Filed under: General Nonsense
We’re moving, so I had to go through a bunch of old papers and documents today to see what should be thrown out. And I came across an essay I wrote about six years ago for Victorian Literature. The prof tore me apart and gave me a bad mark. Re-reading her comments, I ended up feeling like crap, sitting there on the floor in the middle of my room.
This particular professor was quite brilliant and later we developed a rapport and she liked me a lot… but that old stupid essay still got me all depressed. And I can’t shake the feeling now. Obviously I’m too sensitive, but it also reminded me about how seriously I take other people’s opinions of me. Well… certain other people’s opinions of me. People I admire and respect.
A few months ago I had a dream that Bruxy Cavey hated my preaching and told me that I shouldn’t go into ministry. He’s my preacher-hero so that was no fun. Even if it was just a dream.
And I remember my opinion of my short stories hinged entirely on what a beloved writing prof thought of them.
Why do we get caught up in what other people think of us? (This sounds like a really cliched introspective blog question. Oh well.)
It appears that I’m going to have to extend the deadline for my thesis because I just don’t have enough time. Not really anything to be ashamed of… my advisor told me I was probably taking on more than is reasonable… but still I hate to think that he thinks I’m lazy (even if I am)… or something.
My parents’ standard of never-good-enough probably has something to do with it, but I think it goes deeper than that.
Perhaps we have an ingrained dependency or sensitivity to others’ approval because we were created to depend on God’s approval. But that doesn’t seem quite right, because God doesn’t have any desire for us to rail on ourselves when we fall short. Guilt is designed to inspire betterment, not induce wallowing.
I’m not sure where I’m going with any of this.
Pictures from my Turkey trip last year. Most have already seen them, but I added about fifteen new pictures.
Filed under: Feeling Cheeky, General Nonsense | Tags: bath, nudity, oprah
I understand from Oprah that there are lots of pedophiles on the internet. So to attract more people to my blog…
Whoooooooooooo!
That was really distasteful. I don’t take baths anymore. Except for when I stayed in the honeymoon suite in Istanbul with Paul after the rest of the group left for home.
Filed under: General Nonsense
Me. Sister. Brother. We played at a wedding back in the Fall.
Filed under: FYI
Looks like my sister is going to have a baby girl. Which makes me… an uncle.
It’s so odd seeing Natalie get bigger and bigger, like something out of science fiction.
Now I’m sad that I’m not going to be here for the first year of little baby girl’s life. Not that they’re very interesting for the first year. Maybe they’ll have her toilet trained and talking by the time I come back. I’m not well-versed in developmental stages.
Filed under: General Nonsense
My throngs of readers await a new post and I will not disappoint.
A recent exchange at work. I served a crazy fellow, complete with dried spittle and bloodshot eyes.
Crazy fellow: How much money is in my account?
Me: $5.12.
CF: I’ll take out five.
Me: Certainly. Is there anything else I can do for you today, sir?
CF: Are those computers binary?
Me: Uh…
CF: Like light switches. You know about light switches?
Me: Uh…
CF: They’re either on or off. Like this… on off off on. So what is it?
Me: I don’t really understand what we’re talking about.
CF: On.. off… off… on. What is it?
Me: On.
CF: On?
Me: I don’t know what we’re talking about. How do you turn a light switch off two times in a row?
CF: Are you as stupid as you look?
Me: How stupid do I look?
CF: You look like a f*ckin’ retard.
Me: Then no. Not as stupid as I look. How would you like your cash?
I saw The Family Stone with Thea on Saturday. I hope the family that I start with Thea will be honest and open and affectionate. My family likes to sit around and talk, but we’re not very good with feelings. So I ended up as this emotionally closed off person that directs all my affection towards Thea, my only outlet. Poor Thea.
I can’t tolerate being bullied. This is unrelated to the previous paragraph… I think. My pride rears up and reacts against being bullied or dominated. And it is a pride issue. I remember in Grade One punching a bully four years older than me in the face. And refusing to be pushed around in high school. It’s starting to sound like I’m proud that I’m prideful. I probably am. Sticky. It takes a conscious effort for me to submit… and be willingly vulnerable and not in control or have the upper hand. Sarcasm and put-down humour is an easy way to dominate people and an excellence pre-emptive manoeuvre against being put-down yourself. I’m just blathering on. Pride is multi-faceted, though. And infinitely more destructive than most of the other “sinful” behaviours that we focus on. I’ll have to think about this more.
I think the metaphor of slavery comes up so much in the Bible as an attack on pride.
Filed under: General Nonsense
I’ve been thinking about hope, mostly because I don’t really understand it. I looked up the definition:
“A wish or desire accompanied by confident expectation of its fulfilment.”
So that’s fine. But why is it listed along with faith and love (So these three things remain: faith, hope, and love. But the best one of these is love)?
And then Sarah’s musings on The Lord Of The Rings sparked something for me. Actually, Sam’s speech to Frodo sparked something for me. I remember watching that scene in the theatre fully expecting Sam’s reply to Frodo’s “What are we holding on to, Sam?” to be “hope.” Because there had been so much mention of hope in the movie. So that’s where I thought he was going. And it is a speech about hope. But Sam replies, “That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. And it’s worth fighting for.”
There’s an old episode of Law & Order where a young girl murders a little boy. And after psychological testing, they discover that she has a psychotic personality. When you look at videotapes of serial killers testifying or being interviewed, there’s something creepy about them… something wrong with their wiring. They’re missing some capacity for compassion and appreciating human life. Like the recent BTK killer trial, where he described the horrible things he did people as if he was describing what he had for breakfast. Creepy. So this little girl will be, with some certainty, a serial killer. But the lawyers and judges don’t know what to do with her… because they can either put her in an institution for the rest of her life in case she fulfills her psychotic potential, or release her to her parents in the hope that she won’t.
The judge invents a third option. She decides to release the girl into the custody of her parents, but says that she (the judge) will personally observe and supervise the girl’s development and counselling. The judge gives the little girl her freedom based on the hope that she can saved from her psychosis, but takes personal responsibility to see that the expectation is fulfilled.
Wow. Long-winded. But the point is that faith without the behaviour to back it up is worthless. And love without loving action isn’t love. And hope isn’t about just sitting around, waiting for Jesus to come back. Or waiting for the world to get better. Or waiting for when we’re in heaven and everything’s lalala.
Hope is knowing that the world can be better, and will be better… but we have to fight for it. There’s more to it than that, methinks. But it’s a good place to start.
On Friday, Dan and Thea came over for my birthday.
They got me three Kill Bill samurai swords: Bill’s, Budd’s, and the Bride’s. Haven’t accidentally dismembered myself yet, but it’s only a matter of time. Then we made trifle.
It was a pretty good time. I think birthdays are kinda stupid, but any reason to hang out with friends is a good one. I’m not sure what that means.
Then on Saturday we went to see the Body Worlds exhibit at the Science Centre. Well, first we stopped in Port Credit so Thea could get measured for her dress with the shoes that she’s going to wear. I had to wander around outside because I’m not allowed to see the dress, but Dan went in for a second. Thea acted horrified as if he was the groom and all the other women in the store looked at him with shock and abhorrence. I’m very curious to see the dress. Mostly because I’m not allowed to see it.
Then off to the Science Centre. We parked at a grocery store then walked to avoid the parking fee… Then it turned out that the exhibit was sold out until 6:30… which was frustrating. But we went in to see what else the Science Centre had to offer. The “space” exhibit is horribly outdated. I could find more high-tech stuff on the Internet. But the other stuff is pretty fun. Except you’re supposed to learn things at the same time. I’d rather just have the fun by itself.
The Body World exhibit was fascinating and gross. Lots of lineups, lots of people, lots of plastinated penises. I found myself being more caught up in the technique that preserved these people… and who they were in life… than rejoicing in the beautiful complexities of the human body. An occasional hair on the scalp or leg or a faint tattoo on an embalmed forearm would jolt me to remember that I was looking at real bodies… once people… not just plastic recreations. A weird, memorable experience that everyone should… experience. I should go back and reword that sentence.
Last night Thea and I sat down to revisit our guest list from November. Since our first attempt at a guest list all those months ago, we’ve adopted a two-reception wedding to accommodate more people than Wycliffe can hold, and now we have to figure out who would be more comfortable with which crowd… and how to make each reception special so people don’t feel like they’ve been invited to the crappy one. Good times. Especially when Lola entered the room and began listing off obscure relatives that would be offended if not invited. Congratulations Tito Flem and Looloo Blahblah, you’re now on the list.
Thea is currently attending a TESOL school for the week, to train for our year-long excursion to Korea at the end of the summer. I hope she finds it as useful as mine. I took the course back in ‘03 when I was planning on going to the Czech Republic. After finishing the course and discovering that my classmates were illiterate losers (I didn’t have the loving Jesus-attitude that I do now) and that I would most likely be working and stuck with similar people for a year abroad, I abandoned the idea and applied for graduate studies at Wycliffe. Also, Thea and I were moving from denial-that-we’re-dating to dating so a year away was becoming less and less appealing. And I’m doing the teaching English thing anyway in a few months, except now I get to bring along a hot wife.
Long post. I have a book review due tomorrow that I don’t feel like doing. So here I am.
I also wanted to mention my dead friend, Dave. He died shortly after my birthday several years ago so it’s hard to go through February without thinking about him.
Anyway, here’s a video talking about what happened to him and workplace safety etc.
Filed under: FYI
My parents just asked me to walk the dog. Fine. So I had a shower because I’ve been sitting in my own filth all day reading about Jesus…
Then my parents wouldn’t let me walk the dog because my hair was wet. So… I’m clean and dressed for no reason. Fantastic.
So I thought I would post a little tidbit of information to help squelch the myth about wet hair and cold weather.
“Whether your hair’s wet or not is unimportant,” says internal-medicine specialist Janet O’Mahony, M.D. “You catch a cold from someone who’s infected with the cold virus.” Mom was probably preaching the old school of thought that equated being cold with getting a cold. But several studies put the kibosh on this pearl of non-wisdom, including one in the New England Journal of Medicine. In that study, subjects were exposed to the cold virus, then to extreme temperatures. Cold or warm, wet hair or dry hair, there was no effect on their infection rate. In fact, showering before heading out is a recommended defensive measure. “Hand-to-hand contact is a significant form of cold-virus transmission,” notes O’Mahony “so you could be washing off the viruses you’ve come in contact with by simply shampooing your hair.” Guess Mom was just never into the wet look.
That’s right. I would show this to my parents but they wouldn’t believe it.
Filed under: General Nonsense
I’m plowing through this book right now since I have to review it for a class next week. I’ve avoided any of this Purpose-Driven® stuff because of the little “registered trademark” that goes with it. I hate that stuff. “The Prayer Of Jabez© for the Consistently Constipated” or other such mass-produced drivel.
But I picked this book up yesterday and decided to give it a try. And it’s pretty decent. I haven’t been moved to tears or anything, but there’s some really decent practical advice.
And it’s made me really appreciate my church. A lot of the focus of CTO is towards a particular group of people I have trouble relating to (read: teenagers). But there’s such a heartfelt and genuine passion to reach this certain group of people that I’m really proud to be a part of it in my own, very little way.
I had trouble relating to teenagers even when I was a teenager. You’d think with the ’stache I would have blended right in.
I really think there must be a way to plant a church that ministers to the gay community. Is there a way to heal their hurt without celebrating a questionable lifestyle? I’m beginning to think that the Church has been so destructive in alienating gays that it’s necessary to swing the pendulum in the opposite direction.
Finally, a picture of a girl snacking on a spider
