michelle likes pie

Goodwill hunting

2010-05-13T10:58:00.000-07:00

I've been woefully negligent in updating on here. The semester is done, though, and that means that I can spend more free time doing things of my choosing whilst not suffering from soul-crippling guilt.

For the mo, that means trolling Goodwill and "expressing myself" all over the furniture I pick up.

It all started with a $12 coffee table...

It was in pretty decent condition, i.e., not wobbly or unstable without any huge nicks or gashes. There was a fairly large water spot but nothing that wouldn't easily be fixed with some paint.

Close-up of the water stain and the detailing.

Even though I don't plan on keeping it (nor do I have the room for it), I used a deep, royal blue as a base that would coordinate with the motif I've got going in my bedroom.

I'm either going to paint or rob a bank.

Laying down the design presented a problem. I had originally planned on covering the back of the print-outs with white chalk then laying them on the tabletop and tracing the pattern with a marker but decided that I wanted to get it done quicker. So I tried just tracing it with black sharpie so that it would bleed through but that was inconsistent. Then I tried projecting it onto the table but it wasn't sharp enough. In the end, my first idea had been the best and since then I've used it on everything else. Could have been done a week sooner and with better results and less frustration had I not been so hasty and impatient. Story of my life.

Halfway through. Only camera I had at the time was the one on my phone so the colors aren't super true but close enough.

In the end, I'm really pleased with how it turned out. I'm going to lay down a sealant over the top this weekend now that I have a proper one, but it's 99.9% finished and ready to be utilized.

Since then, I've purchased an end table and a few small frames to work on for others as well as a ginormous mirror and a birdcage that I'll be using myself. A coworker runs a successful boutique every three months and so now I'm in the beginning stages of setting up an LLC so I can maybe start making money on my trials and errors. I have a million ideas and they only multiple the more I do.

I missed being creative.

Long time, no see

2010-02-05T10:42:00.000-08:00

I wish I had a good excuse for why, exactly, I've neglected this. Not that I'm offering up any particularly interesting or eye-opening wisdom but my intention when starting a blog was to practice writing for other people. With the knowledge that it's going to be public domain, I tend to spend a little more time and effort on a piece. And if I want someone to one day pay me for my little drabbles, I'm going to need as much of a workout as I can get.

After years of dicking around with my parents' (and my) money, I started at ASU this spring with a major in Linguistics and a minor in Japanese. It's been a bumpy beginning but it's given me some kind of a goal to work towards that I previously didn't have and I, consequently, don't feel nearly as restless. There's still a skepticism in regards to how well-suited I am for school but I don't have the emotional security to be a gypsy/ vagabond/ wandering minstrel/ hobo, so I'm testing the waters in case I'm wrong and wind up loving academia.

I'm exactly where I thought I'd be two and a half years ago. My original plan was to get my Bachelors in English, wow everyone with my oratorical prowess and wit, apply to the JET program and then spend a couple years as a teacher in Japan. Then six months later I fell in love with a man who lives 2500 miles away in Norwalk, Ct, and promptly buckled all those plans into the backseat. We had big plans to move me over there after the summer and I was all packed and ready to go when, as big plans often have a tendency to do, it fell apart.

A year and a half saw me fighting with myself and him and God over where I fit in, if anywhere. As much as I look forward to becoming fluent (hopefully?) and living in Japan for awhile, I've not made it a secret that it's all a far second place when it comes to falling in love. Not settling down or starting a family, just falling in love and nothing else. I think I'm done trying to pretend like my insides aren't as mushy as baby food.

That whole, "I don't know what God's thinking" thing is annoyingly true. And not in the, "in the back of my mind I'm pretty sure I've got You pegged" kind of way. No, it's the reluctant, grudging "well, damn, I'm all out of ideas" acceptance that I'm not used to. At ALL. And, alarmingly, I haven't a clue how to live my life without serious, long-term planning. This "day by day" crap feels unnatural to me, even though I'm pretty sure it's quite the opposite.

So, no idea what's going on. I won't lie and say I'm not kinda enjoying it but I wonder if and when the novelty will wear off. Or when I'll realize I'm just kidding myself AGAIN and I still haven't "let go and let God".

My faith needs a 'Restart' button

2009-10-30T09:54:00.000-07:00

At church a couple weekends ago we looked at Luke 15. It's the story of the prodigal son and even for those who don't believe it's familiar. Our pastor began by saying that to truly understand all the layers and context we would have to wipe the slate clean and forget everything we thought we knew about it.

And that got me thinking.

How much of what I "know" about my faith has been taken from popular opinion? I listen to a fair amount of Christian music, read a fair amount of Christian literature, have more than a fair amount of Christian friends; so what percentage of the information I retain is coming from third-party sources? And seeing as how Christ has been dead for a couple thousand years and isn't available to meet me at Xtreme Bean for a chat, is it even possible to get counsel straight from the horse's mouth?

Sola scriptura is the belief that no interpretation of scripture is to be placed above scripture itself. It's considered one of the foundational ideals that the Reformation stands upon and while it by no means negates the validity or importance of theological critique and reflection, it holds scripture as the Be All, End All. Martin Luther said, "The true rule is this: God's Word shall establish articles of faith, and no one else, not even an angel can do so."

My mother is devout to the point of exasperation but she underestimates her own ability to break down what she reads in her Bible each night. As a result, she turns to Joyce Meyer, Charles Stanley, Gregory Dictow and Joel Osteen as conduits. During our weekly nosh sessions at Einstein's, she'll rarely quote scripture but usually has some nugget of wisdom from one of the above mentioned.

I'm a Brennan Manning fangirl and C.S. Lewis gives me a theological hard-on, so I have no room to talk when it comes down to the veneration of mere mortals. But here's where I'm finding pause lately:

Fundamentally it all comes down to Jesus, right? Any respected theologian or apologist of the faith is going to agree that the bare bones of belief is the Man Himself. All of the people admired for their wisdom are using Christ as a standard of measurement. He's what they strive for and all their messages and books and songs are an effort to relate how they've gotten closer to that goal.

I had a professor while in Bible college that often lamented how easy it was to make a Christ-follower into a Billy Graham-follower or a John MacArthur-follower. Rich Mullins said it saddened him that so many people knew all the words to his songs but couldn't recite much more than John 3:16. And I'm about as guilty as one can be of this. It wasn't until eight or nine months ago that I actually put much thought or time into my Bible reading but I had a 'Mere Christianity' or 'Ragamuffin Gospel' quote sitting in queue on the off chance that the situation called for it.

The thing is, Jesus didn't have anything other than the Tanakh to reference (well, and, of course Himself b/c He's God incarnate, but that's beside the point). No KLove, no podcasts, no 'Purpose Driven Life'. All the "filters" we have and inadvertently use when viewing the world around us weren't an issue for Him.

I think we're a well-meaning group for the most part but I know my own perspective can be unintentionally convoluted. I don't ask myself what Christ would do in a given situation generally but I will rifle through the mental notes I took while reading 'The Journey of Desire'. And while that isn't bad, per se, it's adding an unnecessary step between my heart and God's. And while it is better than asking, "Well, what would Jenna Jameson do if she were here?", what's the point in aspiring toward the standard of another human when said human himself is aspiring toward the standard of something greater?

Rather than shaking a finger at the sources, however, I've got to turn this inward. I want to discard all the influences that muddy my chances to Love as Jesus did, at least temporarily. I don't want my decision as to whether or not I spend a Saturday night at a bar in Old Town to be based on my church's stance. Or Charles Stanley's. Or Billy Graham's. I'm not saying I'll just use my own judgment (because we all know how that would turn out) but instead taking a good look at from whence my plumb line falls.

I don't honestly know what this will look like when practically applied to life but I want to take an earnest shot at trying to strip away all the unnecessary perspectives that've been added by well-intentioned followers. No church service? No Bible reading? Maybe just the Old Testament? No clue. But I'm hoping to have a better idea come 2010 because I intend to take this baby out for a test drive in January.

I hope I don't wind up running it into a ditch.

Unconditional Love

2009-10-05T13:43:00.000-07:00

I am, for the most part, incapable of holding a grudge. A friend recently told me it was a Godly quality to have and that he was impressed.

"Don't be," I told him, "it's not by choice."

When I've been purposely abused and taken advantage of, when someone decided to do something hurtful knowing I'd forgive them later, those are the times when I'd give almost anything to be able to say, "Go fuck yourself," and mean it.

"It's weakness," the world says. Even in the church it's hard to find someone who'll be supportive of the decision to reopen your heart to someone who's hurt you.

And should they? For as much as I strive toward unconditional love it's still hard for me to encourage it in others. And, more often than not, I think it the "wrong" choice when I see someone else "turn the other cheek". Most of the time it's assumed that the only reason is some defect in the forgiving party - he/she isn't strong enough to let go or they're afraid to break out of a comfortable pattern. Forgiveness, acceptance, they're all things that we're supposed to pursue but how am I supposed to urge others to put their hearts on the line when the odds are 100 to 1 that they'll wind up hurt? And after they're burned as a consequence, how can I find fault if they say, "To hell with it," and turn their back?

Right now, without any pain or anger or fresh wounds, I'm not bothered by my tendency to be seen as a doormat. It's not something I've worked at or chose, but I know that this weird malfunction I've been given that allows me to wipe the past clean is necessary for any hope or optimism to survive in me. I can accept it without much pride because I know it's caused me much grief in the past and is only likely to do so in the future. I can't see it as something to brag about.

It's sad then to realize that I take any grace I've been shown by God for granted on a regular basis. I know how much it hurts me even now to think about it and I know how much I've cursed it. How much more grateful and humbled should I be knowing what I know about His acceptance and forgiveness?

No, this isn't anything to be proud of.

"Paranormal Activity": worth the wait

2009-09-26T16:54:00.000-07:00

Last night was the big night. One of the thirteen cities showing "Paranormal Activity" was Tucson, AZ and four friends and I made the two hour drive to catch it.

I'll warn you now, there will be spoilers. There is no huge twist or big "reveal" but I know some people are sensitive to even the littlest things. Therefore, you have been warned.

The last movie that caused me to lose sleep was [REC] (which, on a related note, will have its sequel released October 2nd and the reviews so far have been great) and that was only because I dreamt of that creepy Medeiros girl from the last five minutes and woke up in a cold sweat. Prior to that nothing has scared me and that's a total departure from my youth. Just the commercials for "Child's Play" kept me from sleep; watching the movie would have probably driven me to a therapist ten years earlier. It wasn't until I played "Fatal Frame" that I discovered a deep love of muscle-tensing, nerve-teasing horror. That was about seven years ago and I haven't stopped since.

I get a lot of eye-rolls when I say this, but "The Blair Witch Project" is probably one of my top ten horror movies. Granted, I saw it when it was still purported to be "found footage" but after devouring a constantly growing number of horror films in its wake, I believe it stands up against the really huge titles that come out every year. "Paranormal Activity" is ridiculously terrifying for the exact same reasons and yet succeeds in all the ways "Blair Witch" failed. The key ingredient that 99.5% of the writers, directors and producers is REALISM. It's not just good acting, either, although nothing kills a film quicker than characters that act like characters; no, it's all about whether or not the audience can relate to the events. And "Paranormal Activity" has managed to take that ideal and run with it - lapping just about every other contender several times over.

This is one of those movies that it'll be hard to explain the fear it induces because, in all honesty, precious little happens. There are no lost limbs, no blood spewage, no objects crashing into walls or moving furniture (well, a lamp and door or two). You never even see what "it" is (not technically, at least).

The premise is very simple. Micah and Katie have been dating for three years and have recently moved into a home together. Not long after, things begin to go bump in the night and she tells him that she's had paranormal phenomenon follow her since she eight years old. Micah, wanting to play the white knight/PI, buys a camera, intent on capturing evidence of whatever is causing the disturbances. About half the film is Micah carrying the camera around, annoying Katie and making jokes. The other half is at night where the camera sits on tripod, pointed at their bed and open door.

And that, my friends, is when it gets under your skin.

There is no background music. Unlike a lot of "found footage" films, the editing looks very amateurish - as if it really was shot and spliced together by a twenty-something with no background in AV whatsoever - and the acting, unlike the "Blair Witch Project" is entirely realistic. Both the characters, Katie and Micah, are believable and though they have several faults as people, you really feel for them. Katie especially, who is the one targeted by the entity, is heartbreaking. Too often the protagonists in horror films are far too calm or willing to confront whatever the hell it is that's antagonizing him or her. I honestly loved the fact that we see Katie break down and sob like a child because nothing that's going on is under her control. She's strong because she has to be but clearly she'd rather just say, "fuck it" and move on.

Asian horror has succeeded in MY kind of horror for years and for that reason I've had a cynical attitude towards Hollywood in regards to scary flicks. South Korea had both the epic "A Tale of Two Sisters" and psychological "Phone"; Hong Kong, the graceful "The Eye"; and, of course, Japan's the forerunner (or WAS) with "Ringu" and, my personal favorite, Kiyoshi Kurosawa's heartbreaking and beautiful "Kairo". Every single one of these is so simple in their execution, so sparse in their cheap, "jump" scares and so careful in their cinematography that it's easy to push them aside as something other than horror. They aren't easy to consume and are generally better after repeated viewings because they're so chock-full you miss a good quarter of what went on. But what they lack in "pa nosh," they make up for in white-knuckle tension and nail-biting suspense. "A Tale of Two Sisters" has what I consider to be the epitome of this type of horror in the infamous dinner scene. Even when you know what's coming - they TELL you just minutes before it happens - they spend a good five minutes winding you so tight that you practically wet your pants when it finally comes.

No spoilers here but it's pretty damn intense in atmosphere:

"Paranormal Activity" is the same type of film. Slow pacing and rare jumps, but by the end you've put yourself in the characters place and it's easy to see why the situation is so terrifying.

If you possibly can, go see this in the theater. I am doubtful it'll hold up as well on a small screen (although I still intend to buy it).

I look forward to a wider release 'cause God knows I'm not driving another four hours.

My September? Officially MADE.

2009-09-15T15:32:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time there was an indie horror flick called, "Paranormal Activity" and she truly was the fairest of them all. Review after review after review lauded it as the most terrifying movie to ever grace the screen and before long, horror nerds were chomping at the bit to get the chance to see it. Dreamworks snatched the sucker up and for two long years it sat on the shelf, and we were all fearful it would never see the light of day.

Miracles, my friends, do happen...

Official FULL trailer for Paramount's "Paranormal Activity"

...and what's that last city it's playing in?

TUCSON, BITCHES!

I know where I'M gonna be on September 25th.

Over my head

2009-09-08T09:56:00.000-07:00

My mother and I have great discussions that generally take place during our weekly Sunday lunches at Einstein's. Last month I finished reading the entire Bible for the first time and that's subsequently become our newest hot-button issue. She's a big fan of Joyce Meyer, Joel Osteen and Charles Stanley and can often be heard saying, "Last night Joyce Meyer was talking about..." or "That reminds me of something I heard on Gregory Dickow!" Let me say upfront that I have nothing against any of the above or the ministries they head. And to be fair, it's not exactly rare for me to blather on about what C.S. Lewis or Rich Mullins or Brennan Manning have to say on a particular topic. Those evangelists have their place and I'm thankful there's a means to reach such a wide audience. I suggested not long ago that perhaps my mother relied too heavily on their interpretation of the gospel rather than searching for answers herself. Her response was simply, "I don't think I'm smart enough to understand the Bible on my own." I couldn't last in Bible college with the apologetes and theologians, so I know what it's like to be overwhelmed by the intense philosophy that comes out of scripture and feel less than capable, especially when you're around those who easily hold their own.

My New Testament professor used to say he feared that popular evangelists were becoming a crutch for modern-day believers and even taking the place of Christ in some cases. "If Jesus knocked on their door tomorrow, I think a lot of them would wave and then turn back to Billy Graham for their spiritual nourishment."

If God's given these people the ability to communicate His will at points where we otherwise might not understand, at what point does it stop being supplemental and simply become fundamental?

Twilight (or, 'The Easiest Way to Lose My Respect as a Woman')

2009-08-22T22:43:00.000-07:00

This is actually taken from an email I wrote to my friend Foxy McHotPants in regards to her adventure into the series, Twilight. She enjoyed the movie and because she is someone I respect and admire (and can also trust that should we disagree, it's nothing that a caged, hot-oil wrestling match wouldn't resolve), I felt it my responsibility to sit her down and, um, have a chat.

DISCLAIMER AND WARNING: IF YOU'RE A TWILIGHT FAN (and I know several well-meaning and wonderful people in my life are), DO NOT READ FURTHER. I'M BEGGING YOU. TURN BACK NOW. I DON'T WANT A DOZEN DEATH THREATS BECAUSE I ~~GOT DRUNK AND SHUCKED OFF ALL MY TACT AND COMPASSION IN A FIT OF TYPING AND LULZ~~ DISAGREE WITH YOU.

LAST CHANCE.

First off, I'm going to go on record as saying that I DID read most of the series and kinda-sorta enjoyed it. I couldn't stomach most of Breaking Dawn (Breaking Down) after reading a couple synopses. I think Eclipse was a very natural ending and the story should have left off there.

Now, I have three major problems:
One: the story telling. Smeyer has FAR too many loose ends that, not only had SO MUCH POTENTIAL for, you know, giving the story an actual PLOT (other than "OMG, WHY DOES EDWARD LOVE ME? HE IS PERFECT. I AM A LOWLY, PLAIN MORTAL (even though everyone is fascinated and attracted to me) WITH NOTHING TO OFFER. I MUST BE WITH HIM 4 EV-AAAAAAAAAH! BITE ME NOW SO WE CAN SEX.") but they were abandoned like stray kittens. Such as: DO vampires have souls? Edward's so. worried. about vamping Bella because he thinks he's damned and he doesn't want to subject his "twu lub" to that same, cruel fate. So... he just suddenly becomes OK with the idea even though his question is never answered? The first book BARELY has a plot until 3/4 of the way through (and no, I don't consider dry-humping and heavy breathing while talking about who loves who more a "plot"). There is no central story other than "Bella and Edward fall in love" and because that happens before a third of the first book is over, SMeyer creates unrealistic drama that goes on around them but it doesn't REALLY shake their OMG! TRU LUV, making it nothing more than background noise. Not to mention SMeyer went on record after New Moon came out saying that there was no question - Bella would wind up with Edward. *forehead smack* OK, so there's ANOTHER potentially riveting storyline getting the ax prematurely. At least JK Rowling had the good sense to TEASE everyone about Harry/Hermione/Ron and not just spoil the fun, even though the pairing-off was only a minor sub-plot.

Two: the characters. Jacob is the ONLY three-dimensional character in this mind-numbingly idiotic world. In the words of a far-wittier patron of Fandom Wank than myself, "it's almost like he walked in from a BETTER series." Bella, our heroine, makes me want to put a gun barrel in my mouth and not even in a good, angsty way! In a "...well, there's no way I'm ever going to meet a more thoroughly boring and undeserving person and the fact that she's being lauded as a role-model is proof enough for me that life is no longer worth living" way. She's apparently "plain" but half the guys in school trip all over themselves just to talk to her and, OF COURSE she can't stand this and finds them all utterly annoying and unworthy of her precious, plain and unextraordinary time (way to make friends in a new school, Bella). She meets Edward and within a year CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT HIM, OMG. And when he leaves her in the second book? SHE SPENDS MONTHS WALLOWING BECAUSE HER LIFE IS WORTHLESS. Because we women-folk 'tain't nuthin without our man. (SMeyer justifies this by saying "WELL, IT WAS TRUE LOVE! SO THE LOSS OF SELF-WORTH IS OK!" Exactly how we should be building up the unrealistic expectations of MILLIONS upon MILLIONS of impressionable, hormone-ridden teenage girls who ALREADY dramatize their lives to the point of self-harm. Mark my words, there will be an increase in break-up-fueled suicide-by-cliff-diving-attempts in the coming years. THANK YOU, BELLA, FOR MAKING ME WANT TO EAT MY OWN VAGINA.) And yet that's nothing compared to the emotional manipulation she uses in Eclipse in order to keep Edward from risking his frightfully (and yet, still somehow, utterly boring) invincible life. SMeyer apparently didn't think women have been stereotyped enough by male authors as whiny, coercive and manipulative, so she rectified that and made her female character whiny, coercive, manipulative, self-absorbed AND yet, somehow, perfect. Go SMeyer!

More glaringly (and I can't stress this enough, considering he's the effing LOVE INTEREST) Edward. Is. Boring. Perfection is BORING. He drives perfectly. He schools perfectly. He looks perfectly. He plays the piano perfectly. His family is perfect. His house is perfect. "A tribute to some forgotten pagan god of beauty". BRB, going to spend the next 50+ years single because I've given the male population an impossible standard it can never manage to match...

Three: WHY THE HELL DOES EDWARD LOVE BELLA? Like, AT ALL? He becomes infatuated with her because he can't read her mind. OK. That makes her interesting. Her blood is his "brand" of heroin... Um, OK. That makes her... delicious? IT IS ALL LUST. She wants him because he's "perfect," he wants her because, I dunno, he gets the shakes when he goes through withdrawals? None of this does anything to quell Bella's ~~crotch-punchingly annoying~~ inferiority complex when it comes to their relationship. And how does SMeyer resolve this low self-esteem? Does Bella suddenly realize, after huge trials and some self-realization and/or personal epiphanies, that she IS an amazing individual with a lot to offer someone - even a perfect/god-like/statuesque vampire like Edward? NO. She goes through a magical transformation that changes her looks and her skills so that she, too, is perfect (Also, she is BORING. "Oh, she's HUNTING in a ripped cocktail dress and stilletos! SHE'S SO INTERESTING AND COOL." Except, again, I reiterate - PERFECTION IS BORING.)

ALSO. Imprinting on babies. EW. Justify it all you want by saying it's like siblings... "He's her care-taker! Like a big brother!" That just makes it even CREEPIER when she gets the boobs and pubes and suddenly he wants to hump her leg. IT WILL NEVER STOP BEING GROSS.

ALSO ALSO: Bella and Jacob had way better chemistry. Bella also somehow managed to have a personality and I wanted to punch my own crotch just a little less when she was with him in New Moon.

ALSO^3: Nice to leave us hanging on Alice's backstory.

...and I'm done.

Don't hate.

The Digested Bible: Genesis

2009-08-02T08:02:00.000-07:00

(In an effort to digest more of what I read whilst Bibling, I'm going to attempt to condense each book into bite-sized portions in the hopes that it'll be easier for me to remember its particular themes. It's also my intention to avoid offending or mocking - however, I learn best with humor, so please keep that in mind.)

Background: Uuuuh, the whole book is "background".

In the beginning, God was... lonely. So He did some creative thinking and creatively thought the world into being.

Now, everyone agreed that was pretty awesome but it didn't alleviate the loneliess. So He took it one further and put together what He called "man". Everyone agreed that was even awesomer. Then? Nap time.

Duly noting that loneliness is depressing, God reworked the early model and created "woman" (...perhaps an improvement on the first draft?). If being alone was "not good," then being together was... trouble. Rule-breaking was all the rage in Eden at the time apparently and Adam and Eve (woman) were soon wearing the latest in the Spring 00000000 BC Foliage.

Chagrined and saddened, God punted them out of the garden for their own good.
(Genesis 1-3)

A&E had nothing much to do in those days which, as it often does, lead to babies.... Which lead to more babies. And more babies... and still more babies. Then some serious debauchery. More babies. More debauchery. And then, Noah.
(Genesis 4-5)

Not pleased at all with the orgiastic tendencies, God decided to reboot and restart. But before the great Ctrl+Alt+Delete, He had Noah (the "prude") build a big-ass boat to save all the animals who weren't too busy fornicating to show a little gratitude.

~~Rocks~~ rain fell, everyone died. And Noah enjoyed himself for another 350 years, repopulating the earth.
(Genesis 6-11)

More babies, more babies, more babies and then Abram, who God took a shine to, promising him land and more babies than you could shake a stick at. Abram and his smokin hot (but barren) wife, Sarai, traveled on with Lot, his nephew, & Co., causing a ruckus pretty much everywhere they went. Pharoah fell for Sarai, Sodom & Gomorrah were destroyed, Lot's wife turned into a pillar of salt... typical shenanigans. God eventually sat Abram down and said, "Look, I want to bless you - A LOT. Have babies. A LOT of babies."

Sarai was pretty skeptical, so she did what any logical woman would do - send her maidservant to do the birthing for her (duh). Not pleased, God clarified that, no, really, Sarai would have a baby and from the kid would many (many, many, many, many, many, many, many)more kids spring forth. And because He's God, it happened. Sarai was, I assume, pretty embarrassed.
(Genesis 12-21)

Not totally certain of Abraham (the Artist Formerly Known as Abram)'s loyalty, God tells him to sacrifice his son, Isaac, then is all "Lulz, jk jk jk jk!"; Sarah (formerly Sarai) dies; Isaac falls in love with Rebekah; and though he takes another wife, Abraham soon dies too.
(Genesis 22-25)

Following in his father's footsteps, Isaac winds up causing a lot of trouble while still managing to do quite a lot right. When he feels the stink of death creeping in, he tries to bless his son Esau but Jacob, the other son, ain't having none of that. Esau's (rightfully) pee-ohed and while he's busy shaking his fist, Jacob flees. It ain't all bad, though, as he falls hard and fast for Rachel and winds up getting Leah as a bonus second wife (score!). Par for the course, though, he tricks his father-in-law, Laban, into giving him most of his stuff. Laban's (rightfully) pee-ohed and while he's busy shaking his fist, Jacob flees.
(Genesis 26-31)

When his conscience finally catches up with him, Jacob shamefacedly returns to his brother but only after he wrestles with God, gets a new name (Israel) and lives to tell about it. Esau and Jacob reunite, weep like little girls and bury the hatchet.

Trouble doesn't end there though. Jacob's daughter gets raped and, as punishment, her brothers decide to do a little retalitory circumcision... on the entire town.

And then kill them.
(Genesis 32-34)

Isaac and Rachel die. Esau and Jacob have babies. And then they have more babies. And then their babies have babies. And then, Joseph.

There seems to be a pattern in Abraham's lineage - they all have a knack for getting into trouble. Joseph somehow manages to get his father's favor... and then get sold into slavery by his jealous brothers. And although he becomes a pretty hoity-toity servant for Pharoah, he still somehow gets himself thrown in prison for not sleeping with Pharoah's wife.
(Genesis 35-39)

But like his father's before him, Joseph finds a way to become Mr. Popularity even in jail. His reputation precedes him and it isn't long before he's schmoozing with Pharoah again and pretty much running the place.

His brothers, on the other hand, weren't doing so hot. Suffering from the famine and drought, Dad sent them to Egypt to get provisions. Joseph gets his revenge with fraudulant charges of robbery before saying, "Lulz, jk jk jk jk! It's me, the brother you shoved in a hole and then sold! No hard feelings?"

And then all become roomies until Joseph dies.
(Genesis 40-50)

The Digested Bible: Judges

2009-07-16T08:23:00.000-07:00

I'm getting better at this

2009-07-03T19:14:00.000-07:00

I'm attempting to make this less confusing and more aesthetically pleasing...

There is certainly a whole lot more to formatting the HTML that I could learn and I'm sure that if I took a class I'd be a lot better off. However, I seem to be doing fairly well on my own.

I'm figuring out what I want to do and ignoring the rest.

Conversations with my Creator: part 4

2009-06-26T18:04:00.000-07:00

ME: So I've been doing some research...

GOD: Alright.

ME: And I think I've figured out why You do what You do.

GOD: Really?

ME: Yeah. It took quite a bit of effort and energy and blood, sweat, tears, etc., etc., but I'm pretty sure I've got You pegged.

GOD: Huh. Well, kudos! What do you plan on doing with this information?

ME: Well, now that I KNOW, I figure I can make some more concrete plans. I mean, since I've cracked Your code and subsequently solved the equation You use for running things, I can apply it to everyday living.

GOD: You're aware that a lot of people have tried that before, right?

ME: Yup.

GOD: And you think you got it right where they hadn't?

ME: Yes.

GOD: And you're also aware of the fact that the whole basis of My being, you know, GOD, is My unknowable, incomprehensible, impenetrable, all-encompassing sovereignty?

ME: Sure am.

GOD: OK. Just checking.

ME: I'll talk to You later. I'm gonna go try to ride this thing.

GOD: Good luck!

~20 MINUTES LATER~

ME: OK, what was that all about?

GOD: Hm?

ME: Don't play coy with me! None of that fit into the equation ANYWHERE!

GOD: I never said it would.

ME: Did I forget to carry the one or transpose a number or four?

GOD: No. You had a sound argument; it definitely seemed to make sense. I can see why you followed it.

ME: But it didn't work!

GOD: Again, I never claimed that it would. You made the assumption.

ME: Alright then. I'm going to try this again. This time, I'll have You check my work.

GOD: OK.

~2 MONTHS LATER~

ME: OK. OK, THIS time I got it.

GOD: Again, it looks feasible.

ME: So I'm right?

GOD: No.

ME: How does that even make sense?

GOD: What do you mean?

ME: If it's so logical that You can understand why I'd use it, how can it be wrong?

GOD: It's not "wrong". Not in the sense you mean, at least.

ME: Um, what?

GOD: You don't know everything.

ME: Right.

GOD: I do.

ME: Thanks. Rub it in.

GOD: How can you expect to figure this whole Life thing out when you have no clue what's coming down the pike? You can apply reasons and logic to the past because it's static; it won't move. But as far as YOU know, the future has a gabjillion possibilities, each as likely as the next.

ME: "A gabjillion," huh?

GOD: Yes. It's a new number; I just made it up. I can do that. Because I'm God.

ME: So you keep reminding me.

GOD: Because you keep forgetting.

ME: So what, I'm just supposed to stop trying to figure out what's going to happen and just, like... let it happen?

GOD: Yes.

ME: How in tarnation am I supposed to do that?

GOD: By trusting Me. Uh duh.

ME: Guh! Why does it always come back to THAT?! I suck at that!

Important!

2009-06-18T01:41:00.001-07:00

If you aren't aware (and many of you probably aren't), Iran held their elections for a new leader this past week and in a stunning upset, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad was declared the winner with 62.6% of the votes. His pro-reform rival, Mir Hossein Mousavi, expressed possible problems with the ballot prior to the revolt against the alleged victory. The same day Mousavi wrote the letter, all SMS was cut off in Iran and forced the population to turn to Twitter to communicate quickly.

As the revolt grew in defiance of the outcome so did the violence escalate against the protesters. On the 13th, all social networking sites were inexplicably blocked and the internet became impossibly slow, preventing Iranians from speaking out to the world about the true events. Many were able to log on to the blocked/tracked social sites via third-party proxies, but Twitter, with the quickest load time and easiest accessibility, remains the most widely used.

As the victory rally marched, university students taunted and provoked the riot police but at the urging of Mousavi, most events were kept peaceful. Riot and plain-clothes police roamed about, however and subsequently beat, shot at (WARNING! GRAPHIC) and pummeled. Homes and dorms are being systematically searched and attacked.

There is only so much that can be done from anyone outside of Iran. Information is being monitored and severely censored - both coming in and going out - and it's become increasingly hard to discern which accounts are genuine and which are manufactured by the opposition. Outraged people from all over are reposting confirmed news feeds, protecting identities and setting up third party proxies to help keep the protesters safe for the time being. But even that's dangerous, as one anonymous Twitterer found out after being attacked on the streets of Ohio for his involvement.

This is not just an Iranian issue - it's a humanity issue. All we can do is so little, but that should just make it easier.

How you can help:

Stay informed: A few sources have proven more even-handed than others, the BBC being one. If you have a Twitter account (and who doesn't these days?), follow the #IranElection feed and ReTweet (RT) valid information. Saeed Valadbaygee's blog, Revolutionary Road is also an up-to-the-minute source from within the firing range.

Don't re-post names!: They ARE tracking these things and if they can find a way to target a college student in Ohio, don't think they won't do much worse to those in their own country.

Set up proxies: No, I don't know how to do this, but ProtesterHelp has a great page for directing those less inept than me.

If I get a chance, I'll post more about it, but please check out the other sources above. People are dying for a freedom that we take for granted and the world is ignoring them.

God knows no country, no race, no political affiliation and no gender. Neither should we.

Freddie

2009-06-09T13:08:00.000-07:00

Life, to me, feels like one big ocean. One day we’re tossed in, alone for the most part, and expected to keep our head above water – yet no one has clear instructions how to do so. Our parents are supposed to teach us the basics but when your mother is a Meth addict, who’s barely treading water herself, you learn to grab a hold of anything that’ll keep you afloat.

Without my mother available to guide my strokes, I was left to my father and two brothers. Before long I began looking for the intimacy my heart was starved of in the arms (and bodies) of others. In them I’d hoped I’d find a life-preserver I could cling to when the ocean’s waves got too turbulent but every single time I’d grab hold of someone new I found they, too, were unstable and sinking just as fast.

After three years of struggling just to breathe, I moved from Montana to Arizona at the invitation of my older brother. It was here that I heard about the God who’d been searching for me and for the first time I broke the surface. I accepted Christ as life-saver and it was then that my ocean’s waves stopped being merely choppy and became a merciless hurricane.

Winter found me pregnant as the gale-force winds of the storm battled against the love of my Savior. I wrestled the tide alone but after eighteen years I couldn't hold myself above water any longer. On December 24th, 2005, I had an abortion.

Three years passed as I let myself drown and each swell in the current hurled me farther and farther away from security. Another pregnancy, a miscarriage, a suicide attempt by overdose, two STD's from different guys... each pull of the tide was relentless in its violence. I thought that in giving in I would find peace but the desire to live was too strong even amidst such a beating. With each breath I deprived myself of the cry from my soul grew louder. Trying to keep my own head above the surface had proved futile yet I discovered that succumbing to the ebb and flow of the sea was far more painful than fighting it. I was dying for Life but began to realize I wasn’t capable of sustaining it if all I had to rely on was my own strength.

It was then I remembered the life-preserver I’d accepted – and then ignored – all those years ago. I’d been struggling to fill myself; to satisfy myself; to save myself. But it was never enough. Through it all, though, salvation was calling; over the roar of the wind and the crashing of the waves, it asked why I was turning from the only One who could rescue me. This time when I surrendered, it wasn’t to myself and it wasn’t to the deep – it was to my Savior.

As my heart has healed, it's grown. I've found a passion for the God that loves me recklessly blossoming more and more each day and I've decided that Christ didn’t kinda die for me, so I wasn’t going to kinda live for Him. He gave me everything and I want to give it all back.

I know what it’s like to drown in the ocean of life. And now I know what it’s like to breathe.

(This is the true story of a friend, written for Central Christian Church and it's with her permission that I post it here. Stories like hers should be shouted from the rooftops. Our God truly is incredible.)

SOMEONE NEEDS TO STOP ME

2009-06-02T01:09:00.000-07:00

This blog is becoming all about my burgeoning Photoshop skills.

Really, I should just pick a layout and stick with it.

BUT THIS IS TOO MUCH FUN.

(I swear, I'm doing actual writing in my free time and will post something soon. I wouldn't lie. Lying is a sin.)

HECK YEAH

2009-05-28T18:28:00.000-07:00

I swear, if Dreamworks remakes this and doesn't release the original film, I'm going to punch someone. In the throat.

Longer 'Paranormal Activity' trailer

Rumor has it that it'll be out later this year but I'm not holding my breath...

Yeah, I did it again...

2009-05-19T01:57:00.000-07:00

I really didn't like the last layout too much. I started on this one last night before my computer froze and I lost all my random tinkering.

In all honesty, I think it looks better than it did last night.

No new ideas and my long break from work is over tomorrow, so this one might stick for awhile...

And we're back to this...

2009-05-17T02:06:00.000-07:00

Now that school is out, I have more free time on my hands and have been playing around with Photoshop again.

Enjoy the bazillion new layouts that are sure to come.

10 Things: Everyone will let you down

2009-05-14T18:16:00.000-07:00

10 Things I Wish I'd Known When I Was A Teenager

Everyone will let you down
(Disappointment is what humans do best)

“Sometimes the measure of friendship isn't your ability to not harm but your capacity to forgive the things done to you and ask forgiveness for your own mistakes.” (Randy K. Milholland, Something Positive Comic)

“For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23)

In the early 2000’s MTV had a popular show called Jackass that my sister was a fan of. The premise was fairly straightforward. Every week, half a dozen college-aged gentlemen would beat the snot out of themselves and each other in the oddest ways possible purely for the entertainment of millions.

Steve-O (Stephen Glover) is one of the performers that arose out of the infamy created by Jackass, most notable for swallowing and then puking up a goldfish as well as kicking an unholy number of excited young men in the nards. Along with the rest of the cast, he became a kind of anti-hero for a new generation of kids to whom corporate America and nine-to-five cubicle dwelling didn’t appeal. Here was a guy who made a living – and a good one at that – doing what every twelve to twenty-two year old guy did in his basement, garage or Circle K parking lot. For a half-hour every week, Johnny Knoxville, Bam Margera, Steve-O & Co tested homemade human slingshots, pierced butt cheeks together and wrestled alligators while I frequently found myself wondering, “…are they on something?”

As it turns out, they were. Or Steve-O was at least.

May of 2009 premiered Steve-O: Demise and Rise, a candid look at the life he lived when the Jackass cameras weren’t rolling. Steve-O documented his own day-to-day activities, including the voluminous consumption of drugs like nitrous oxide, cocaine, amphetamines and alcohol (just to name a few), the frequent run-ins with the law and the eventual intervention Knoxville led after Steve-O threatened suicide with the disturbing declaration, “I’m ready to fucking die.”

What followed was a 14-day stint that started at Cedars-Sinai for observation and culminated in a transfer to rehab. Now more than thirteen months clean and sober, Steve-O is taking a possibly humiliating (and definitely humbling) path by broadcasting his coked-out, drunken shenanigans in an hour-long documentary that pulls no punches. “The abusive behavior that I feel will haunt me for the rest of my life can be summed up by the words "verbal and emotional attacks on my loved ones,”” he wrote in a blog post while still in the hospital last year. “At this point in my life I find myself hoping that I will be able to forgive myself for similarly selfish acts that my own addiction led me to commit.”

I don’t think many people would have ever set Steve-O or Johnny Knoxville or any of the other members of the Jackass cast up as role-models – at least not many adults. I know plenty of teenagers and college students who touted the show as an inspiration to their weekend activities and held it as an example to emulate, many times with painful results. Steve-O has even admitted to not being an ideal figure to follow, especially now that the truth is out about his problems. He messed up and he knows it and unlike most busted celebrities who wind up caught with their hands in the cookie jar, he’s admitting he did a lot of damage to himself and those he loves – willingly. And while I still can’t watch the show, I have an immense amount of respect for him and the rest of the Jackass crew. Major fuck-ups are a malady that strikes everyone; because of the fall, none are immune. But they aren’t what define us. The greatest test of our human and spiritual mettle comes when we have to make a decision about how we’ll respond when mistakes are made by us and to us.

Failure: The Great Equalizer

“We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way” (Isaiah 53:6)

I’m going to admit something that I found shocking, even unbelievable, when it was first brought to my attention:

I’m not perfect.

Now take a moment and let that simmer for a bit before you say anything. I’d guess that on some level everyone believes they know what they’re doing all the time but it becomes the most pronounced between the ages of 13 and 20. There’s a kind of naïve arrogance that’s nourished by hormones and reluctant to acknowledge the existence of anything other than sex, grades, friends, music and money. Most are self-aware enough to refrain from saying it out loud but somewhere buried deep, there’s a smug little voice repeating, “Yeah, I know” over and over and over again.

This is one of the juicy nuggets I’ve come to terms with in the past seven years that I doubt would have made any difference had someone slapped me upside the head with it whilst I was a young lass. I don’t know how or when I came to such a disappointing conclusion; it seems to have been gradual rather than instantaneous. And while it cracked the very foundation my world was built on, my world itself didn’t crumble along with it. Of course I had no idea I’d been so self-absorbed until, suddenly, inexplicably, I wasn’t anymore. While I could comfort myself with the fact that I no longer had my head up my ass, I also had to face the reality that I’d been a self-righteous turd for a very long time.

Luckily, I’m in some good company. History is littered with self-righteous turds who made some seriously awful decisions and still wound up as fan favorites.

Samson: Meathead listens to his loins and not God

The period in Israel’s past that precedes the reign of the kings is documented in the book of Judges. In it, God chose several men to be judges (hence the name) prior to getting an official monarchy, one of whom was Samson.

An angel of the Lord gives Manoah, Samson’s pappy, the heads-up that his wife will be birthing a son who’s to be set aside for God. The boy grows up to be quite the drama queen (after taking down a thousand men he whines, “You have given your servant this great victory. Must I now die of thirst and fall into the hands of the uncircumcised?”) and finds his way into a lot of troubling situations that follow a simple pattern – weakness toward the lady bits.

Samson’s impressive (and superhuman) strength becomes a source of tension among the neighboring Philistines but he manages to evade their earliest attempts at defeating him, only pissing them off further. But after witnessing his soft spot for the fairer sex (or, rather, sex in general), they throw a bombshell named Delilah in his path and poor Sammy’s brain goes soft (while more southern regions become noticeably less so). He succeeds in craftily thwarting his double-agent lover a couple of times before she finally weasels the pertinent information out of him – namely, the source of his strength – and uses it to make him “weak as any other man”.

David: Chosen king listens to his loins and not God

Most remembered for the defeat of Goliath while still an awkward kid, David also wrote some of the most passionate and beautiful psalms in the Bible, hinting at an intense and intimate relationship with his Creator. When hand-picked to succeed Saul as king, Samuel even calls him “a man after God’s own heart”.

So it’s totally understandable that this righteous and God-fearing ruler spent his free time as a leering creeper. And honestly, who wouldn’t plot to murder the husband of the woman they impregnated? After all, it’s not adultery if she isn’t married and she can’t be married if she’s widowed after her husband is slaughtered on the battlefield. No harm, no foul.

Peter: First head of Christ’s church pusses out at the worst possible moment

Everyone knows someone like Peter: excitable, eager to please and willing to commit to something – anything – before having all the facts. These are the kids who wind up in the hospital after someone suggests trying to parachute off the roof with a bed sheet or seeing how many Barbie shoes would fit up one nostril.

Peter’s the disciple who scampers out of boat to follow Jesus’ steps on the water and promptly begins sinking. He also argues with Jesus only to wind up with the unfortunate nickname “Satan”. While enthusiastic in his devotion, his track record is already pretty pathetic when Passover begins and he’s told he’s going to deny Christ not once but three times in the span of less than 24 hours. And surprisingly this foresight does nothing to hold his tongue when the time comes.

But hey, at least he’s not Judas.

Michelle: Naïve twenty-two year old listens to her loins and not God

“Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst.” (1 Timothy 1:15)

I’ve already given you the low-down on Dave and the bitch-slapping God gave me during the fiasco. What I haven’t talked about, however, are the consequences of my selfishness and the effects it had on my relationships, namely with two people I cared very much about.

While the decision to engage in some pre-marital nookie was mine alone to make, that doesn’t mean it didn’t affect those close to me. I mentioned that just a few months prior to the hookup I’d been in my first long-term serious relationship. The guy was (and still is) a phenomenal person and played a major role in making me who I am today. We didn’t split out of anger, so I didn’t put a pox on his house or burn all his pictures once we broke up; there wasn’t and never has been any animosity harbored on my end.

So why did I feel the need to broadcast my sexy antics where I knew he was likely to see them? I justified the unnecessary TMI by saying that I wasn’t doing anything wrong – we weren’t together and I was free to do whatever I wanted, with whomever I wanted. Which is true; it’s just not very nice. Some insecure part of my brain felt compelled to testify that I wasn’t doing anything wrong or going against my personal beliefs. So what if I was a free agent – I hurt someone dear to me. And that makes me a pretty heartless bitch.

Everyone else: (insert witty clipping here)

Does any of this sound familiar? When was the last time one of your posse talked smack about you behind your back? When did your father choose the NBA finals over Tuesday Night Tacos? Has your boyfriend ever ditched you for XBox just after your dog died from drinking anti-freeze?

I could tell you a bazillion stories of things I’ve done, had done to me or heard about being done. As quote above, Paul’s pretty clear in Romans who among us sucks: everyone. Whether it’s porn or gossip or cheating or murder, we’ve all got something going against us in the race for the purity crown. Left to our own devices, we’re all losers.

Alright, we’re all doucherockets. What now?

I’m not trying to depress you. My goal is not to drive a gun barrel in your mouth at the futility of it all. There’s a context to all our failure that so often gets overlooked or ignored when we’re drowning in our own pitiful tears and it’s quite possibly the only factor that makes any difference – at all – in life.

Forgiveness: What’s it to you?

“Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst. But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his unlimited patience as an example for those who would believe on him and receive eternal life.” (1 Timothy 1:15-16)

“…for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus.” (Romans 3:23-24)

The above verses are the all-important context that our missteps need to be placed in. Verses fifteen in 1 Timothy and twenty-three in Romans are, on their own, discouraging. But in light of the very next verses that follow, all the weight caused by the despair of our miserable predicament is made moot. It doesn’t matter what your sin of choice is – they’re all made irrelevant in on the context of grace.

So what’s the point? In the Lord’s prayer it’s stated “forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us”; Jesus says in Matthew that, “in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you”. But this isn’t about God giving us an eye for an eye; rather, it’s the other way around. Because I know what it’s like to be forgiven, I should be all the more ready to forgive others.

One of my very best friends, Carrie, also happens to be one of the people who have hurt me the most. We grew close after a few months of quiet dislike that were all but forgotten after one heavy dose of cough syrup and a ride to Applebee’s. We were inseparable for over a year from that moment on. She became the first person I’d call when I was worried about my boyfriend and when she got evicted from her apartment, my family opened up our home to her. She and I had one of those rare relationships where we could just sit in silence without the awkward need to entertain one another. Neither of us pulled any punches in the friendship – I knew I could trust her to be totally honest and vice versa. It’d been a long time since I’d felt so comfortable with another person and I would have put my life in her hands.

Then I found out that while she was staying with us, she’d stolen money from my mother.

I don’t think there are enough words to accurately convey the devastation I felt when confronted with the truth. I was angry, of course – and no one could begrudge me that. But looking back, the emotion that’s stirred up and the one that I’ll never be able to separate from these memories is overwhelming sadness. To begin with it’d been easy to believe that I’d simply been played but how could I reconcile that with the months and months of hysterical laughter and frightened tears that we’d spent together? I didn’t add up. Carrie was either a con artist who spent a year faking me out or she was the same girl I’d come to love… who’d made a mistake. A very large, very hurtful mistake – but still, just a mistake.

In the end I chose faith. I confronted her, she admitted to it and we both cried. I told her that my trust was shattered but that didn’t have to be permanent. She meant too much to me and I knew that something awful had to have happened to cause her to turn down that road. At that time she was losing everything because of the mistakes she’d been making and I wasn’t OK with jumping ship to let her tread water alone.

I don’t say this to convince you of my awesome powers of forgiveness or to prove that I’ve got this particular concept nailed. If anything, my motives were mostly selfish – giving her up as a poser would mean letting go of the strongest and closest friend I’d had since elementary school. This is the corniest way to put it but I value laughter too much to let that go. Aside from the contentment I found in earnestly trying to follow my faith, I got an even better reward – Carrie. It took years to repair the damage but now I can honestly say that there’s nothing our friendship can’t withstand. We both worked damn hard to hold onto what we had and the result has been something better than we ever had to begin with. If God can get us through all this shit, I now have faith that neither of us will let go anytime soon – if ever.

Get to the point

Samson, after being blinded due to his own gullibility (and libido) and losing his massive strength, still took down the Philistines. David became the man from whom Jesus would draw his lineage. Peter was the rock on which Christ built His church. I’ve managed not to kill anyone so far and have become relatively intelligent and content. God blessed them despite being ridiculous fuck-ups and, even more incredibly, used them. If I’m honest, I’ll admit He’s blessed me beyond deserving and though I can’t imagine what He sees of value in my pathetic abilities, He’s promised that He has plans to use my life too.

So the point is this: We can’t avoid hurting people – especially those we love and are close to – nor can we avoid being hurt by them. But God saw all of our shitty choices and still decided a relationship with us was worth fighting for.

You’re worth fighting for. And so are they.

Allow me this brief interlude of sappy girlishness

2009-05-13T21:42:00.001-07:00

So the little 9 year-old girl that secretly directs all the important choices I make in life ("'East of Eden'? No, read 'Gone with the Wind'," "Why are you listening to Papa Roach when Celine Dion is downstairs, neglected for the last ten years?," "You don't want the simple brown dress - GET THE PINK TULLE NUMBER WITH SEVENTEEN LAYERS OF RUFFLES AND A 2' SATIN BOW.") is pretty much holding a Walther PPK .380 to my temple and demanding I post this.

I am ridiculously excited.

Disney Princess 2D animated musical + JAZZ BY RANDY NEWMAN = tingly lady parts

Happy Mother's Day

2009-05-10T10:27:00.000-07:00

I remember late nights playing Uno with Missy. I became an adult and you admitted that the only reason you were up into the wee hours of the morning was because of the anti-depressants, but that doesn't cancel out how much fun we had or how many tears of laughter we cried.

I remember seeing Beauty and the Beast in the theater - nine times - and how hard you searched for it when it came out on tape.

I remember a late night in December spent in the guest bathroom, watching our stray mutt give birth to four squirming, goo-covered pups. We spent hours trying to get Lil' Bit to nurse, terrified we might lose him if he didn't. The next six months we watched them grow in rambunctious, furry tornadoes and cried when we had to say goodbye.

I remember laying in our twin beds, listening as you read Missy and I "chapter books".

I remember Hi-C, bagels with butter and Bambi on VHS when I was sick.

Today we have Einstein's talks where we wile hours away discussing our frustrations and questions of faith and the sometimes not-so-subtle movement of God in our lives. We have shopping and fights and church and Law & Order: SVU. I have an attitude and you have your issues and often we butt heads. But we have each other. We always will.

I love you, Mom.

I am

2009-05-06T14:54:00.000-07:00

There are a lot of adjectives you could use to describe me: loud, selfish, arrogant, ignorant, cynical. I’m a million negatives and paltry few positives. I have a tendency to live in the past and count my scars over and over. I’m a hypocrite and I talk a good talk but fall when the time comes to walk. I like the illusion of control better than submission even when I know it’s nothing but smoke and mirrors. I am, in the end, nothing good.

I’m a painted vase on a shelf, all carefully drawn lines and colors and intricate designs. I’m lovingly crafted but empty still. I can be looked upon and praised but I’ll stand, useless, on my own. I am not filled; I can not fill myself.

I’m a child; stubborn, naïve, inexperienced. I’ve plugged my ears to wiser ones who’ve come before and made my path as smooth and passable as it is. I’m convinced that all I’ve achieved is from my own will and hands and heart. On my own I am incapable of reaching anything or surviving the things I’m obliviously protected from.

I am the prodigal son, asking for much and giving nothing, only to wind up with nothing. I am the elder son, indignant in my tenuous entitlement to the gift of Life.

I am Sarah, laughing at the promises given and doubting the abilities of an incredible God.

I am the woman at the well, letting my human wounds and fear move me to turn my back on faith.

I am Peter, placing so much value in what others think that I deny own salvation.

I am Thomas, asking skeptically for signs before I give my life.

I am Paul, doing what I don’t want to do and not doing what I do want to do.

I am so much and yet so little, all of it awful. I am the foremost of all sinners and everything wrong with this world.

And then, there’s You.

You are hushed and quiet; soft-spoken in the most violent of storms. You are incomprehensible, unstoppable, never-changing, all-consuming, everlasting. You are the reason the sun makes way for the moon at night and chases it again every morning. You are reliable in your consistency; unchanging but far from boring.

You are misunderstood, doubted, blamed and ignored yet you remain faithful to these skeptical people. You are not just everything good – You are everything and that which makes everything good.

You are the Light on the road to Damascus that opened Saul’s eyes and transformed him into Paul.

You are the wounds that convinced Thomas.

You are the forgiveness that redeemed Peter.

You are the Living Water that slaked the woman at the well’s thirst.

You are the Creator of Life that silenced Sarah’s cynicism.

You are the waiting Father, welcoming both the wayward and the self-righteous with open arms.

You are where I began and where I will end.

You are the Friend I run to; the Father I want to make proud; the Lover who encompasses all that I desire. You are the unconditional love I am desperate to receive and anxious to emulate.

You are all that I’m not. On my own I can do so little, but because of who You are, I find I believe that I can.

My nerdism knows no bounds

2009-04-28T11:54:00.000-07:00

Whilst partying at the Phoenix Improv Fest on the final night, I found out that one of our former directors now works at the Chicago Museum of Science and Industry and is responsible for heading up this:

Harry Potter: The Exhibition

I hadn't planned on taking any vacations this summer in order to save money but Ashley appealed to my inner nerd. The Resort also has a property located on the Miracle Mile so I can get a pretty decent rate.

THIS IS JUST WHAT I NEED TO HELP GEAR ME UP FOR 'HALF-BLOOD PRINCE'.

Do you want to WIN AT YELLING?

2009-04-23T18:39:00.000-07:00

I should post something that amounts to more than "LULZ, INTERNET" but, um... here's a series of youtube commercials that will make you NEED NEW PANTS.

Man, I heart you, internets.

Conversations with my Creator: part 3

2009-04-13T16:07:00.000-07:00

*ring ring*

*ring ring*

*ring ring*

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's Me."

"Oh hey! Listen, I'm on the other line with Kat. Can I call You back? Will You be there?"

"Of course!"

"Awesome. Lemme finish up with her and I'll call You right back."

~ 12 HOURS LATER ~

*ring ring*

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's Me."

"Oh crap. I'm sooooo sorry! Ma and I went to lunch after I got off the phone and I totally forgot!"

"It happens. It's cool."

"Gah, I hate to do this but I'm driving to work. Can I call You back when I'm off?"

"Sure! Or, you know, you could call Me from work if you want."

"Love to but I don't think I'll have the time. And they kinda frown on that sort of thing."

"Alright. Well, I'll be here either way."

"'K. I'll talk to You later."

~ NEXT DAY ~

*ring ring*

"Hello?"

"Hi! Me again."

"Hey, I'm actually in the middle of the new Mythbusters. Could we talk when it's over? They're strapping rockets to a sled and pancaking a car!"

"Haha! OK, that's fine!"

~ THAT EVENING ~

*ring ring*

*ring ring*

*ring ring*

*ring ring*

"Hey, it's Michelle. I'm either away from my phone or screening my calls to avoid someone. Leave me a message and if I don't call back, it's you."

"To leave a voice message, press one now or just wait for the tone."

*TONE*

"Hey Michelle, it's Me. Haven't talked to you in awhile. I know you're busy but whenever you get a moment I'll be here. I'd really love to catch up."

~ 3 DAYS LATER ~

*ring ring*

"Hey there."

"Um, hi. How're You doing?"

"Divine. As usual."

"Listen, I need some help."

"I know."

"And I know I have no right to ask since I've totally blown You off and taken You for granted... but I have nowhere else to go. I've kinda fucked everything up trying to do things my way. So... yeah."

"I know."

"I was kinda expecting You to, like, not answer in fact. I wouldn't blame You."

"I know."

"So, seriously, if You don't wanna hear it, I'll understand."

"I have nothing else I'd rather do than wait for you to come to me. I knew you would and I knew it'd only happen when you needed something."

"Geez, why? Why would You put up with me? At least make me beg for forgiveness or something. I've been a selfish douche-rocket; I deserve it."

"I Love you. And you're here now because you WANT to be here. That's enough for Me."

"I wouldn't be that way, You know, if the tables were turned."

"I guess it's a good thing I'm not human."

"Yeah, I guess."

"and still obeys"

2009-04-08T12:42:00.000-07:00

This is from C.S. Lewis' The Screwtape Letters, which is actually the first Lewis book I ever read (though I doubt I understood half of what I do now). It's the (fictional) correspondence between an elder demon, Screwtape, and his protege nephew, Wormwood, wherein he extolls advice and guidance learned from years of experience tempting the human race. The entire book is absolutely phenomenal and a rude awakening for believers as it reveals very clever ways our enemy manipulates us. The following is, however, a beautiful description of faith and I feel like a nerd for tearing up at work over it:

"He wants them to learn to walk and must therefore take away His hand; and if only the will to walk is really there He is pleased even with their stumbles. Do not be deceived, Wormwood. Our cause is never more in danger, than when a human, no longer desiring, but intending, to do our Enemy’s will, looks round upon a universe from which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys."

Would that I journey through life's violent turbulence and frequent despair unable to quell the doubts and questions "and still obey".

Unexpected

2009-04-07T12:16:00.001-07:00

On my drive to work this morning I caught myself smiling for no reason.

It was nice.

10 Things: Dating is over-rated

2009-03-31T18:31:00.000-07:00

10 Things I Wish I'd Known When I Was A Teenager

Dating is over-rated
(The heart lies; be skeptical of everything it says)

“This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers.” (1 John 3:16)

“For light I go directly to the Source of light, not to any of the reflections.” (Peace Pilgrim, Mildred Lisette Norman)

Disclaimer: I am, quite possibly, the last person who should be trying to extol this particular granule of wisdom. While I tend to stay single for long periods of time, my attention is constantly occupied with thoughts of romance, either the prospect of or frustrations from. This is one of those times when “do as I say and not as I do” applies because God knows that I’m not the best example of living out this particular truth. In this case – as with many others – I may KNOW of how little importance dating is in the grand scheme of Life but convincing my heart that “true love” isn’t the Be All, End All has proven to be the single most difficult reality to confront. That being said I simply ask you to suspend your disbelief for the next fifteen minutes and allow me to be honest about something with which I continue to struggle in the hopes that, perhaps, you won’t be as thick as I’ve been and will succeed where I have failed.

There are few things in Life that can top the feeling of falling in love (I say this, however, as a twenty-six year-old virgin who’s never traveled outside the United States; infer from that what you may). Fifteen years ago I saw Beauty & the Beast nine times in the theater, memorized the soundtrack and eventually wore out the first VHS copy I had by watching it too much; eight years later I cried during the finale when it was rereleased in IMAX; to this day I still get chills when I hear “Once upon a time, in a far away land, a young prince lived in a shining castle….” To say I’m a romantic would be putting it very lightly; a sappy, naïve, pudding-brained school-girl is probably closer to my mindset.

A decade point five later and I’m still just as obsessed with love as I was at nine. I’ve gone through several break-ups, a near-engagement and one long-term coupling and still have yet to understand why this aspect of Life has me in a headlock. For years I thought my preoccupation was abnormal but I’ve come to find out that it’s not just me. Ninety-nine per cent (at least) of the girls I’ve discussed this with usually chime in with, “Oh, me too!” And the sad things is that ninety-nine per cent of those girls have been, at one point in time, punched in the gut (figuratively, if not literally) by love and still we cling to the belief that it’s worth a GINORMOUS amount of energy, time and passion.

I blame society

“Love ain’t nothing but sex misspelled.” – Harlan Ellison

Watch CW long enough (and by “long enough,” I mean “for thirty-nine seconds”) and someone will wind up pre-coital in bed, the shower or on their bff’s countertop; FX made a hit out of hookers, doctors and superficiality on Nip/Tuck; and Grey’s Anatomy had viewers wetting their pants when Meredith’s ass finally got tapped by Dr. McDreamy behind his wife’s back.

It’s the easiest way to piss off a female these days: dog the values of her favorite show/movie/book/song. I’m no prude, let’s be honest. And I’m not suggesting that boycotting every media stream promoting less-than pristine values is how to take a stand. What I want, though, is to point out that it’s hard, if not impossible, to maintain one set of values when all you’re getting fed are the opposite ones.

Sex sells. I hate that phrase but it’s oh, so, true (I know because it works on me). Throw a tawdry affair or a love triangle into a series and I’m a starving dog all over a piece of raw meat. I justify my affinity by saying that I’m not into it for the sweaty, copulating bodies – and that’s 100% true. What grabs my shoulders is the emotional angst. I’m satisfied if the naughty bits never touch. The idea of two people being soooo “in love” that they can’t stay away from each other does things to my insides and, obviously, I’m not alone in this because it shows up everywhere. My favorite show (right now) is House and the biggest on-going plot regards House’s ex, Stacy, and her disabled husband, Mark. She’s the only woman who ever came close to melting House’s frosty heart and at least twice she’s almost jumped ship to leave the wheelchair-bound Mark for a man who’s so emotionally out of touch he hires a private detective to get dirt on his best friend. Be still my heart!

What kind of standards are we expecting love to live up to when our newest god is an indestructible, filthy rich, diamond-encrusted vampire who composes songs spontaneously for his beloved on the piano, ingests poison to save her life, hangs on her every word and has been saving his rock-hard, tree-climbing body for her alone the last one hundred and seven YEARS? I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard girls (or grown women) coo something like “Edward wouldn’t say that” or “Edward wouldn’t do it that way” and every single time I want to kill kittens with toothpicks. Bella Swan, the “heroine” (and I use that term lightly) of the Twilight series spends a good four-fifths of the second book as a worthless, hollow shell of a character (even more so than she normally is) all because Edward alleged he never loved her. She then goes so far as to purposely endanger her life in the hopes of hearing his voice. Ladies, that’s how you know it’s REAL love: when you’re driven to schizophrenia

So, what have I learned about relationships? That the surly, gruff, sarcastic “bad boy” is really just a scared and scarred soul waiting to be loved? Or that I have no need for a life (or a personality) of my own if my high-school boyfriend decides I’m not worth his time any longer?

“That’s RETARDED, Michelle,” you’ll say. “I know the difference between real life and fiction.” And you’ll be absolutely right. Your brain knows the difference – but your heart doesn’t give a fat crap WHAT’S possible if all you’ve been feeding it is a steady diet of fantasy and manipulative writing. You’re also probably aware that a burrito from Chipotle is going to clog your arteries and piss off your intestines, but when was the last time you passed that up for a crisp wedge of iceberg lettuce and a bowl of fruit?

Aside from just being a vampire, Edward Cullen is, in every sense of the word, fictional. Any boy you bring home will either, A) ignore you to play excessive amounts of Halo; B) be more interested in touching your boobies than in discussing your dreams; C) have an unhealthy interest in Jessica Alba; or D) some unholy combination of the three. The guys you meet will be (shocker) human. And just as your humanity causes you to make ridiculously stupid mistakes, Mr. Hollister Jeans From The Food Court is going to let you down too.

We’re all sinners; it’s time you put on your big-girl panties and dealt with that fact. Love isn’t dictated 100% by the heart, no matter what One Tree Hill tells you. We’re given eyes to observe human behavior and brains to analyze it to the best of our ability. You’re smart enough to know eighty per cent of the time whether or not the guy two-fisting beers last night who you gave your number to is worth your energy – and your heart. So much more goes into Love than what they show you in prime time. Attraction, chemistry, fireworks – they’re important, sure, but so are respect, trust, compatibility and loyalty. I can guarantee that getting off isn’t going to satisfy you if he winds up screwing your sister.

Come on; get higher

“God is love.” – 1 John 4:16

Because of how high I’ve placed it on my List of Utmost Importance, love has always been the biggest booster of my self-esteem. On the flip side of that, it’s also the one factor that can bring on a severe depression of suicidal proportions. It’s too easy to convince me that I’m worth less when my heart gets broken by other fallible and confused humans. For as long as I can remember I’ve bought into the idea that to fall in love is the pinnacle of mortal achievement. So every time it fails to live up to that standard I’m left wondering where I fell short.

In my twenty-six years I’ve had six boyfriends and I cared about each of them very much. But for each relationship, there were a million little flaws and several big, ugly ones – on both sides. For each fairy-tale moment of euphoric romance there’s one of proportional size on the other end of the spectrum where I’m sobbing like Chris Crocker and ruining my eye make-up. This is unavoidable and if you’ve somehow dodged this bullet, just be patient – it’ll find you.

“This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.” – 1 John 4:10

No matter who you are or what you’ve been through, there’s a foundational longing to be loved buried deep. It comes from a depth unreachable and the stain it leaves spreads to every corner. It’s why we pretend to be something we’re not and why it crushes us to find it lacking from our lives. Every stretch for good grades, thighs that don’t touch or a Z3 comes from this one desire and no matter how far we go it’s never quite far enough.

I don’t expect anyone to believe me on this. Hell, I don’t even believe it even when the evidence is pounding my head against the curb. I can say all of this, day after day, year after year and still my heart waits to be proven wrong. I’m still expecting Prince Charming to show up, sweep me off my feet and take me into Happily Ever After. But people aren’t perfect and they’re going to screw up. If I keep searching for whole-hearted satisfaction in romance (or friends or career or money or…), I’m asking for perpetual disappointment.

Rich Mullins wrote in his song, If I Stand, that “there’s a love that is fiercer than the love between friends; more gentle than a mother’s when a baby’s at her side”. This is the kind of Love that isn’t bred from emotion or affection; this is a choice and a conscious decision to put someone else before you. As Paul says in 1 Corinthians, you “humbly consider others greater than your[self]” and that often means taking a lot of undeserved shit.

Real Love is beyond logic. It motivates the kind of action that someone on the outside would balk at for being stupid. This Love is what caused the father to welcome back the prodigal son with open arms and without hesitation. It’s what calls for rape victims to forgive their attackers. It’s why innocent people reach out to convicted felons who may never see outside prison walls again. And it’s what drove Christ to a ministry that ultimately led to death.

Being “in love” requires this Love but the simple truth is that they’re two separate entities. The first is beyond our control and needs two people to experience it. The second, on the other hand, is so independent and so outside the realm of all else that it can exist only by sheer will. It’s not wrapped in conditions; it doesn’t have to meet standards; it isn’t stymied when it’s not reciprocated. It’s there without explanation and in spite of any attempts to deny it. It just IS.

You can’t manage this; I can’t manage it. We’re human and we rely on rationale and logic to guide our days. Because of this damned “humanity,” we can’t really hope to give this brand of Love and we can’t expect to get it from those like ourselves. But I can guarantee you that knowing that won’t stop me from searching for it.

“If I discover within myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world” – C.S. Lewis

I just need to know where to look.

I am busy

2009-03-30T07:04:00.001-07:00

I have a bazillion and eleventeen things I want to write about and absolutely no time.

Never doubt my nerdish leanings

2009-03-22T23:00:00.000-07:00

My late-start English class, "The Study of Language", starts tomorrow at 4:25p.

And ends at 9:40p.

Lest you get the silly presumption that it's anything creative, let me put your mind at ease: five hours once a week of grammar, syntax and structure.

And no, I'm not being sarcastic when I say I'm irrationally excited.

"Don't be afraid; just have faith."

2009-03-19T12:00:00.000-07:00

(Mark 5:36)

How is that I've somehow missed this passage before?

I know how you feel

2009-03-16T21:07:00.000-07:00

This is what I do during rush hour too.

THIS THIS THIS THIS THIS

2009-03-16T08:51:00.000-07:00

"I remember one time Beaker and I were hiking on the Appalachian Trail, and he met some friends of his, so I walked into town. It was about a five-mile walk from the campsite down the trail..., down into town. And when I got there I went into a restaurant and I was having a steak, and this guy started talking to me and we had this great conversation. We were having a good time, and he said, "Hey look, it's dark and it's five miles up the road to your campground. Why don't I drive you up there?"

And I said, "Hey, great!"

And so we got in his car, and just as we pulled out from under the last light in that town, the guy said, "You know what, I should probably tell you that I'm gay."

And I said, "Oh! I should probably tell you that I am a Christian."

And he said, "Well, if you want out of the car..."

I said, "Why?"

And he said, "Well, I'm gay and you're Christian."

I said, "It's still five miles and it's still dark."

Then he said, "I thought Christians hated gays."

I said, "That's funny. I thought Christians were supposed to love. I thought that was our first command."

He said, "Well, I thought God hated gays."

And I said, "That's really funny because I thought God was love."

And then he asked me the big one. He said, "Do you think I will go to hell for being gay?"

Well, I'm a good Hoosier, and I puckered up to say, "Yes, of course you'll go to hell for being gay." I got ready to say that, but when I opened my mouth it came out, "No, of course you won't go to hell for being gay." And I thought to myself, 'Oh my God, I've only been in New Hampshire for one week and I've already turned into a liberal! What am I going to tell this guy now?'

Then I said to him, "No, you won't go to hell for being gay, any more than I would go to hell for being a liar. Nobody goes to hell because of what they do. We go to hell because we reject the grace that God so longs to give to us, regardless of what we do."

(Stolen from "An Arrow Pointing to Heaven", transcribed from a concert given in KY in 1994)

Must-read

2009-03-12T23:42:00.000-07:00

I'm rereading "An Arrow Pointing to Heaven", the biography of Rich Mullins for the nine-billion and sixth time. I'm at such a different point in my life that the chapter The Love of God has hit me with a new and brutal force. His song of the same name has even more of a gut-punch.

There's a wideness in God's mercy
I can not find in my own
And He keeps His fire burning
To melt this heart of stone
Keeps me aching with a yearning
Keeps me glad to have been caught
In the reckless, raging fury
That they call the love of God

Now I've seen no band of angels
But I've heard the soldier's song
Love hangs over them like a banner
Love within them leads them on
To the battle on the journey
And it's never gonna stop
Ever widening their mercies
And the fury of His love

Oh, the love of God
And oh, the love of God
The love of God

Joy and sorrow are this ocean
And in their every ebb and flow
Now the Lord a door has opened
That all hell could never close
Here I'm tested and made worthy
Tossed about but lifted up
In the reckless, raging fury
That they call the love of God

I can think of a dozen people who need to hear that and most of them already have. From my own paltry understanding I honestly wonder how many actually know it.

Because I certainly don't act like I do.

Are you sick of it yet?

2009-03-11T22:20:00.001-07:00

I hope not.

This is layout number four, I believe. I honestly don't have any other ideas and no new ones started so chances are this'll stick, at least for awhile. Personally, I think this one is missing something, I just don't know what. I may wind up going back to one of the previous layouts.

This is fun...

The co-existence of doubt and faith

2009-03-11T16:36:00.000-07:00

I stumbled upon a site called Afterall dot net while researching quotes on God's love. Its tagline is "Consider all. Test all. Hold onto the good." and in the same way I identify with and respect Rich Mullins and Brennan Manning, I appreciate the work the creator, Nathan Jacobson, is doing. There's a humble honesty in the words he posts about his persistent doubts and questions. I am not a person who can resist being angry with God at times and yet I don't believe that bothers Him. The anger stems from a place that longs to know and understand Him and it appears only when that comprehension is thwarted. I am angry because I can not grasp God as fully as I would like. Yeah, it builds a sense of self-entitlement, as if He owes me an explanation, but I'm not usually so thick that I don't slap my own cheek in exasperation when I recognize it.

Perhaps it's conceit, but I am comforted knowing I'm not the only one with these struggles. I feel less alone and it justifies the existence of my constant inquiries. That could be a dangerous path if it's incorrect. I don't know.

But I'm sure God will show me if it is.

I'm good at what I do

2009-03-10T18:27:00.000-07:00

We have a new employee incentive program at The Resort where you get a free lunch at the new restaurant for every mention received from a guest.

I've gotten three in the last month.

That's more than anyone else has since the inception.

It's kinda ironic and sad that I gave up eating out for Lent and can't take advantage of tasty free meals until Easter.

To say thanks

2009-03-08T12:57:00.000-07:00

Acknowledging my lack of pure faith has opened a door to a kind of humble thankfulness that I didn't know was missing before. To realize that apart from God, even something as simple as faith isn't truly possible has taken my defeated thoughts and added hope - and I haven't seen that around these parts in a very long time.

For awhile I've believed (without really knowing it) that Christianity replaced my humanity and made it easier to handle the oh-so-common struggles that pester everyone. When life got difficult, I muddled through without really attempting to alleviate my burden onto Him other than the occasional shouting match or sob-fest. And maybe my so-called strength was enough to pull me through in the past but once it cut a bit too close to the heart I hit a wall. All the methods I'd used before not only weren't working to get me through but were plunging the knife deeper with each attempt. I kept pushing and pushing... and the wound grew. It never occured to me that the problem was as much my approach as the actual problem. I was all talk when it came to trusting God but when the rubber met the road and I was called to live up to all I said, I couldn't. I still can't. My struggles seem so simple and the solution is so clear but my humanness holds me back.

But now I see it. I no longer believe I'm filled with an unshakeable, 100% rock-solid trust. I know that even though I want to be all faithful, all the time, I'm not. I've relied on my own pitiful strength because I didn't think the faith I did have would be enough. Or, rather, I didn't think God would make up the difference when my faith fell short.

Pain is not evidence that I'm going the wrong way; it's nothing more than a consequence of life. And faith isn't the anaesthetic that numbs the ache - it's the hope that comes from knowing that there is more on the other side. Trusting God won't make the mountains fall but it will give me the stamina to climb every last one in my path.

What I thought was faith wasn't and that realization has pushed me back to Start. I've been left empty-handed and all the things that I thought made me "better" have been stripped from my grasp. I'm standing - naked, useless, and humiliated - with all that I prided myself on around my ankles. It's all nothing more than bullshit and it doesn't mean anything, not to Him. I literally have nothing to give that He needs. But I have something He wants.

"There. Now THIS I can work with."

Spiritual fraud

2009-03-06T12:45:00.001-08:00

God and I had a fight last night. I lost, much to my surprise.

For the past year my question has been "Why can't I give it up? How is that I continue to struggle with the illusion of control?" If know that A) God is ultimately the one in control and B) what He has in store is 900 gazillion times better than anything I could plan, why am I still so stubbornly refusing to acknowledge my own powerlessness?

I don't trust God. It's as simple as that. My faith, as it stands, is insufficient to sustain the "correct" actions that Christianity promotes. My humanity taints and dilutes the innocent trust that faith necessitates and my ability to follow the narrow path suffers as a consequence. For the past twenty-six years I've allowed my heart to gather and collect bitterness, cynicism and doubt from a sad little sense of self-entitlement. "Somehow, life owes me a crabmeat salad." And now the result is the stunted growth of a heart that desperately wants to chase the freedom of total abandon and trust yet doesn't even know how to try.

The truth is that I'm hopeless. I can't do anything right of my own volition because my present is colored by the heartbreak in my past. I've allowed negativity to creep up and extinguish every flame that even threatens to burn. I am so utterly alone on an island I built, stocked and swam to. I can not manage to give up because a part of my brain questions whether anyone or anything will truly be there to catch me. It all falls on my shoulders. And I can't sustain it. I'm not meant to.

"The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak."

"And He has said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.""

Faith isn't even sustainable apart from Him. My eyes are from this world and they are blinded by everything they've seen. Where my human strength causes me to fall short of my lofty goals Christ meets me. Once again, I am saved.

Oh, yeah and

2009-03-03T21:15:00.000-08:00

I changed my layout again. Something happened with the formatting when I saved it, though, so I'm not sure I like the quality of the web image. Harumph.

I'm thinking of actually submitting some of the random ones I've done to some sites, though. I'm pretty proud of the useless crap I'm teaching myself. Maybe I can make it less useless.

Conversations with my Creator: part 2

2009-03-03T20:45:00.001-08:00

I've been analyzing my humanity lately and the penchant I have for forcing my independence. I think I've pinpointed where I keep going wrong. For the past, oh, nine months or so, almost every conversation I've had with God has pretty much read from this script, word for word:

ME: Hey, You. I need some advice.

GOD: OK, hit Me.

ME: (insert four hours of hacking sobs and snot sucking)

GOD: Hm. Alright. Here's what you need to do. Give it to Me and let Me handle it. DO NOT, under any circumstances try to step in and "fix things". Just... let Me do My job, OK?

ME: Mmmhmm, mmmhmm, I see where You're coming from. That totally makes sense.

GOD: Good.

ME: OK, I'mma go try to fix things.

GOD: *facepalm* ...alright. I'll see you in a few hours when you've screwed it up. AGAIN.

ME: Awesome. BRB, ruining my day!

I could be wrong but I'm pretty sure God's been trying to tell me something.

... I just can't figure out what.

BEST. DAY. EVER.

2009-03-03T16:37:00.000-08:00

I know I tend to complain about my job but in all honesty, it does have it perks.

Today I got $35 in tips.

And two ice-cream cakes from Cold Stone.

Don't be jealous. I'm thinking of you while I nom.

Trust, love, faith and other things I don't understand

2009-02-28T13:57:00.000-08:00

Ever since confronting my faith I've been digging deeper into my spiritual life and how I've been letting it (or not letting it) saturate my life.

At this point, the only thing that brings any sense of peace to my life is the possibility of trusting Him in ways I never have before. I feel as if I have no idea what life is going to bring and the mistakes I've made trying to steer my own course cut me. I wonder how many wonderful things have been lost to me forever because of my own ineptitude and delusions of power. This past summer I lost the one thing that meant the most to me in part because I gave in to fear. God has used that to move me closer to Him and the "what if"'s are endless and essentially pointless, so I refuse to dwell on them any longer. I'm learning to let Him in not because I believe I'll gain something in the end since, after all, "trust at the mercy of what it receives is bogus trust". No, I'm submitting because I've screwed up and hurt myself more often than I had realized by trying to do things my way. And I'm so tired of hurting.

I talk at God a lot, but it's a very one-sided conversation. Often I would listen to what He had to say then shrug and say "Good idea. Thanks for the input. But I'm gonna go ahead and do it THIS way." More recently I've been actively trying to change this tendency toward making God my sounding-board and not my guide, but it's not easy. Acknowledging my desire to be 100% self-sufficient isn't the end and it wasn't even the difficult part, I found. No, the hard stuff is putting it into practice when every natural inclination I have is to turn my back and walk alone. It's a learned response - not even something I have to think about. I pray, ask for forgiveness and listen to what He has to say... then an hour later I begin to tune Him out again. I'm even gun-shy of saying or thinking "Hey, I think I'm getting the hang of it!" because as soon as I feel as if my grasp on the concept is firm, I say "I got it, God. I'll take it from here." and the whole cycle repeats itself.

What's even more baffling to me is the notion that God doesn't really care. He isn't concerned with how far along I'm moving or even if I'm moving at all. The only thing that matters to Him is my acceptance of the fact that I can't do it on my own and the only way to succeed - even a little bit - is by letting Him lead. There is nothing expected other than to live by this: "I am love. Period."

"Justice says: 'I owe you nothing, for you have broken the contract.' But where justice ends, love begins, and reveals that God is not interested merely in the dividends of the covenant. He is looking into the eyes of Israel from His depths to hers. He sees through the smokescreen of deeds good and bad to Israel herself. She glances up uneasily, 'Who? Me?'"*

My motives are not pure. A part of me acts out of selfishness and because my hands are grasping greedily at the blessings God has promised. And yet, I see these parts of my heart and I'm ashamed... and God says "I am with you, I am for you, I am in you. I expect more failure from you than you expect from yourself."*

Nothing else is taken into account but my acceptance, not even my unstoppable humanity.

(Stolen from "The Ragamuffin Gospel" by Brennan Manning. If you haven't read it, you are missing out on a lot.)

$10K?!... really?

2009-02-25T17:12:00.000-08:00

So we have a Big Name Hockey Star Fantasy Camp staying at The Resort for the next week. After speaking with the sales manager a few minutes ago I found out that each of these 80+ gentlemen paid ten thousand dollars to simply skate around with said Big Name Hockey Star and tool around with the local NHL team.

Watching these guys is kind of like watching a little kid at Disneyland watching for Mickey to show up. Half of them have a wife with them and for the moment they look more like their mothers. Lots of arm tugging and jumping anxiously from foot to foot.

Very cute.

EEEEEEEEEEE!

2009-02-23T20:00:00.001-08:00

HOW WILL I LAST UNTIL JULY?!

spatial-sequence synaesthesia

2009-02-22T21:06:00.000-08:00

Synaestesia is a neurologically based phenomenon in which stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in a second sensory or cognitive pathway... In spatial-sequence, or number form synesthesia, numbers, months of the year, and/or days of the week elicit precise locations in space (for example, 1980 may be "farther away" than 1990), or may have a (three-dimensional) view of a year as a map (clockwise or counterclockwise).

I had no idea this was a documented condition but it's something I've done for as long as I can remember. Both the days of the week and the months of the year are arranged on a map in my brain and that's how I think of them. The weekdays are simpler - they're just in a line; the months, however, are in a complicated upside-down, counterclockwise oblong pattern. January starts at the bottom on the right and then progresses upwards and then curves to the left, ending with December tailgating the following January.

It could get frustating because someone would mention making plans in March and I would immediately think it was far away - even in the middle of February.

A few other descriptions have a ring of truth to them in my brain as well and I'm totally blown away that this happens to other people - enough so that they named and study it.

I'm even more of a freak that originally thought.

The Lover

2009-02-20T18:18:00.001-08:00

There is a Love.

Do we believe in it? Do we seek it? Would we even recognize it if it found us, stumbled upon us half-drunk from our own lust and barely able to see through the bitterness?

What would it take for us to notice? A letter with our name, hand-written, inviting us to taste what it has to offer and test it against all the other Loves that have purported to be true?

Could we understand it? As a people so easily swayed by sexuality and hunger, ego and pride, how would we comprehend something that claims none of these characteristics?

Would we take it? After so many betrayals in our past and so much valid mistrust, would we be able to put aside our fear of one more knife wound in order to grab hold?

What you see is that I am bone and tissue and blood, moving altogether in fluid movements due to an incredibly complex mind. I am wildly durable, able to heal myself without even trying and alive because of intricacies so complicated they can't be seen with the naked eye.

But in reality I am so much simpler than that. I'm a heart that was given a body and that's all. My quirks, my likes, my opinions, I owe them all to the damage that this heart has endured ever since it was encased in this body. I am who I am because of what has happened to my heart and I owe any accomplishments I've made, and will make, to those same occurances.

My heart has seen so many failures and it's done so much wrong. It wants so much flesh and that hunger only grows. It's beaten and bruised those it loved and found that forgiveness was a fairytale not meant for the likes of it. And almost as if it was getting its just rewards, it's been stepped on too many times to count, as well. My heart knows nothing of True Love. My heart, as I said, has a body and that body has been bludgeoned.

...but it was each of those selfish, drunken nights that my heart found The Lover. Each time it found itself alone after being kicked around or after kicking someone else around, The Lover wasn't ever far. No matter whose bed I crawled out of, what bottle I drained or what back I ran my knife down. There is no shame I have felt so far that The Lover has turned away from; no secret horrible enough to disgust.

There is a Love.

Sometimes I don't believe it and I know that, often, it scares me enough that I run from rather than seek it.

I have evidence of my invitation everywhere - it's in the sky, the mountains, the grass, even in the image I see in the mirror - but I so rarely accept it.

I will never understand it. I've tried. To Love me like I am? Unfathomable. I can't even manage it.

But yeah, I'll accept it. I think The Lover a fool sometimes for offering it without any strings but, then again, I think I'd be a damn fool myself if I looked a gift horse in the mouth.

I just hope I do The Lover justice. I hope my heart somehow finds a way to give what it's been given.

Because I want everyone to know that there is a Love.

Addiction: I has it

2009-02-19T22:11:00.001-08:00

I know I just changed my layout but I already made another one that isn't quite as obnoxiously narcissistic.

...but I'm gonna force myself not to change it.

...YET.

Oh, you of so little faith

2009-02-17T07:02:00.000-08:00

"Suddenly, a fierce storm struck the lake with waves breaking into the boat. But Jesus was sleeping. The disciples went and woke him up, shouting 'Lord, save us! We're going to drown!'

Jesus responded, 'Why are you afraid? You have so little faith!' Then he got up and rebuked the wind and waves, and suddenly there was a great calm." (Matt. 8:24-26)

"When people work, their wages are not a gift, but something they have earned. But people are counted as righteous, not because of their work, but because of their faith in God who forgives sinners." (Rom. 4:4-5)

I had coffee with a leader in student ministries on Valentines this past weekend. I needed it for a great many reasons and I'm so thankful God has blessed my life with a friend like her. She has the kind of Christ-like honesty that I aim for in my own life, where love is so abundant and in such ample quantities that it's nearly impossible to miss in almost everything she does.

Through this conversation and her gentle (but persistent) prodding, I reluctantly admitted to the lack of "pure" faith in my life. My trust is an odd duck. With friends it's unfailing even after it's been broken; with men, it's nonexistent when it should be obvious. With God, though, it appears to be conditional and I expect Him to be just as fickle as I tend to be.

I've been expecting too much of myself and, on the flip side, not expecting enough from God. There's been the misguided notion that He'll only bless me I've gotten my heart straightened out and prove it by "doing the right thing". His favor isn't dependent upon what I do but upon what I believe. And lately, I haven't been believing in anything other than myself.

The message at Central this weekend was about the sin of "prayerlessness" and how believers stumble by not expecting great things from a great God. In Acts, when Peter is imprisoned, the church prays late into the night for his safe return but when he shows up on their doorstep unscathed, they're skeptical. All of my prayers are said from a sense of obligation and not from expectation. How many times have I asked for things and then questioned them when they've arrived? How many times have I asked for things without even considering the possibility that God would give them to me?

In my entire time as a believer, I've been woefully lacking in belief.

I let God stay at arm's length because it's "safe" and because letting Him come closer means accepting a lot of things I'm not comfortable with; namely, giving Him the wheel and trusting that even when I muck it all up I still have His favor. Things aren't difficult because I keep falling down - that's just another symptom of a bigger illness. I keep falling down because I don't trust God to do it "right," and so I make an attempt with my own human hands. And then I'm disappointed because I mistakenly believe God can't bless me until I get it.

Stop making it harder than it really is, michelle!

faith + ~~actions + god complex~~ + nothing = blessings
(I've never been good with math)

I want to expect incredible things from an even more incredible God.

Well played, Night

2009-02-16T02:01:00.000-08:00

My expectations were not high enough.

"Pulse" was the most abismal movie experience I've had in years. I didn't think it possible for a horror movie to be worse than that atrocious piece of recycled crap. "Mirrors" was a valiant attempt and definitely a worthy challenger but all have been overshadowed by the laughably ludicrous and condescendingly "moral" pile of garbage that regurgitated into theaters as "The Happening".

The acting, the writing, the story were all side-splittingly hilarious but none compares to the Al Gore tribute that they slap us in the face with in the last five minutes.

"NOBODY MOVE. I THINK THE PLANET KNOWS WE'RE HERE AND LEAVING OUR QUARTER POUNDER WRAPPERS AND RC CANS EVERYWHERE. GUISE, STOP USING 'AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH' AS A COASTER AND LISTEN TO WHAT AL GORE HAS TO SAY. ALSO, FUCK SHIT DAMN (LULZ 'R' RATING FTW)!"

Thanks, M for the most unintentionally entertaining night of media since the night I accidentally took two doses of Nyquil and watched "dramatic prairie dog" on a 90-minute loop.

The most adorable thing I've seen in awhile

2009-02-12T14:38:00.001-08:00

Kingsford Goes to the Beach - More amazing video clips are a click away

For some reason, this pig reminds me of our dog, Lil Bit. It might be the annoyingly codependency or perhaps the squat little body on skinny legs - I dunno. Familiarity aside, this video is too stinkin' cute for words.

10 Things: My parents don't know everything

2009-02-10T14:00:00.000-08:00

10 Things I Wish I'd Known When I Was A Teenager

My parents don't know everything
(but they usually know more than me)

“Listen, my child, to what your father teaches you. Don’t neglect your mother’s teaching. What you learn from them will crown you with grace and clothe you with honor.” (Proverbs 1:8)

“If the past cannot teach the present and the father cannot teach the son, then history need not to have bothered to go on, and the world has wasted a great deal of time.” (Russell Hoban)

I’m looking forward to the day when flying cars are the norm, teachers have been replaced by holograms and I am the ripe old age of sixty-three. The younger generations will gather at my feet and listen with rapt attention to the sage wisdom that I’ve sown from years of cultivating vast amounts of knowledge in regards to living, loving and avoiding jury duty. I will be revered for my quiet countenance and humble acumen in all things important that I’ve gleaned from ages of watching this humble earth spin ‘round the sun.

At that point in time I’m relatively certain my mother will still insist that I’m folding my underwear wrong. And I will still continue to do it my own way just to spite her.

Whether it’s through pink hair (which I’ve done), an older boyfriend (also done) or blowing off curfew (done to death) there’s usually a spit of rebellion in everyone under the age of twenty-one. Whether or not you recognize it for what it is (I know I didn’t), you’re probably going to feel the urge to flip the middle finger to conformity in some way/shape/form. I found early on that one of the easiest and most effective ways to accomplish this is through domestic disobedience.

Parents: we’ve all got ‘em (though the form may differ depending on the situation) and perhaps with little exception most of them have rules to abide by, making this particular avenue of rebellion an accessible one. It’s mutiny from the comfort of your own home where you don’t even have to leave your room to start an uprising. My personal revolution came in the form of impeccably timed smart-ass commentary aimed at anyone foolish enough to open their pie-hole in my presence. This, as I’m sure you can imagine, made normal conversations with me difficult enough but it made arguments the height of aggravation.

Have you ever seen the eye-roll that accompanies the sarcastic verbal punctuation “Yeah, right”? Or the forced frown of blatant disbelief that’s paired with a single raised eyebrow? Was it all you could do not to poke them in their patronizing little eye socket when they gave you that annoying snort of doubt? Well, then you understand exactly what my parents dealt with for nine years while I was under their roof. I’m sure on some occasions the wit was hysterical but more often than not I was pretty damned obnoxious. I made disagreement a hobby and found far too much fulfillment in frustrating the good intentions of any unfortunate soul that had authority over me.

I blossomed into adulthood at some point during that decade and after two years of community college I decided to declare a major of Biblical Studies and was met with a wall of skeptical ambivalence, mostly from my father. And though he did what he could to talk me down from it (including setting up a chat with the apologetics professor at a local Christian college), he still backed me up when it came time to sign that first tuition check. I was smug throughout the first semester and stayed that way all through the entire two years I stubbornly stuck it out. One night, in the midst of a typical debate (which I’m sure included a fair amount of attitude from me and more than a fair amount of teeth-clenching from him) he announced, without an ounce of condescension, “I think you’re going to be a writer.” And while I don’t remember exactly what I said in response, I think it’s a safe bet that the words “yeah” and “right” were present, as was the infamous eye-roll.

There’s a special kind of irony in using the above anecdote as a part of my first serious attempt at writing. At one point not long ago I wanted to become “the female C.S. Lewis” (and yes, those were my exact words) and would have busted heads with anyone that suggested otherwise. The more that people questioned my plans, the harder I fought to drown out what I perceived as doubt. When the decision to focus on English (rather than Animation or Theater or Biblical Studies or Underwater Basket-weaving) was made, the memory of that conversation haunted me. When I decided to write an actual book – one that I hoped people would read – that conversation mocked me. But now that I sit here, typing away, that conversation humbles me.

At this moment, I’m twenty-six years and five months old; my father is sixty-three years, ten months. Using what little math skills I possess, it would appear my father will always have thirty-six years of living under his belt that I do not. Albert Einstein said that “The only source of knowledge is experience” and Lord Byron adds to that with “Oh, who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried?” In other words, it’s impossible to really understand something until you’ve been through it. In those surplus thirty-six years my father has had the opportunity to see a lot more, do a lot more and fuck up a lot more. As a consequence, he understands a lot more and while it might not always fall on the most enthusiastic ear, he’s usually more than willing to share that knowledge.

“Experience: that most brutal of teachers. But you learn, my God do you learn.” (C.S. Lewis)

It’s a very unfortunate truth that there really is no substitute for first-hand experience. You could have read every book on depth perception, parallel parking and three-point turns and I still wouldn’t ride shot-gun if you’ve yet to be behind the wheel of a car. My sister and I learned to drive in my father’s Camero and while it might have grated my nerves sometimes to have him sit beside me (“You pressed the break; you shouldn’t accelerate after that.” “Comfortable, not complacent.” “Yellow does NOT mean speed up!”), there’s a reason why you need to have a licensed driver present if you’ve only got a Learner’s Permit – because they know what they're doing (...mostly). They’ve learned that, no, a “rolling stop” doesn’t count at a stop sign and driving through knee-deep water could cost you more than the price of a car wash (Arizona has the “Stupid Motorist Law,” which fines the offending driver for the cost of public emergency services, such as paramedics, if their rescue necessitates them).

Sadly, we don’t get a Learner’s Permit for living and on most occasions we’re learning as we go. You’re not as likely to hit a biker or kill a bird (done and done [three times!]) in your body's driver seat but you can do a considerable amount of damage to yourself in other messy, drawn-out and humiliating ways.

When I turned twenty-two I had my second crisis of faith. I like to think that I’m a lot more intelligent four years later but as Rita Mae Brown says, “Good judgment comes from experience, and often experience comes from bad judgment,” and that year was proof of concept. I’m an incurable romantic but gun-shy when it comes to trusting someone else with physical intimacy. However barely two months free of my first serious, long-term relationship I set my sights on Dave, a casual friend known for his wandering eye and charming personality. Looking back, I wonder what kind of pheromones I was excreting that announced I was ignorant and open for business because as soon as I made the decision to crush, he came a’runnin’. From the beginning a conscious decision was made to explore my sexuality (and his) without the constraints of my faith. I was going to figure out sex, love and my lady parts on my own terms, Bible be damned!

Dave was, to his credit, totally upfront about what he wanted and expected (sex, in one form or another) and what he didn’t (emotional entanglements or a relationship). Whether I deluded myself into thinking I could handle casual intimacy with no strings attached or held the all-too-common belief that I could change him I don’t know (although it was probably a mixture of both). We hooked up regularly for a couple months and I tried to convince myself that I was OK with having my body serviced (for lack of a better term) while neglecting my heart. When I was with him it was easy to believe he cared about me but as soon as that apartment door shut at my back in the wee hours of the morning and I’d take that lonely walk back to my car, I knew something was wrong. It wasn’t pain and it wasn’t disappointment – it was emptiness. It was nothing. It felt so good in the moment but afterward I wasn’t filled with affection or warmth or love or even respect; I wasn’t filled with anything. For months I ignored the bad taste it left in my heart and continued the “relationship”, never stopping to question why the only time it felt "right" was when we were together.

Then one night, it happened: I sat - topless - on the toilet in Dave's darkened bathroom with only the glow of one flickering candle bouncing off the tile walls and God spoke to me. I was confused and frustrated by an inability to stir an emotional response or (other than the dull ache of physical pleasure) really feel anything at all and I had escaped. To do what, I hadn't a clue. I just knew I had to think.

“See? This is why I want you to wait.”

“… Wait, what?”

“THIS. This hollowness, this uncertainty, this insecurity – I don’t want you to go through it. I ask you to wait because it’s supposed to be better than this and it shouldn’t cause you to question yourself.”

“…Oh.”

“There’s a method to My seemingly random madness. I didn’t just pull an arbitrary list of rules out of the air and I wouldn’t ask these things of you without good reason.”

“And that would be…?”

“I ask them because I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

I wish I could say that I walked out of that bathroom, put my shirt back on and waved goodbye to Dave for good but it took some time before my heart allowed it to sink in completely. Wisdom gained from painful experiences is costly. I put a lot of time, emotion and energy into Dave only to get very little in return. To make matters worse I wound up hurting some wonderful people and pushing others away. It’s an embarrassing moment when you realize the full impact your actions and choices have on your life and the those around you.

My mother is an incredibly strong woman but I’ve always seen her as annoyingly straight-laced, mild and bookish. For years she and her old friends would giggle about the wild nights they’d spent in New York and Los Angeles in their twenties but I never believed it was much more than getting buzzed from wine coolers out on the balcony. “What? Did you use expired coupons? Keep library books past their due date?” I’d ask sarcastically to which my mother would invariably reply, “You’ll just have to wait for the book!”

Years later, at a table by the window in Einstein’s Bagels, I got to hear the first chapter right from the source. While living on her own in California, my mother got seriously involved with a man who subsequently moved in and got her pregnant. Terrified of the reaction she’d get from her strict Catholic parents, she eventually miscarried and, out of panic and shame, kept the matter a secret. All throughout adolescence our mother had been unreasonably paranoid regarding my sister’s and my sexual escapades (of which there were none, even in the tamest sense of the word). All the years that she and my father spent scaring abstinence into us suddenly made a lot more sense.

“Why didn’t you ever tell us this?”

“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t think it would make a difference.”

It’s moot at this point, really, because what’s done is done. It’s hard to know whether or not I would have taken her words to heart when I was twenty-two, nineteen, sixteen. Douglas Adams says, “Human beings, who are almost unique in having the ability to learn from the experience of others, are also remarkable for their apparent disinclination to do so” and it sounds like he’s onto you, humanity. I believe one of the prime reasons God allows certain people to go through a particular hell is because He wants them to show others how to avoid it; or, baring that, how to deal with it once they’ve gotten there. But for all the red flags and loud regrets echoing from previous generations, we as humans remain woefully unobservant.

The pain my mother suffered and the residual ripples from all that could have been haunt her when she talks about it now. I have no doubt that God used the circumstances to strengthen and teach her but just like in school, there’s a good reason to pay attention to the history that’s gone on before – so you don't do the same stupid things. Rather than take up pottery or tai chi, Hitler invaded Poland to compensate for his daddy issues and as a result, the Toothbrush mustache can never again be worn in polite society; you never know how far-reaching the consequences will be. Sometimes the only way to get a good scope of all that could happen is to take a look at what did happen. Most foresight comes from a clear and humble hindsight and the only way to get that is to put distance between that time and the present. The morning after will not bring the most educated of understandings but put six months between the events and yourself and you’ll be amazed at how much easier the answers come. Put ten years between the two and you won’t even recognize the foolish child that made those decisions in the first place. The punch-in-the-gut that my mother received from losing a child is the kind of lesson I would rather not learn first-hand though (thanksverymuchanyway). “Learn all you can from the mistakes of others” Alfred Sheinwold says, because “You won’t have time to make them all yourself.”

I was not especially intuitive while I was a teenager and, looking back, I wonder how much unreasonable pain I could have saved myself had someone clued me in to the fact that boys can and will exaggerate their feelings just to get that friggin' bra unhooked; or that you do get what you pay for in most cases (no black-market livers); or how important health insurance is in case you get a freak gallstone attack at 3am. Then again, maybe someone did try to give me a heads-up on just how many surprises life has in queue and I simply didn’t listen.

Three years ago, after fumbling through my final semester of Bible College, I sheepishly took the long hallway from the computer room to my parent’s bedroom where my father was watching Law & Order. I didn’t realize it at that moment but he had been patiently waiting for me to come to terms with something known to him for years. Slightly humiliated, I admitted to him that, no, I wasn’t meant to be a theologian and God intended me to write. “I’m going to study Linguistics,” I announced after a deep breath and then awaited the cocky smirk I believed must have been on hold for close to five years.

“I knew it. You’re going to be a writer.” He said without even a hint of condescension and the biggest grin I ever could have imagined on his face. “When do you start?”

He could have yelled “I TOLD YOU SO”; he could have laughed in my face; he could have held it over my head for years. But he didn’t. I deserved a good ribbing for wasting so much time, energy and money on mistake after mistake but even today he can’t keep the smile from his face when he talks about this passion that I’m finally pursuing.

Are my mother and father always right? Hell no (sorry Ma, I know you don’t like hearing that). They’re human and prove it in a vast array of unique and unexpected ways. But they’d been screwing up for decades before a scream and a slap brought me into this world and I don’t want those failures to go to waste. They survived two wars, Watergate, and polyester pants (my father still rocks his) for God’s sake. Proverbs says that “Intelligent people are always open to new ideas. In fact, they look for them” (18:15), which would lead one to believe that most of said intelligence is gleaned from others.

“My son, obey your father’s commands, and don’t neglect your mother’s teaching. Keep their words always in your heart. Tie them around your neck. Wherever you walk, their counsel can lead you. When you sleep, they will protect you. When you wake up in the morning, they will advise you.”

At some point, life started requiring that I be strong enough to make my own decisions. Even though I’m past the point of adulthood (so sayeth the law) my mother and father still have something to say about each and every turn I take. I don’t follow their advice nearly as often as they would prefer (or perhaps should), in part because they aren’t perfect and I figure I’m pretty damn smart on my own. But at the rickety old age of twenty-six, I’ve learned to humble myself and admit that in most cases they’re still smarter*.

*comment void in regards to computers, current fashion and, in the case of my mother, canine reproduction.

OMG OMG OMG. THIS DESERVES ABBREVIATIONS.

2009-02-09T17:44:00.000-08:00

GUISE? SRSLY.

SRSLY, GUISE.

I JUST FINISHED PART/CHAPTER/SECTION ONE. I AM AT WORK AND UNABLE TO CELEBRATE IN THE UNREASONABLY LOUD MANNER THAT THIS OCCASION WARRANTS.

SOMEONE OUT THERE NEEDS TO SCREAM FOR ME.

BEES! EVERYWHERE BEES!

2009-02-08T02:22:00.000-08:00

Back in January I got up at the unGodly hour of 4am so that I could shoot with a really incredible young photog named Johnny Alchemy (not his real name). He's starting a project that focuses on stereotypical girl obsessions - make-up, clothes and the one I shot, shoes. After we talked for a couple weeks prior he suggested we do a half-and-half, where we spend the first chunk of time shooting his idea and the second chunk shooting mine. I was really impressed of his way of making colors "pop" so I suggested we do something "punk/rock/grunge" where there would be a lot of bold colors to play with.

For a straight male, he had a good eye for fashion. He picked out the wardrobe all on his own.

"Hey bee, this is my photoshoot. You are a bee, you don't even wear shoes.

Half of the jewelry is Johnny's. That is, all of the chains, safety pins, locks and spikes.

Looks like I tried to make it over the post and wound up injuring my lady parts.

A week after, Amy and I finally had the opportunity to check out Magma Railroad, an abandoned RR in Pinal County, AZ. It took awhile to find (because, duh, it's abandoned and unused) but in a quaint twist of fate, the lighting turned out to be fantastic even if we couldn't stay for very long.

Modeling is hard work! We need naps in order to maintain an appropriate "sexiness-to-vanity" ratio.

Amy slipped roofies into my diet coke.

Momma Amy: She's not union, so she's cheap.

They certainly know who their audience is

2009-02-02T21:42:00.000-08:00

I wonder if the wizards behind the new shows at Discovery channel ~~somehow know about my craving to lick Mack's head every time I watch future weapons~~ read my blog. Someone over there seems to have picked up the hormonal surges produced when I watch or perhaps I'm excreting a very powerful pheremone and they realize the easiest way to get me to watch is to put an attractive, well-built bald white man in chains and a harness.

Richard Machowicz of "Future Weapons"

Jeff Lieberman of "Time Warp"

Jonathan Goodwin of "One Way Out"

Discovery Channel has, apparently, perfected cloning.

I am not complaining.

You can add these men to the list of "Discovery Channel Hosts I want to ~~make publically uncomfortable with my ridiculous displays of affection~~ ~~grope~~ ~~tie up in my basement~~ make-out with" right after Mike Rowe and Tory Bellecci.

Well played, Discovery Channel. Well played.

I promise not to slip you roofies

2009-02-02T17:08:00.000-08:00

I need a date to the grand opening party of the Blue Martini Lounge in Phoenix on either Wednesday or Thursday of this week.

I do not want to go alone.

Cocktail attire is recommended. This means lots of leg and/or cleavage in addition to my general sexiness.

Come schmooze with me! If we're lucky, some sugar daddy will take us BOTH home!

Occasionally 4chan has some good stuff

2009-02-02T01:29:00.000-08:00

Somewhere in West Philadelphia you will find an old basketball court with a single ball lying in the center. Should you pick it up and begin to shoot hoops, a small band of hooligans will approach and challenge you to a fight which you must accept.

After the fight you must go home and relay the events to your mother. She will inform you that there are an aunt and uncle living in one of the districts of Los Angeles, and out of fear, she will send you to live there for an indefinite period of time.

With your bags packed, go to the street corner and signal a cab via whistle. The cab that will pull up will bear the word FRESH on the license plate, and upon closer inspection you will find fuzzy novelty dice hanging in the mirror. Although you will suddenly realize that cabs like these are extremely hard to find, you will not bear any thought to it. You will then point the chauffuer in the general vicinity of Bel Air, California. You will stop in front of a mansion somewhere between 7 and 8o’clock. Retrieve your baggage and bid the odeous driver adieu. Take in your new physical domain, walk up to the door and then knock on the door three times.

If you follow these instructions, your life will get flip-turned upside-down.

Oh, that's sill- INTERCHANGABLE TIES?! Well, why didn't you say so?!

2009-01-29T00:22:00.000-08:00

Obama Action Figure from Japan

Stop trying to bogart our new black man, Japan! You already have Kurosawa, Miike and Domo-kun! Let us have Obama.

(My favorite part is the fact that he can hold an American flag OR a light saber... WHY NOT BOTH?)

MOAR HORROR: Let The Right One In

2009-01-23T23:35:00.000-08:00

Hey, rest of the world - could you stop being so successful with your horror films? Because Hollywood is beginning to look like an incredible piece of steamy crap.

I just finished up the original novel "Let The Right One In" and am just beginning the movie adaptation from Sweden. The book has already ranked right up there with "Battle Royale" as my favorite fiction. The characters are rich and complex and the way the diverse groups are woven together is fantastic. I barrelled through the last 300 or so pages today in between laundry, physics and a migraine. Absolutely worth it.

I'm probably the most offensive person I know

2009-01-23T14:24:00.000-08:00

There isn't much that makes me uncomfortable.

In terms of people, I usually tell anyone who gets to know my well enough that the only way to offend me is to try to do it - on purpose. You could (theoretically) grab my boob and as long as I know you don't mean any harm I won't put my foot through your crotch. I'll tell you - nicely - that I don't like it and then if you do again I'll punch you in the throat. But the first time is a freebie. (I invite you to test this - not because I want my boobs grabbed but because one day I'd really like to punch someone in the throat.)

Adam Savage (of Mythbusters fame) has often talked about "mythbuster moments" where he stops (generally after they've strapped large quantities of explosives to a baliistics gel cow but before it's been ignited) and thinks "...we're in an abandoned quarry about to blow up a ballistics gel cow..." The abnormality that blowing up a ballistics gel cow is - to them - not abnormal suddenly becomes apparent and undeniable. For a split second, Adam Savage sees what the rest of the Discovery Channel whores like myself see during every episode: "This is weird."

This is exactly how I feel doing a nude shoot, especially when I'm carrying on a conversation with the photographer as if we'd run into each other in the lawn care aisle of Walmart. Inevitably I step outside myself and think "...I'm sitting here, totally naked, in front of a camera and I just asked about whether his dog's neutering went alright" followed by, "...This is weird." For a shoot that I did a month ago, I brought along another photog friend who I'd worked with as my escort and the artist brought his fiance. My friend and his fiance chatted obliviously twenty-five feet away while he asked me to arch my back more.

The weirdest part about it is that it's not weird. I'm very careful about who I work with and won't even consider it if the comfort level isn't 110% going into it. But I'm not the norm and most people find nudity intensely discomfitting, whether it's their own or someone else's. So when I find myself in a situation where it's not the subject that's danced around and, in fact, is hardly even noticeable, I have to take a step back and remember that it's a very different environment in front of the camera than it is in "real life". Not everyone sees it as I do; not everyone should.

Excuse me, your purse is DELICIOUS

2009-01-19T13:13:00.000-08:00

My new purse is the exact color of Tostito's Queso dip and just as nutritious.

I'm the naked one in the room

2009-01-19T13:05:00.000-08:00

I tend to get photoshoots in clusters rather than spaced out and after two weeks of not being in front of a camera, I had two extremely long sessions and one two-hour shoot with Scott, who I have standing photo date with every other Sunday evening.

The owners of Tye Studios were in town from Florida and so I spent eight and a half hours on Thursday with Andre and Donna, along with a colleague of their's, Ray, shooting at Arizona Falls and Goldfield Ghost Town. For being a concierge by day, I'm really ashamed that I'd never been to - or even heard of - either location. AZ Falls is a natural waterfall-cum-hydroelectric plant that the city of Phoenix has turned into a very unique "park" designed by Lajos Heder and Mags Harries. Goldfield contains the remnants of an old mining town that sits smack-dab between the Goldfield and Superstition mountains with some of the original (and some not-so-original) landmarks from the 1890's.

Saturday I got up at the ass-crack of before-dawn and met Johnny from Alchemy Photos at the Mesa Arts Center for a project he's working on currently. He agreed to a half-and-half shoot where we spent the first chunk shooting his idea (based around shoe obsession) and the last chunk shooting some things I've been wanting (bright colors with a punk theme) and we shot until the last possible moment at 10:30a.

My last shoot with Scott didn't produce a whole lot of quality work, partly due to the fact that he forgot the premise behind the setting he'd suggested resulting in some less-than stellar shots. We also have a tendency to improvise more and structure less, meaning we both go into the meetings without concrete plans so that we can just go with the general feeling. The previous three shoots went great working under that premise; the fourth, not so much. So this time we sketched out some basic boundaries this past week and that seemed to help greatly. Re-shot the one we muddled last time, did some contrast work on a tile floor and then some experimental slow-shutter pieces outside in the dark. All required a bit more set-up than normal so we spent less time actually shooting and I did my first outdoors winter shoot naked. I'm sure the world of art will be forever changed by my erect nipples.

Ray shoots while I make sweet, sweet love to the chain link.

Sexy picture or sexiest picture?

Beautiful shot of the Superstition and/or Goldfield Mountains.

"Could you move? You're blocking the view."

Thank you

2009-01-19T08:05:00.000-08:00

"I know that love is ultimately the only answer to mankind's problems. And I'm going to talk about it everywhere I go. I know it isn't popular to talk about it in some circles today. I'm not talking about emotional bosh when I talk about love, I'm talking about a strong, demanding love."
(Martin Luther King, Jr.)

There aren't words enough to describe how much this quote means to me.

Giving God control

2009-01-17T10:04:00.000-08:00

I'm having this issue lately with giving God the reins of life. There is this uncontrollable urge I have to hold on even after I've said "Alright, I give, I give!". It's like some genetic disposition steering me back into this misguided notion that I have - or ever had - "The Power".

What baffles me even more is that I generally know what needs to happen; or at least have a pretty good idea of what lesson God's trying to teach me. Yet I'll still keep trying to find a loophole or some shortcut that'll get me what I want except three times faster. What I fail to remember is that the destination can only be arrived at after the journey - trying to circumvent God's path is only going to draw it out longer because my meddling complicates the process.

I'm like a stubborn child thinking I can out-smart God. If I can just convince myself that I know what I'm doing, He must be fooled too, right?

Then it'll (inevitably) blow up in my face and I'll cry and throw a tantrum because I'll realize that I've just made it even harder for myself by insisting that I can "help". By "help" I mean "do this myself, thankseversomuch" and then I'm back at the beginning, frustrated and hurt and angry - with myself and with God.

I wonder, is it really possible as a human to totally give up the illusion of control 100% or will I always struggle to wrap my brain around the realities of living in His world and playing by His rules? I feel like I'll never get there. The same mistakes keep repeating and I continually mess my chances at the future I'm trying to grasp. I've seen it first-hand - sticking your hands in the batter never works if you don't know what the hell you're doing and can only ruin the end result. So why hasn't it sunk in? How many times do I have to stumble - screwing myself as I do - before I accept and submit to His power?

The will of God

2009-01-14T11:26:00.000-08:00

I've recently begun to think of God's will in a more abstract - and less specific - manner.

This may be faulty but from my experiences in the last year, I've started to believe that God cares less about the little decisions I make and more about the way I react and handle the consequences of said decisions. When things blow up in my face, do I flip the bitch switch and let my frustration overwhelm me? Or do I take a deep breath, assess the situation and then talk to Him? Am I quick to throw a pity party for myself rather than try to view the circumstances as an opportunity?

Unless you're choosing between "sin" and "not sin", I think God is going to be pretty even-handed if you ask Him what to do. "Should I have raunchy, unprotected sex with this dirty hobo who offered me cocaine?" isn't exactly the same as "Should I take this new job opportunity in another city or stay with the one I'm at?" and I think God is going to urge you to analyze the possibilities of each respective path.

Ultimately, this goes to the truth that you can't screw up God's plans by taking a wrong turn. Things might be crazy good in that new job once you take it and maybe the old one laid a bunch of people just after you left. It's easy to say that God lead you to making the choice you did and perhaps it's a moot point to even think about such things, but what if you hadn't? What if you stayed and wound up getting fired? Would that mean you thwarted God's great plan? Or, perhaps, God's plan allows for our human free will and while He gives us the tools and information needed, it's up to us to maturely and intelligently use it?

I made a choice last year that wound up causing me a lot of emotional turmoil and pain but, at the same time, has grown my faith and relationship with Christ. The amount of knowledge that's been crammed into the last six months alone is probably twice what I've garnered from the prior 20 years. Initially I thought I'd missed some sign from God back when I'd prayed and discussed the decision with Him because it was so damn painful. Eventually I came to realize that things had unfolded just so, that I was able to step up to where I am. But it made me wonder - had I made the opposite choice, does that mean I would have missed out on growing?

Less time needs to be spent on wondering which path to take. I need to start using the brain God gave me to make the smartest decisions I'm capable of and then trusting that even if something unforseen comes up and wrecks everything, He's not only able to fix it but He knew about it before hand.

I need to stop being lazy

2009-01-13T20:41:00.000-08:00

Srsly you guise.

You guise? Srsly.

The rest of my week:

Wednesday:
Gym 7-8:30(ish)
Work 11-7
MYTHBUSTERS 9-11
Coma: 11-?

Thursday:
Gym: 7-8:30(ish)
Lunch w/ Mae: lunch-time(ish)
Photoshoot: Afternoon(ish)
Shopping After afternoon(ish)
Coma ??-??

Friday:
Gym 7-8:30(ish)
Work 11-7
Laundry 8-I'm bored
Coma ??-??

Saturday:
Photoshoot BUTT CRACK OF DAWN-he and I are bored
Gym ??-??
Church 6:30-8
DANCE DANCE DANCE 10-someone takes me home
Coma ??-??

Sunday:
DRIVE TO TUCSON early
Photoshoot not as early-afternoon
Drive home 3-4:30
COMA 5-??
Photoshoot 11-??
COMA REDUX 2-??

I look at this blog everyday and get sad-faced at the number of "Drafts" I have started that remain unfinished. Writing is being done but, sadly, not for Pie. The book and various fictional short stories are slowly being hacked away at however and that's exciting - for me, anyway. Both my fiction and the book have been very neglected the past few months.

My not-new-years resolution is to post at least three times a week - and not just hilarrible videos, either. It was going well for awhile and I've slacked off. I'm sorry. Life has taken over my life.

I can't make it; the Terror Alert has reached "Orange"

2009-01-09T13:20:00.000-08:00

When canceling reservations on the Resort's new OS, it's required that you enter a reason. And the brilliant creators of Opera have given us some handy "preloaded" choices that, I assume, they thought were common. Most make sense - "family emergency" or "weather" are ~~bold-faced lies~~ ~~flimsy excuses~~ things we hear on a daily basis.

...but "terrorism"? Seriously?

Am I an awful person for hoping that I get to take that cancellation when it inevitable comes in (because I know it will)?

Naked

2009-01-08T20:40:00.000-08:00

So, I've been doing some nude modeling lately.

There's honestly no way to ease into this kind of a blog post, so I thought I'd just lay it out on the line.

Several of you know this and have seen some of the products. Some of you, I'm sure, will be scandalized - and that's OK. This wasn't something I got into on a whim and I've prayed long and hard about it. I happened upon it accidentally during the course of my "normal" modeling pursuits and... surprisingly enjoyed it. I've got two years of life drawing under my belt as well as a huge appreciation for these bodies that God created and all they're capable of. Going into it I anticipated a resurgence of the pride that I'd lost over the summer/fall. I wanted to feel beautiful again and that definitely was one of the results.

Something I wasn't expecting, however, was the vulnerability and contentment that met me. I'm not shy OR uncomfortable in this skin but there was something about being physically naked - in front of a CAMERA - that stripped me of any resistance I might have been feeling. It literally took maybe five minutes for me to be completely at ease and then... I don't know. I was just suddenly different.

I've done five in the past month and I have at least two more planned in January and one for February. I'm still keeping up the "clothed" modeling but I am drawn more towards conceptual artwork rather than commercial prints and that's opened up a lot of opportunities to do more nude work.

This is not something I would have ever thought myself capable of but as it turns out, it's possibly the best thing I could have done. I've stifled my artistic passions for years now and this is a means of expression that I've never considered.

I only say this because it's bound to come up in future posts and I don't want it to seem as if I'm hiding it or ashamed. I'm quite proud of my role in each piece and, honestly, I'm proud of myself for just doing it. As silly as it sounds, it's meant a lot to me.

Well, let's see where this leads us, shall we?

Good video... or BEST video?

2009-01-03T17:41:00.001-08:00

Goodbye 2008

2008-12-31T08:20:00.000-08:00

This has been one kah-razy year.

In 2008, I:

Fell in love. Twice.
Got my heart broken. Twice.
Flew more between March and May than I have in the last five years.
Visited the east coast.
Moved out.
Moved back in.
Went back to school.
Successfully kept 30lbs off.
Went into crazy debt.
Got out of crazy debt (two days before the year ended).
Began modeling.
Found three new friendships that have changed my life.
~~Learned to trust God~~ STILL learning to trust God.

On this, the last day of 2008, I can honestly say I'm a better person than I was a year ago. In the final six months I've grown more spiritually than the previous twenty-five years combined and the things that I've learned from those circumstances are momentous. I'm happy.

I'm not, however, fulfilled. Yet.

God and I are still hashing some issues out and for that I'm grateful. In all honesty, as tough as these twelve months have been, my faith has never been more stubborn than it was from April until today. God orchestrated events so that I would be able to withstand great amounts of shit and emerge (well, someday) not just in tact but stronger.

Perhaps one of the best and most important factors has been the people. I met two amazing people this year that challenged, changed and built me. Then, four months ago, I fostered a deep friendship with someone I've known for three years but never truly talked to. 2008 was life-changing because of them and I'd be very different if they hadn't come along.

These next few paragraphs are for you:

1. You kicked off this whole thing during the holidays of '07 and popped up in the most unlikely of ways. I'm incredibly honored to have been one of the few that's been allowed to get close to you and even though it culminated in an explosion of emotion, it was worth all the trouble. It brought me to an understanding of what love can and can not conquer - and at the same time taught me that there is something deeper and more meaningful than romantic love. Many months, a lot of pain and some serious perspective later, I'm incredibly content with where we're at. I care about you so much and couldn't be more proud to be your friend. You always were and always will be in my prayers.

2. More than anything else I can think of, you are the unshakable proof I have that God is here and He is not silent. To think, we met through a random blog exchange on a writing forum more than three years ago and kept loose tabs on each other based solely a shared interest in Christ and writing. How many times did I cut my f-list in that time? Did we even exchange two meaningful words prior to September? I had no reason to stay connected to you and should have shaved you from my LJ years ago for all the contact we had. I don't know why I didn't but I can honestly say that I never would have made it to '09 if I had.

I am strong(er) because of you. I believe because of you. I have faith because of you. We've watched each other make huge mistakes and we cheered each other on during the rare successes. You've listened to more tears and more rants and more anger and more petty tirades than you should have. You're not afraid to tell me when I'm being a coward and you never say something just because you think I want to hear it. In less than three months you've become the only person I can even fathom coming to when I need spiritual support. Of all those who've come before, none have known me quite so well as you do - not the details of my life, but the person God's made me and the struggles I have. I will never stop praising God for you and thanking Him for placing you in my life.

3. It shouldn't be hard to understand how and why you had such an effect on me. I've never let anyone know me the way I let you. No one's even come close. I didn't know I could love someone this deeply and this broadly; I still don't understand all of what it encompasses. I've never laughed harder than I did at a Wendy's Jr HJ or Krispy Kreme ejaculation. You are, hands down, one of the funniest men I've ever come in contact with and in my book, that's worth a lot. Stubborn and painfully, annoyingly honest, you've put more hurdles in my path than even you're aware of. You challenged me to pray, to "ass-rape" fear, to give up control, and to trust - both you and God. But more than anything else, you challenged me to step up and really love. The kind of love that asks one to be selfless, humble, honest, patient and unafraid. And it requires the ability to let go. "The way to love anything is to realize that it might be lost." Everything that came before this past June was something that I could easily give up. I still don't know how to do it but I know why I have to. I would do anything for you and that includes let you go. The only regret I have is that I didn't let you know just how much you mean to me. I let my fear get the best of me for too long and when I finally stopped holding back it was too late. You deserved to know how much faith, trust and love I had (have) for you. I should have made it blatantly obvious but I didn't. I'm so sorry. I haven't handled a lot of things very well where you're concerned. I'm learning just how often I can fall and, at the same time, just how often God expects me to quit my bitching, pick myself back up and carry on.

God's used you to teach me so. damn. much. I don't think you'll ever know or understand how much your presence has affected me. I hate you for it sometimes but mostly, I'm just thankful.

And, of course, the journey my relationship with God has taken shaped me more than everything else combined. He's kicked me around, beaten me up and forced me to see the kind of person I have a tendency to be. I hide behind fear too often and it shows up as anger, conceit, superiority. It's given me the misguided belief that I can control my life and, in reality, all that's gotten me in the end is emptiness. It isn't worth it; not anymore.

"God has not been trying an experiment on my faith or love in order to find out their quality. He knew it already. It was I who didn't. In this trial He makes us occupy the dock, the witness box, and the bench all at once. He always knew that my temple was a house of cards. The only way of making me realize the fact was to knock it down."

I'm not going to live in fear this year and I'm not going to hold back. I've lost so much time because of it; I don't want to lose anymore.

Thank You, for knocking me down and breaking my heart. Again.

This time I'm going to let You rebuild it.

I'm late, but....

2008-12-26T10:40:00.000-08:00

I'm so excited! I'm so excited!

2008-12-17T06:30:00.000-08:00

Who's life wasn't changed by this episode? If you raised your hand, please dig your grave because YOU ARE DEAD TO ME.

The best part is Zach trying not to laugh while he comforts her.

Happy Meme: Days 5 - 7

2008-12-16T08:35:00.000-08:00

Day Five

Friday

Even though it was just an attempt at some rump shakin' action, I still got to see Tori for a little while until she got called into Domestic Duty.

Day Six

Saturday

Ugly Christmas Sweater party at Chris & Caroline's! As always, their party was beyond fun. Candy Apple martini's (that I didn't get to try, unfortunately), white elephant, pigs in a blanket and the inevitable retelling of Chris's game of racist Guesstures. There are certain conversation topics that only get brought up when Joel, Chris and Jeff are in the same room together, all of them socially awkward and unacceptable in polite company.

Day Seven

Sunday

Photoshoot for a local designer. I was, by far, the shortest, fattest and oldest model present but still had a really good time. Most of the time I do my own makeup and hair, but they had a darling gay Vietnamese boy named Christian on hand. Being pampered is fun.

BONUS! Day Eight

Monday

Shot with Scott for two and a half hours and my hair stayed (mostly) curled. THEN COFFEE CAKE OMG. Dinner with Amy & co., followed by the consumption of massive quantities of raw dough. This will be followed by the consumption of massive quantities of cooked dough as soon as I pick up the finished product.

On a related note

2008-12-16T08:26:00.000-08:00

... Here is a dog wearing a kimono.

(Shamelessly stolen from Cute Overload)

Happy Meme: Day Four

2008-12-12T12:41:00.000-08:00

Day Four

Thursday

Coffee cake plans! The throw-down goes down Monday evening in Chandler. It'll be Amy and I in the kitchen against a couple pounds of leavened dough. Should I survive, my reward will be one delicious loaf of buttery, nutty goodness.

Happy Meme: Day Three

2008-12-11T10:08:00.000-08:00

Day Three

Wednesday

Talked with three BAMFs last night unexpectedly; Jon, Jeremy and Drew.

It was an interesting night. What better way to spend it than conversing with a couple attractive, well-built gentlemen?

Happy Meme: Day Two

2008-12-10T17:25:00.000-08:00

Day Two

Tuesday

After the fiasco yesterday, it seems apropos (...I kinda love that word) to say that I got new pictures yesterday. And they're great. :)

Heartbreak

2008-12-09T21:33:00.000-08:00

How can something I find such passion and energy in disappoint and shame the people I love?

I'm not sure I'll ever understand Your people, God. I know we won't always see eye to eye but why is the default reaction to a differing opinion always an insult? Why am I not allowed to use my own brain when searching for Your will? And when someone doesn't come to the same conclusions I do, does that mean one of us is wrong? Or could You possibly speak to and guide us differently?

This is just another opportunity to search You and grow closer, Lord. Ultimately, that's what I gain - a deeper grasp on Your heart.

Sometimes I just wish it wasn't so gray. Black and white sure sounds good right about now.

Happy Meme!

2008-12-09T08:50:00.000-08:00

1. Post about something that made you happy today even if it's just a small thing.
2. Do this everyday for a week without fail.
3. Tag ~~eight~~ four of your friends to do the same.
-Ashley
-Sarah
-Ely
-SteveC

---

Day One

Monday

I had an extremely good workout today; John is teaching me take-downs. While I'm having trouble keeping them all straight ("Behind-the-knee takedown. GO!" "Where do I shove my shoulder on this one?" "...Well, not in the crotch." "...still effective though, yes?") there is a certain thrill in throwing a middle-aged man down, pinning him to the ground under my knee and punching the ever-loving crap outta him. After training I worked my core for an hour, saw the cute Matt Nathanson look-a-like again (whom I have named 'Nathan,' for what I hope are obvious reasons) and left feeling like me and my impressive pins could conquer the world. At home I had a hot bath and gave myself a pedicure.

---

Maybe this will inspire me to post a bit more this week. I haven't been able to put in the kind of time that a worthwhile post requires.

All I want for Christmas

2008-12-07T09:12:00.000-08:00

This year, I'd be beyond satisfied if I could just stop keeping score and simply forgive. Up to this point in my life I've never had trouble letting go of past slights and grudges. But now no matter what I try it's stubbornly sitting in the pit of my stomach, refusing to budge. This is the first time I've craved hardcore vengeance. God is telling me to release the anger and love again. So far, I've been unable... or maybe just unwilling. I don't like it. I want it gone.

I just don't know how.

Christmas cards, bbs?

2008-12-01T08:29:00.000-08:00

I'm planning on sending out Christmas cards this year so if any of you BAMF's would like one - no matter who you are - comment with your full name and address and prepare for a mind-blowing artistic experience in stationary, images and ink.

(Comments will be screened for privacy)

iSeduce

2008-11-29T17:03:00.000-08:00

That's actually... pretty accurate, ngl.

Love: What's It To You?

2008-11-28T12:29:00.001-08:00

In these latter days, when fundamentalist fever fuels political agendas, there's a lot of argument over the meaning of the word "love". You love your dog, you love creme brulee, you love walking in the rain, you love Yakima's Mandarin Hefeweizen. You love but aren't IN love, love passionately, love platonically, physically but not emotionally. I use it everyday. In fact I have it for the shoes I'm wearing right now. But using it so casually cheapens the sentiment when I say it to my parents as they help me out with car insurance again or to my sister when she loans me half her wardrobe just because I asked. So I gotta wonder - what does it really mean to me?

My "Love" is old-fashioned and out-dated, so they say. Its foundation was formed long before anyone could ever try to define it. It's dismissed as absurd and ridiculous, then mocked for outrageous claims. It's too "exclusive" they say and impossible to accurately follow. What I believe Love to be is "too simple" and yet somehow too vast to even attempt to comprehend. It's been called fluff, prejudiced, judgmental, hypocritical, malicious, improbable and stupid.

Real Love, however, can only be understood - truly grasped and absorbed - when It's consumed you; when you've give up and given in to It. When I hear the word "Love" I think of crawling on bloodied hands and knees, tears streaking down my cheeks and a heart broken from disappointment, confusion, guilt, fear and shame. I remember bones weary from carrying the weight of my world, trying to be something and failing over and over again. When I think of Love, I'm thinking about where I've been, where I am and where I still have yet to go.

Love isn't an emotion felt when the climate is perfect. I'm not interested in a feeling that's at the mercy of what I do or what someone else does for me. Love isn't dependent upon external circumstances. When I talk about Love I know It isn't waiting on me to do or say something right.

"We have come to know and have believed the love which God has for us. God is love, and the one who abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him."

Love is a cross on a hill. Love is blood and sweat mingled on a forehead. Love is 39 lashes. Love is a spear in the side. Love is an unfair trial. Love carried the crossbeam, took nails through hands and feet, was mocked, spat upon and humiliated. It's not pretty, It's not easy, It's not simple and It isn't for the queasy or faint of heart. Love hurts and requires you to step up and live it no matter what. Love asks for personal sacrifice, almost certain failure, overwhelming risk, blind faith, and incredible, superhuman strength. Love will devour every ounce of life in you and demand more. It's unrelenting, never-ending and incessant. In a booming voice, Love commands you to relinquish everything you have.

But in the end It prevails. Love rose above the cross, above disrespect, hate, ignorant fear and selfish desires. Love took hate, Roman torture, humanity's iniquities and a crucifixion and 2000 years later It still stands strong. Love did not ask your permission to die for your sins. It did it anyway.

Love, to me, is so much more than pretty words and phrases. Love is overwhelming, soul-stealing, breath-taking, freeing.

Do you have what it takes to truly understand Love? To live It out in your own life? Because whether you want to admit it or face it, Love is waiting for you. And Love doesn't care where you are, where you've been or what you're doing. It doesn't care how many drinks you've had, what substances are pumping through your veins or whose bed you crawled out of last night. Love doesn't see your complexion or your weight or how many friends you have on myspace. Love wants you 90 pounds overweight, out on a street corner, stealing money from your mom, face-down drunk, lonely, popular and suicidal. Love just wants you.

I guess the question is, do you want Love?

Boy, marriage has really softened Beyonce

2008-11-26T07:56:00.000-08:00

/internets

I feel naughty

2008-11-24T19:48:00.000-08:00

I went directly from the gym to school (well, technically, from the gym to the drive-thru at In N' Out and then to school) and generally after melting in the hottub for 15 minutes, I just throw on my party pants and a tshirt.

So here I am, sitting in the computer lab at school, ~commando.

It'd be sexier if I didn't look like I just woke up from a nap with some woodland creatures.

Bodyguard? Escort? Bueller?

2008-11-24T10:16:00.000-08:00

Uh, would someone like to be my escort Wednesday afternoon... ish? I just need someone to stand around and make sure I'm, you know, not getting raped or bludgeoned to death or raped while being bludgeoned to death.

Stef? Amy? Megs? Bueller?

I hate making "life updates"

2008-11-21T09:01:00.000-08:00

I have a livejournal for random crap that is uninteresting to the 6 billion people on this planet that aren't involved personally in my life and when I began a proper "blog" I promised I would keep it mostly for writing practice and/or information pertinent to those who don't care about the color of my underwear (today is pink and brown, by the way). However I've been unable to write/discuss much that's going on lately just because it takes so dang long for my ADD-addled brain to process and then relay coherent and comprehensible entries. I'm not sure how many people actual read this (and care) but the internet's allure is in its ability to delude every-day simpletons (such as I) into believing anyone gives two spits about what they have to say regarding politics/religion/fashion/cattle farming/rocks that look like Jesus. For an attention whore like me, that's too great an opportunity to pass up.

My friend Grace has been brain fuel the past two months or so and I ~~blame~~ credit anything even remotely readable to her. Between God and her, I think I'm all set in the "personal revelations" department for awhile. At Third Format they call it "doing life together" and it's due to her presence that I finally understand what that entails. We've had some incredible conversations that I'm scribbling out and expanding for future reference on ecumenism, "knowing" vs. "believing", forgiveness, trusting God and some more thoughts on having the shats while trying to live a Godly life.

This winter I'm going back up to Lost Canyon with Lindsay Project to ~~beat Zack in the face with a snowball~~ lead a small group and assist/direct drama. That involvement has lead to the tentative initiation of an actual student drama team... lead by me. Words are not sufficient to express my utter pants-wetting joy at the prospect so I'll just leave you with that unsettling mental image.

And lastly, I'm in the best shape of my life. Inexplicably, I have had no problem with eating better by trying to cut out a lot of my om nom nomming of ~~delicious~~ carbs and increasing my protein. I have another week before I check my stats again but I'm pretty sure they won't be full of fatty badness.

I'm sorry for boring all twelve of you to tears. You may now resume going about your daily lives.

Cleverbot is clever

2008-11-20T06:14:00.000-08:00

My conversation with Cleverbot:

He left in a huff after that. Cleverbot is kinda sensitive.

There.

2008-11-18T18:17:00.000-08:00

That took far too long.

But it's been awhile since I spent this much time in Photoshop, so I enjoyed it.

Yes, yes, I know.

2008-11-18T00:24:00.000-08:00

It took me forever to get this stupid background to work. It's 1:30am and I am in no mood to work on the header and fonts and colors right now.

Just deal.

Huff!

This just in: I'm still a nerd

2008-11-17T07:52:00.000-08:00

Newest theatrical trailer for HP & The Half-Blood Prince

I am excited for the following reasons:

1. It's Harry Potter.

2. There are no other reasons. There don't need to be.

We're hard-core

2008-11-11T10:21:00.000-08:00

(Quoted from Live Science.)

PRESCOTT, Ariz. (AP) — Authorities in Arizona say a jogger attacked by a rabid fox ran a mile with the animal's jaws clamped on her arm and then drove herself to a hospital. The Yavapai County sheriff's office said the woman told deputies she was on a trail near Prescott on Monday when the fox attacked and bit her foot.

She said she grabbed the fox by the neck when it went for her leg but it bit her arm.

The woman wanted the animal tested for rabies so she ran a mile to her car with the fox still biting her arm, then pried it off and tossed it in her trunk and drove to the Prescott hospital.

The sheriff's office says the fox later bit an animal control officer. He and the woman are both receiving rabies vaccinations.

You know, after you've stood outside barefoot in 120+ degrees on asphalt, you learn to put up with a lot.

This may or may not be true

2008-11-10T10:12:00.000-08:00

BON JOVI IS STAYING AT THE RESORT.

...everyone, apparently, except JON. He's at the one next door.

EDIT on 11 Nov 08, 08:20a: This is actually true. BMW is holding an event at the adjacent property and Bon Jovi is performing. They aren't even staying the entire day, though.

Strength is an ugly business

2008-11-07T11:02:00.000-08:00

If you go to Google and type in "beauty in strength", it'll spit over 5000 results back at you. Type in "strength is ugly" and you'll get two (well, at least until this entry hits the Google spider).

The idea that "being strong" is somehow attractive - physically or otherwise - makes me want to call "...uuuuh, bullcrap?". It was a Monday and there I was, sitting on my unmade bed in front of the vanity, pouring out my thoughts, questions, paranoia and tears to Grace over the phone. God was speaking to both of us in frighteningly similar ways and we were both finding it (practically) impossible to walk the road at which He kept pointing. I'd been crying for nearly three hours straight and when I caught a good look at myself "being strong" in the mirror I wanted to laugh (but I probably just cried some more). There was nothing "beautiful" about me at that moment, sucking snot as it dripped from my nose, mascara leaving black flakes in the purple rims underneath my eyes. It's a pretty hideous sight and I'll bet almost everyone can relate. I'm sure, at some point, you've also found yourself at the mercy of life, forced to crawl on your belly through raw sewage and decaying refuse not of your own making. And though you were wearing last year's jeans and hadn't shaved in weeks, those were the least of your problems because somewhere in the middle of it all you realized that the pungent smell of damp mildew and cat urine was coming off of you. But you were in the middle of the dump, neck-deep in literal and metaphorical crap, and you couldn't stop to make yourself presentable. All you could do was walk on.

"Strength is born in the deep silence of long-suffering hearts; not amid joy."

Years ago, I was ~~failing~~ following the "Body For Life" program, and one of the only things ~~I haven't repressed~~ I took away from it is the science behind strength training. Contrary to what your average yokel usually assumes, muscle tissue isn't formed during the workout proper. When you're curling or squatting or crunching, what you're really doing is tearing at the muscle that's already there. It isn't until those few days ~~of extreme pain and regret~~ after that your body begins to repair the "damage" you've ~~masochistically~~ inflicted. What makes this worthwhile is the fact that the repairs your body makes to itself are greater than what they were prior to the beating. It's like driving your Kia Rio into a telephone pole except, rather than just getting a face-full of windshield, you're also given a brand new Lexus SC coupe.

"The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places," says Hemingway. "Well, that sucks," says I. "That's PANTS." (to which Hemingway says nothing because he's been dead since 1961). Am I supposed to be happy when I'm broken simply because "strength" is my reward?

"...does God want us to suffer? What if the answer to that question is yes? See, I'm not sure that God wants us to be particularly happy... He wants us to grow up. I suggest to you that it is because God loves us that He gives us the gift of suffering... You see, we are like blocks of stone out of which The Sculptor carves the forms of man. The blows of His chisel which hurt us so much are what makes us perfect."

"Being strong" is one of the most frightening concepts because it requires one to go it alone. It's talked about often enough, the notion of bearing up each other's burdens, but I don't think it's possible nor should it even be attempted. We are given mountains to conquer that are very specific to our own lives and to lighten your own load onto someone else's shoulders is misguided. No one can ever truly know what God is working through you because He's working through YOU. Sure, in the beginning of each trial a crowd will gather to see you off and by the time you've started the ascent there'll still be a handful following to shout encouragement. The path will, inevitably, start to get steep though and what was once an enthusiastic congregation will have dwindled down to only one or two of the most resolute and loyal. At this point, you'll be getting short of breath and your baggage will be so unbearably heavy that you'll be tempted to ask one of your remaining companions to take it off your hands, and they might try. But you'll know that it's yours - and yours alone - to bear. After what feels like an eternity of stumbling and scraping uphill, the summit will break through the darkness of the trees and you'll find you're so close... but the final piece of your tour is a vertical hike and as you approach it, you'll find the path has room for only one. Even if your friends had come prepared to scale the wall (which they haven't), they'd still never have the chance to see the view from the peak. It isn't meant for them. It never was. They'll walk alongside you, cheer you on every step of the way, let you lean into them when your legs are weak... but in the end, the mountain is yours to conquer.

"Courage is doing what you're afraid to do. There can be no courage unless you're scared."

"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear."

The heartiest, most stable people I know are the most timid. Those who see the danger this world presents every waking moment of their lives and still continue to set their alarm each night have more courage than I could ever dream. You'll never be strong if your life has no fear. If you're not afraid of the consequences of failure or where you'll wind up if you throw in the towel, you will have no reason to hold on. It is that distinct fear of falling before the finish line that will keep you going even when your heart, body and mind don't want to. Deeper than my desire for the blessings I believe are waiting at the end of this battle is my crippling dread of what could become of me if I lost. I want the prize, yes, but even more so I want the confidence that comes from knowing I'll have no regrets.

When the race is over it won't be the ones that crossed the line first that will be strongest. They'll stroll past, barely out of breath, hardly sweating an ounce and they'll believe it's their own determination that carried them. The race was easy, quick - almost enjoyable. When the "losers" come straggling in, hours later, they'll feel a twinge of pity. They'll think it's a shame that it wasn't quite so easy for the others. But if you're only competing in races you're certain you can win, you're nothing but a complete pussy. "The greater difficulty, the more glory in surmounting it. Skillful pilots gain their reputation from storms and tempests." It's the beat-up, bedraggled and exhausted who gasped for breath as they crawled over the finish long after the lauding crowd had gone home that have reason to smile proudly. It hurt and still they kept going. If it isn't bringing tears to your eyes from the pain and you can bid it farewell without flipping it the bird, you had it too easy - but you did not have it good.

To be able to say you've found strength is to admit that life, at one time, was anything but beautiful. It was a crawl through a garbage heap, a lonely journey through a night with no moon and no stars to guide you, a leaky dinghy in the middle of the sea with a hurricane looming. It smelled like shit, kicked your ass and then laughed. You clung to that last thread of hope, certain that it wasn't enough to hold you but praying that somehow it would. If you're strong now it's because you once weren't, "but through it all, clung to faith".

"God places the heaviest burden on those who can carry its weight." So if you feel weak now, be proud that He believes in you enough to weigh you down. Then pray that those who have it easy get the same blessing. No one finds strength by taking an easier road.

"I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living. Wait for the LORD; be strong and let your heart take courage; Yes, wait for the LORD." (Psalms 27:13-14)

A pause for grace:

2008-11-06T10:48:00.000-08:00

I actually have a more substantial (RE: pompous and long-winded) post that I'm working on. In the meantime, though, I'm rereading Brennan Manning's "The Ragamuffin Gospel" and this line hit me hard in the breadbasket:

"When I get honest, I admit I am a bundle of paradoxes. I believe and I doubt, I hope and get discouraged, I love and I hate, I feel bad about feeling good, I feel guilty about not feeling guilty. I am trusting and suspicious. I am honest and I still play games. Aristotle said I am a rational animal; I say I am an angel with an incredible capacity for beer."

Not only is it comforting to find out I'm not alone, but it's a relief to hear such words and realize that God doesn't intend for "good" people to keep Him company in heaven. If He did, He'd be pretty lonely.

Pointless entry is pointless (but with pictures!)

2008-11-03T11:27:00.000-08:00

Fun night out at Devil's Martini with Tori. We didn't throw down until 11:30pm but we all know that life doesn't get interesting until the cover charge is in effect.

I had serious issues with the camera. I swear, in every picture we took together I looked like this.

SEE?!

Weighty-Updatey

2008-10-30T23:41:00.000-07:00

A month later and the changes are numerous... and odd.

Height: 5'4"

Weight: 119 lbs

Body Fat: 17.8%

Biceps: 11" (R); 11" (L)

Thighs: 19.25" (R); 19.5" (L)

Calves: 14.5" (R); 14.5" (L)

Hips: 36.5"

Waist: 25.5"

Bust: 29.5"

After several discussions with my trainer, John, about the best route to take to tone and firm up, I've seriously increased the intensity of the strength training I do on my own and he, in turn, has kicked up the boxing as well. I have doubled the focus on each muscle - previously, I was doing three sets of 15, focusing on one exercise for each muscle. Now I'm doing two for each muscle, meaning I'm getting six sets of 15 a piece, two different exercises. I'm trying to switch it up and do one machine and one free weight, because there are benefits to both. That's not so much fun when I'm working the lower body because I effing hate lunges but they are much more effective than the curling or leg press machines.

I know that some of the increase in poundage/size of the above from last month is, in part, from focusing more on weight training and less on cardio. However, it's discouraging to notice little things, like some of my pants not fitting the same. But this is the reason why I'm recording the details - because I want an accurate assesment so I can adapt and make changes as needed. This past month I did not change my diet in any positive ways and, in fact, did quite the opposite. In the 30+ days since I initially posted, I've become addicted to the blended Frosties at Wendy's and it's not an exaggeration to say I've probably had at least one a day the entire month of October. If you consider that at least twice a week I over-indulged on other things along with the Frosty, it's only going to harm my attempts. So while I don't think I've done any large or irreparable damage, I'm conscience of the reality and have made adjustments accordingly.

This past week, on John's insistance, I majorly decreased my carb intake and increased my protein. AND I've only had one Frosty the entire time, which is a triumph I am proud of. For the first time it hasn't been terribly difficult either and I chalk that up to the fact that I have seen the results and I don't want to jeopordize my progress.

One month down!

Equality and the command of Christ

2008-10-30T17:49:00.000-07:00

What we have here is a failure to communicate.

Arizona has Proposition 102 on the ballot this November. Originally I had planned on a long-winded post regarding the far-reaching consequences that the Far Right will be inflicting on itself (and the cause of Christ as a whole) by forcing through a bill of this nature. But just as I would chide the supporters of Prop 102 for attempting to act and speak on behalf of God, I can't allow myself to play the pretend prophet either. So rather than try to change anyone's mind, I am merely going to explain the commands of Christ as I see them and leave it at that.

I am not in support of Prop 102 for one reason: I do not see enough in the Word of God that would lead me to believe He would limit the legal rights of otherwise equal human beings.

The foundation upon which I build my life is my faith in Christ so it's there I'll begin. According to the Bible, homosexuality is a sin. Period. As a Christian, I accept this as an unavoidable Truth, in the same way I accept that lying and gossip and lust are also sins. My distaste for Prop 102 does not come from an avoidance of this particular facet of the particular Religious Law that I follow. Scripture makes clear God's feelings on the matter of "sin" and I'm in no way trying to deny the Truth that sin - any sin - has no place in God's presence.

In all honesty, I can understand why the proponents of 102 take the above Truth as far as they do. Still, I don't agree. I believe that the Truth begins and ends with the statement "homosexuality is a sin". Acknowledge that as the Word of God and go no further. I believe the body of Christ has been called to do one thing - love. The first commandment is to love God and the second is to love your neighbor as yourself. Period.

I can not, in good conscience, approve a proposition that undermines the free will and equality of a good-sized minority. Whether or not I agree with their lifestyle is irrelevant. As someone who has also sinned and fallen short of the glory of God (on a regular basis), I can see no reason why the benefits I would garner from a heterosexual marriage should be denied to someone who desires the same benefits when they are doled out by our government and not our churches.

To me, this is not a question of whether or not I agree with the idea of a man wanting to commit his life to another man. It's a question of whether or not I believe all men are created equal, not just in the eyes of the state and the nation but in the eyes of God as well. Furthermore, if I accept that to be true and accept that we are all given the free will to live our lives as we so choose, I can't see a basis for denying certain rights to certain people simply because their choices are different from my own.

In the end - and to me, this may be the most important factor that I need to think about as a Christian regarding the issue - our unjust judgment over this group of people does not show an accurate imitation of Christ to the world. We must allow for the world to change and do our best not to adapt the earth to a belief system it does not follow. We are not called to become like it or to make it more pleasant for us to live in. Rather, we are asked to be "little Christs" as C.S. Lewis said, impersonating as best we can the unconditional grace we've been shown.

"The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love." (Galatians 5:6)

It is because of love that they will come to know Him. There can not be another way.

MOAR HORROR: ¡Viva españa!

2008-10-28T14:21:00.001-07:00

As you're all already aware, I'm on a quest for wet-your-pants-keep-you-up-at-night horror that reaches beyond the borders of this fair country of ours. To begin with I kept my search confined to Asia since it was with their cinema that I'd had the most success. Recently, however, I've branched out on the recommendation of several reputable sources into the Spanish offerings. And as it turns out, the Asians aren't the only ones showing us up in terms of teeth-chattering fear.

Of the three I watched, "The Devil's Backbone" was my least favorite. It's the story of a young boy, Carlos, left at a dilapidated orphanage during the Spanish Civil War. Being the newcomer, he's pushed around by the typical playground bully (Jaime) then chased out of the storage room by Jacinto, the caretaker, who shows unreasonable amounts of rage when that place in particular is explored. That stress is exasperated even more when the ghost of a former orphan, Santi, begins making his presence known during the night, making ominous statements about their inevitable death.

Perhaps I had my expectations too high after hearing it lauded over and over again but I simply didn't care for this, at least as a horror movie. The story was compelling (if unoriginal) and the setting of war-torn Spain unique, but in the end I wound up finding the side-stories more interesting than the main murder-mystery/revenge plot. It's hard for me to recommend this because of that. Perhaps if it had been presented as drama with a side of the supernatural, rather than straight-up horror,I wouldn't have been so bored. As it stands though I was expecting more fears and less tears and consequently found myself disappointed.

"The Orphanage" is a film I've wanted to see for awhile and, thanks to Netflix instant viewing option, I finally got the chance last week. Laura and her husband, Carlos, have purchased the orphanage that she grew up in with plans to reopen it as a home for special needs children. As the renovations wind down, their son, Simon (himself an adopted child with special needs) begins talking about an imaginary playmate named Tomas who seems to have spilled a few family secrets. Though unsettled, Laura believes it's only because of the displacement that Simon feels resentful and continues moving forward with the orphanage. But when Simon disappears during the grand opening party, Laura begins to see and hear things that make her suspect Tomas might not be imaginary after all.

Like "The Devil's Backbone," this film would be better billed as a drama with supernatural elements rather than straight horror. "The Orphanage," however, is much more fulfilling in both realms and I didn't feel nearly as disappointed when the credits rolled. The build-up to the climax is steady, with enough jump points to keep you tense and the big reveal in the last thirty minutes, while not wholly original, was still fitting and shocking in its own way. The story wraps up nicely (perhaps too much for my tastes, but not "badly") and it's probably the first horror movie that left me with the warm fuzzies. It's hard to say anything bad about it as a whole because it's an incredible film - but only an above-average piece of horror. Watch it for the superb acting and the intriguing plot but not for its effective scares because those are few and far between.

I'd stated previously that I was watching the handicam-style zombie flick "[REC]", thanks to generous Youtuber ShinRyuAniSuni (as far as I've seen, a subtitled version is unavailable on DVD). This is the original film that US filmmakers remade and released in the states as "Quarantine" (which I haven't seen and therefore will not comment on). In the same vein as "The Blair Witch Project," "[REC]" is presented as "found footage" documenting the outbreak within an apartment complex of a mysterious disease that causes the afflicted to go batshit crazy and crave the flesh of the living. Angela is a local reporter with her own reality-based news program called "While You Sleep" and finds herself and Pablo, her cameraman, shadowing two firemen (Manu and Alex) as they respond to a call about a trapped woman in need of assistance. Upon arrival, they find the police and a crowd of neighbors convened already in an unsettled state with very little information on what's going down. Things go bad when the aforementioned woman attacks a police officer (taking a huge chunk of his neck off in the process) leaving him close to dead. But it's only when they find out that they're sealed into the building by the outside law enforcement and unable to leave that the chaos really erupts. Given very little information and understandably pissed off, Angela insists that Pablo keep filming as slowly the truth unfolds about what exactly it is that's being contained inside the apartment.

The premise of this film (and so many others like it, including it's American counterpart) is a familiar one that, sadly, gets screwed up again and again and again. Rarely are "shaky-cam" or "found footage" flicks executed in such a way that they're not only terrifying but believable. More often than not, they're filled with unrealistic acting or bad special effects, or worse - over-explanation. As much as it get's mocked nowadays, "Blair Witch" set the bar by having underplayed scares that were subtle enough to hold a ring of truth. Couple that with the absence of ambient music to build tension, three very clueless "actors" and an ambiguous ending (without any resolution to answer your questions) and the effect was (in its' day) unnerving to say the least.

"[REC]" follows suit beautifully. The creators feed you just enough information on the "who, what, when, why and how" to keep you satisfied while still withholding enough details to ensure you're afraid to close your eyes at night long after you've left the theater. In a setting such as this, the introduction of one lone cameraman heightens the tension as you're only allowed to see what he sees, when he sees it. Because of this the gore and violence, while revolting in their manner (the first attack from the lady is particularly gruesome), are quick and not gratuitous by any means. Again, they give just enough to shock you but not enough to overdo it. All of the actors are phenomenal in portraying real people caught in an unreal catastrophe and reacting to the events as I think anyone (in their right mind) would. And while the entire film was full of tension and well-built suspense, the last ten minutes pack a pretty awesome punch that, again, is frightening in its believability. I guarantee that I'll watch "[REC]" again (it only took me two days to force it on my best friend, Amy) and it'll still scare the ever-loving buhjeezus out of me.

Make A Difference Monday

2008-10-27T09:54:00.000-07:00

I'm stealing a really wonderful idea from Air1's morning team, Scott & Kelly, called "Make A Difference Monday".

Last month I made a startling realization during my morning commute. The on-ramp from the west-bound 202 to the north-bound 101 in Mesa is a war zone every AM. It's not uncommon to be cut-off by some impatient driver trying to merge or to watch someone else use the shoulder to bypass the fifteen cars ahead of them. While I'm a (mostly) law-abiding citizen, I get easily annoyed by ~~anyone else in an automobile unfortunate enough to be near me~~ the drivers who insist on screwing others just so they can get two car-lengths farther. My commute is consequently quite stressful.

Then one day I did something so unlike me and so contradictory to my normal "fair play" nature - I stepped on the brake and let the H3 merge in front of me. And it felt great... so I kept doing it all the way to Scottsdale and then again on the way home.

There's a good chance that the driver didn't bat an eyelash or thank GOD for the kindness of strangers from my attempt at politeness. But that's really not the point. The sentiment behind the generosity is diminished if it's only acted upon for the reward it potentially receives.

So my goal is to do something out-of-the-blue for someone(s) every Monday. The catch is that it's got to be an act that has little-to-no potential for identification. Pay for the car behind me in the Wendy's drive-thru; leave an extra $10 on the gas pump after I've filled up; purposely drop a book that I love on a bench; place a candy bar for a coworker on her keyboard before she gets into work... there are a bazillion little things that might make some random stranger's day just a little better.

I want to challenge the people who read this blog regularly (all nine of you) to do something as well. You don't have to tell me or post about it - just think about how it would make you feel to be on the receiving end and do it.

You may not know how much it touches the recipient but I promise that you'll feel better, regardless.

:)