pigs, and after riding all the way to Lake Michigan, he might end up smelling like a pig, too. Chester liked smelling like a ladybug.
So Chester went back to the old ladybug who lived in the rhubarb.
"My friend the bird would take me, but my legs are too little and he doesn't want to drop me. My friend the cat would take me, but my voice is too little, and she doesn't want me to get lost. My friend the pig would take me, but my wings are too little and he doesn't want me to get stuck in the hot sun. How else can I get to Lake Michigan?"
The old ladybug looked at Chester and laughed. "You have a friend who wants to make sure you don't fall down, and another friend who wants to make sure that you don't get lost, and another friend who wants to make sure that you don't get stuck in the sun. Why would you want to go away when you have friends like that right here?"
Suddenly Chester laughed, too. "It's not so bad being little," he said, "if you have friends who care about you!" He paused, considering, "But I'm still going to shoot the next person who calls me 'she'".
The End
Thursday, February 1, 2007
I Want (Part I)
To eventually have more posts than labels.
To show my little girl my Father's love.
To create music that takes your breath away.
To remember which direction I was going before I went into the building.
To dance.
To find the perfect sunglasses.
To learn to say goodbye.
To hear you laugh.
To appreciate what I have.
To be like salt.
To make eye contact.
To see Aerosmith.
To be honest.
To take your picture.
[EDIT] Just to avoid any confusion, wanting to create music that takes your breath away is not at all the same as wanting to remake the song, "Take My Breath Away" from the Top Gun soundtrack.
To show my little girl my Father's love.
To create music that takes your breath away.
To remember which direction I was going before I went into the building.
To dance.
To find the perfect sunglasses.
To learn to say goodbye.
To hear you laugh.
To appreciate what I have.
To be like salt.
To make eye contact.
To see Aerosmith.
To be honest.
To take your picture.
[EDIT] Just to avoid any confusion, wanting to create music that takes your breath away is not at all the same as wanting to remake the song, "Take My Breath Away" from the Top Gun soundtrack.
Settle A Bet
At breakfast this morning, one of my colleagues came to the table with a bowl of cut strawberries and pineapple, and a whole kiwi. This struck me as a bit odd, since there was a whole bowl of fresh, cut kiwis with the rest of the fruit. So, I asked her why she would take one that she was going to have to peel when someone else had already peeled some for her, and she said that it was for the vitamins - that once fruit was cut, it would lose its nutrients.
I guess I may have looked a bit sceptical.
Two others chimed in with support for her theory - that any fruit that's been cut and out for an hour is way less healthy than fruit that hasn't been. I did not buy it, and told them so in my very politest voice... thankfully, all three of them know me so it wasn't a problem, but as soon as breakfast was over I got onto the internet to find the truth (becuase if there's one place you can be sure of finding the truth, it's on the internet).
Turns out, it makes very little difference if fruit has been cut or not, and some fruit can actually become more beneficial with air exposure.
What I find amazing about this is not that there are drastic differences between how Europeans and North Americans think about food and nutrition, nor that my spidey sense is in good working order... it's just trying to remember how we settled things like this before the internet. I remember with a friend of mine from Calgary... we would occasionally disagree about the correct pronunciation of a word, and while neither of us is super-competitive, both of us love to learn, so we would gleefully head to a dictionary and look it up... not really caring if we were right or wrong, but being thrilled at the prospect of just being a little bit better, in some way, because of the search. But for other things that were a little tougher to research, we ended up in more than one (amicable) deadlock.
There are three things that I love about the internet. I can find information (about important topics like the effect of being cut on the vitamin content of fruit) in a dizzyingly short amount of time. It lets me join communities of interest, like with my cigar guys, that can turn into real relationships and real friendships with very real people. And third, it lets me communicate with people I care about, no matter where (or when) we are. Sure there's a lot of crap on it, and I have seen close-up that it can be used in destructive and terrible ways.
But it's pretty killer for settling a bet.
I guess I may have looked a bit sceptical.
Two others chimed in with support for her theory - that any fruit that's been cut and out for an hour is way less healthy than fruit that hasn't been. I did not buy it, and told them so in my very politest voice... thankfully, all three of them know me so it wasn't a problem, but as soon as breakfast was over I got onto the internet to find the truth (becuase if there's one place you can be sure of finding the truth, it's on the internet).
Turns out, it makes very little difference if fruit has been cut or not, and some fruit can actually become more beneficial with air exposure.
What I find amazing about this is not that there are drastic differences between how Europeans and North Americans think about food and nutrition, nor that my spidey sense is in good working order... it's just trying to remember how we settled things like this before the internet. I remember with a friend of mine from Calgary... we would occasionally disagree about the correct pronunciation of a word, and while neither of us is super-competitive, both of us love to learn, so we would gleefully head to a dictionary and look it up... not really caring if we were right or wrong, but being thrilled at the prospect of just being a little bit better, in some way, because of the search. But for other things that were a little tougher to research, we ended up in more than one (amicable) deadlock.
There are three things that I love about the internet. I can find information (about important topics like the effect of being cut on the vitamin content of fruit) in a dizzyingly short amount of time. It lets me join communities of interest, like with my cigar guys, that can turn into real relationships and real friendships with very real people. And third, it lets me communicate with people I care about, no matter where (or when) we are. Sure there's a lot of crap on it, and I have seen close-up that it can be used in destructive and terrible ways.
But it's pretty killer for settling a bet.
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