... and thanks to you Mr. Apatow: how the creator of "Knocked Up" is bringing manhood back
Category: Movies, TV, Celebrities
Disclaimer: in this blog I'll be talking about several movies that, from some peoples' perspective, I shouldn't have seen at all. Acknowledging that they might be right, take note that I'm not recommending anyone go SEE these films particularly, just pointing out an encouraging trend IN them. This isn't meant to be a film endorsement.
Disclaimer about the disclaimer: if you're one of my readers who isn't into Christianity, you can probably ignore that first paragraph.
Disclaimer about disclaimers in general:I don't like them.
I listen to a lot of sports talk radio.
I'm not saying I'm proud of this. I'm not recommending it. Just stating a fact.
I can't entirely explain why I do this seeing as how, generally, the programming is stale, the on-air personalities are abrasive, and the callers are very, very not sober. But I like sports and it's mindless background noise and ...
... you know what? It is what it is and I have no defense other than that it sets up my point, which is that the worst part about listening to sports talk radio is the commercials. These 30-second spots of capitalistic creativity give searing insight on what advertising experts believe encapsulates masculinity -- namely strip clubs, online gambling and allegedly-natural male enhancements. Tyler Durden would be oh-so-proud.
Now I'm not going to rant and rave about how the male population in general has done its fair share to screw up the world by being lousy boyfriends, brothers, friends, husbands and fathers. I'm not going to go on and on about how disgusting it is to me that, apparently, we believe the epitome of being a man is objectifying women, getting plastered, and living with no responsibilities. I won't do this (for more than a paragraph anyway) because so many other people have said these things, and I feel like I'd just be reinforcing the cliche.
Instead of this blog being some negative rant, I would like to publicly thank an unlikely source for presenting the world with a more inspiring view of masculinity (albeit it in a conflicted, near-contradictory sort of way). Judd Apatow, I send you my thanks.
In case you don't know, Judd Apatow -- along with his crew of regulars -- are the creative force behind such movies as The 40-Year-Old Virgin, Knocked Up, and most recently, Forgetting Sarah Marshall. And in these movies the guy is casting a fresh vision of masculinity in the 21st century.
No, really. This isn't a long, sarcastic setup. I'm not being snide. Consider:
In The 40-Year-Old Virgin Steve Carrell's character begins the movie on a quest to have sex for the first time. Along the way he receives all kinds of advice from his porno-loving, sex-obsessed, borderline alcoholic friends. But by the end of the movie he realizes he would rather build a healthy, long-lasting relationship than sleep with someone.
In the process of building that relationship with the newly-found woman of his dreams (who has already been jilted by the twisted shadow of hollow masculinity) Carrell's character grows up: he gets rid of his mint-condition collectable toys, relics of an extended-adolsecence he's still struggling to escape; he quits his dead-end job and pursues his entrepreneurial dream; and ultimately waits until his wedding day to have sex with the love of his life. Why? Because life, as it turns out, is about more than just sex.
Or take the movie Knocked Up as an example. A guy gets a girl pregnant off a one-night stand, but chooses to accept his responsibility as the father. He eventually falls in love with the mother and, in order to win her trusts, stops smoking weed, moves away from his do-nothing friends, and gets a promising job (abandoning his "internet start-up" project of cataloging celebrity nude scenes in movies).
Or take the most recent Apatow example, Forgetting Sarah Marshall (one note for the sake of accuracy: Apatow served as producer for this movie, not as writer/director like in the previous movies). Forgetting Sarah Marshall is in some ways similar to Knocked Up in that it features an early 30s man-child (Peter Bretter, played by the movie's writer Jason Siegel). Bretter is lazy, unkempt, afraid to really puruse his dreams, and has little to contribute in a relationship with a woman other than his good intentions. It's not that he's not nice. It's that he's just not much of a man. He is, in many ways, a by-product of the Budweiser, Axe, Cialis, Hooters, Playboy (need I go on?) advertising teams.
(spoilers ahead)
After getting dumped by his girlfriend for being all the adjectives listed above, Peter tries to find comfort in "manly" activities like drinking a lot and sleeping around. This lifestyle digs him deeper into his misery over being dumped, but ultimately he finds a girl who sees what Peter could be and, despite having baggage of her own (again, from masculinity gone wrong), pushes him to take ownership of his life, to use his talents, to contribute to the world, to stop living life in a self-centered alcoholic haze. Ultimately Peter's salvation comes not through a relationship, but through him living out of his strength. And it's only when this happens that the relationship with his love interest works out.
As bizarre as this description is going to sound (and knowing this clearly paints the paradox of an Apatow film) Peter starts and ends the film naked (neither in a sexual context. At the beginning he is naked and being dumped. At the end he is naked, but has won the girl. What happens in between is Peter knowing who he is, learning how to live life with confidence, and yes, of being comfortable in his own skin. I seriously think there's an intentional metaphor at play.
And I say all of this because it gives me hope.
Now Apatow is no moral crusader, and in many ways his films do celebrate (or at least gaze fondly at) the life his maladjusted, sophmoric misfits are living. When I watch his movies I get the impression he has stumbled onto truths that he's not sure what to do with yet. So while as a filmmaker Apatow is very talented, morally his movies exist somewhere between adolescence and maturity ... but at least they are leaning toward maturity. And that, I think, is progress, especially considering that Apatow's films draw college guys in droves.
At the very least it's better than sports talk radio.
I've been thinking a lot about Peter tonight ... as in "Simon Peter from the Bible" not Gabriel, Weir, Jackson. Also, not the one who kept company with Paul and Mary ...
... okay, not the one who hung with Paul and Mary and smoked weed.
Anyway, I was thinking about that scene after Peter denies Jesus, and then a few days later decided to "go fishing," I've heard a bunch of people say that when Peter does this he's reverting back to his "pre-Jesus" life and I suppose I've always vaguely thought that Peter didn't really know what else to do after the crucifixion, so he chose the path of least resistance. There's probably some truth to that. But it seems to me that Peter returning to his previous profession wasn't just about making a living. It was about giving up on the dream that he could be significant. Or more to the point, giving up the illusion that he was the kind of person who deserved to be in the presence of Jesus. That fairy tale dream -- that somehow he had what it took -- had been thoroughly shattered.
I wonder if , well before Jesus entered his life, Peter was a deeply insecure man. Maybe he was always quick to give his two cents because he was afraid if he didn't say something, didn't make something happen, people would realize he didn't belong. Maybe he was always slightly on edge during his three years with Jesus, feeling like he wasn't quite smart enough or cultured enough, or holy enough to be a disciple of such a brilliant rabbi.
But Peter would have never walked away from Jesus, because he knew more than anything else that Jesus believed in him, had chosen him specifically, had sought him out over a thousand other people. This thought alone kept him constantly by Jesus' side. I wonder if, in his friendship with Jesus, Peter experienced glimpses of a love so purely unconditional, it burned away his insecurities, like the heat of a sun burns away the mist.
But now, after everything that happened, the knowledge of Jesus' incomprehensible love which had once given Peter life, was threatening to crush him.
It was this love, this belief and acceptance and empowerment that radiated from Jesus, that Peter betrayed. In a moment of fear -- fear of being arrested, fear of being ostracized, fear of being mocked -- Peter sold out Jesus and said he didn't even know Him. And immediately after saying it, Peter realized the depth of his depravity ... and he ran.
And when Peter went fishing that day on the beach he was still running. He could never be the person Jesus had called him to be. He would never amount to anything. He believed himself a horrible, sinful traitor, deserving of death. He realized that his worst fears -- that he could never measure up, that he could never be someone who mattered -- were all true. Jesus was stupid to place his trust in him. And so he ran back to that boat, and to those nets, and to a mind-numbling repetition that offered a distraction while asking very little in return. It was a world he could understand. It was a world he deserved.
Maybe this is why, after fishing all night and catching nothing, and after Jesus told them to cast out their nets one more time and they did and caught more than they could carry, and after Peter realized that it was Jesus on the shore ... maybe it was in the context of Peter going back to fishing that Jesus asks Peter "do you love me more than these" (and here I think he must be referring to the fish).
I wonder if in this exchange Jesus is asking Peter if he gets it. Does Peter understand that Jesus loves him so much that even the worst of betrayals will be forgiven? Does Peter get the fact that his worth isn't found in "doing" but in the fact that he is loved by Jesus? Does he understand that no fault or flaw or failure is too deep to be healed?
And if so, can he finally stop finding meaning in the fish -- in what he has to offer -- and instead rest in the excrutiatingly, uncomfortably uncoditional love of Jesus. If Peter could get that, then he could truly become the "fisher of men" Jesus had called him to be those three years ago. He could live in the freedom of his identity in Christ.
Of course a lot of this is just my imagination running wild. Maybe Peter wasn't like this at all, and maybe I'm misinterpreting scripture. But I wonder if this is what was going on inside Peter ... largely because I feel a lot of these things going on inside me.
levar burton would be proud____ OR ______ a new year’s resolution updated
So I'm not really a "New Year's Resolution making" kind of guy ... mostly because I'm not a "New Year's Resolution keeping" kind of guy. But this last January I broke with tradition and resolved to read 50 books in 2008, or around one a week.
I'm now 15 weeks in, and am happy to report I'm failing by only the slimmest of margins ... which is a huge improvement over my normal trimester(ish) report. By my count I'm sitting at 14 right now: four in January, three in February, three in March, and four in April (although two of the books were so short I should probably only count them as one ... but I'm not gonna).
Anyway, here's the list so far, complete with grades and (where I deem it necessary) elaboration:
January
-- The Road (see this blog for more info) by Cormac McCarthy: A
-- wrapped up Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers: B-
-- Catch 22 by Joseph Heller: B+
-- 5 Dysfunctions of a Team by Patrick Lencioni: B-
February
-- What is the What by Dave Eggers: A- This slightly fictionalized, but mostly true, story of one of the "Lost Boys of the Sudan" is Eggers true "heartbreaking work of staggering genius." It completely changed how I think about the injustices happening in Africa.
-- Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffsby Chuck Klosterman: B+ Didn't exactly make a lasting change in me, but at the time I couldn't wait till I had a chance to read more. Klosterman is a pop culture philosopher of sorts ... and pretty good at it.
-- Random book I don't remember the name of and now can't find lying around by ... doesn't much matter: F I know I read it ... I also know I KEPT reading it just to chalk up a tally on my 2008 goal. Probably not keeping with the SPIRIT of this little endeavor ...
March
-- The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold: B- A great story about a girl watching the shockwaves of her tragic murder from heaven. At least it WAS a great story until (spoiler sentences ahead) it went "City of Angels" toward the end (no one freaking leaves heaven to come to earth ... that's why they call it HEAVEN!!!)
-- Sex, Sushi and Salvationby Christian George: C -- I really wanted to like this book. Honestly. The guy is trying to channel the spirit of Klosterman and Donald Miller which, I must say, is far more ambitious than most Christian books I read. But the problem was just that ... it felt like he was trying. The guy has writing potential and could very well write a great book. He just needs to find a more natural voice.
-- The Faith by Chuck Colson: N/A -- The book is in a lot of ways a good summary of why Christianity believes what it does. I'll definitely keep it on hand as a resource ... in the same way I'll keep a textbook on hand. That's kinda what this book felt like -- not that I mind textbooks ... I just don't know how to grade them either ...
April
The Shackby William P. Young: A -- This is one of the most moving works of Christian fiction I've ever read. Technically it's about the struggle of reconciling a loving God with an evil world, but saying it that way robs this book of all its beauty. It's a little bit Pilgrim's Progress, a little bit Frank Peretti but truthfully is just its own, unique thing. While an occasional moment here and there is a bit cheesy, the book's written with skill.
And while it raised SEVERAL theological red flags along the way, the more I thought about it, the more I realized Young was simply taking what I truly believe to a logical conclusion. I highly recommend this to any Christian, or to someone who can't find a loving God in the pain of the world all around them.
Living Biblically for a Year -- A.J. Jacobs: B+. The fascinating experiment of an agnostic Jew to attempt to follow every Biblical law for a year. This book is funny, honest, and moving ... but truthfully had me a few pages in when Jacobs says he was surprised during this year to find out "just how ridiculously flawed I am." This would have been an easy A if he'd given Christianity a fair shot. Unfortunately about 90% of the book is really aimed at Judaism, which I found disappointing.
Whatever You Think, Think the Opposite by Paul Arden: D-. A list of ridiculous, sweeping statements like "make wrong decisions" that are then supposed to become unintuitive genius but really just are ... unintuitive. The book is as pointless as it is quick to read ... I spare it an F simply because the internal design is pretty cool.
Curious Events in History by Michael Powell: C+ as a book to take on a plane. A if you're looking for reading material while -- um -- preoccupied on the toilet.. In that capacity, it served me well ... and taught me that President James Garfield probably wouldn't have died at his assassins hands if his incompetent doctors had sterilized their hands before digging the bullet out.
There’s a scene in Disney’s Beauty and the Beast that’s always vaguely creeped me out, which isn’t the most manly way to start a story, but is nonetheless true.
It’s the part where the bad guys are roaming through the Beast’s castle, and all of a sudden every object becomes equal parts animated (pun?) and angry. The vanity closet becomes a psychotic prison that turns people into cross-dressers. The candelabra (good ol’ Lumiere) becomes a blowtorch. Even the books get in on it, flying off the shelves and smacking people upside the head.
That last part is what my recent trip to Barnes and Noble felt like -- like books were lunging off the shelves at me, in an overwhelming array of philosophical persuasion. I thought my $30 gift card and I were just running an innocent little errand for new reading material -- but it turned out I was walking into a war zone.
It all started less than two steps inside the main doors when a book from a nearby display came flying off its table and smacked me in the face. The book was entitled "A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life’s Purpose" and is one of the most popular books around right now thanks to pop-culture’s self-appointed arbitar of good literature, Queen Oprah. This book claims that Jesus’ teachings are primarily about finding a new level of self-actualization -- about putting off the ego and being absorbed in a higher power. According to this book, the good news Jesus brings is that we’re capable of fixing ourselves.
I put the book down and walked away -- Oprah’s warm, yet uncomfortably insistent stare from the display still boring into the back of my head -- only to be knocked over as another book ricocheted off my left temple. It was a new book called Christ the Lord: the Road to Cana and was written by Anne Rice, a former atheist/vampire novelist turned devout Christian. Her book takes very seriously Jesus’s claim to be quite literally God in the flesh.
But no sooner did I put this book down than the new book by Deepak Chopra flew spine-first into my occipital lobe.This book, entitled The Third Jesus, states modern-day Christianity has erred in believing too literally in the Jesus of the Bible. According to Chopra, Jesus was a wandering mystic who by uncovering certain truths entered an elevated level of "God-consciousness" that we all can attain by following His example.
At this point, bloodied and bruised, I limped toward another section, any section, that I hoped would be friendlier -- maybe the Rachel Ray books in the Food section, she seems fairly kind and non-controversial. but on my way one last book hit me in the small of my back, toppling me to the floor. The name of the book escapes me now -- but it claimed to answer some of the toughest questions leveled at evangelical Christianity, including a defense of the Jesus depicted in the Bible.
***
It seems to me that in terms of popularity Jesus is like Owen Wilson’s character Hansel, from the movie Zoolander -- "he’s so hot right now." In other words, everybody’s on good terms with this Jesus of Nazareth guy. After a couple decades of speculation on whether Jesus even existed, most people now echo the Doobie Brothers famous (though awkwardly worded) refrain that "Jesus is just alright with me." Or maybe a better cultural icon of this movement would be the (cringe-inducing) t-shirt "Jesus is my Homeboy" that was popular a couple years ago.
Everyone from agnostics to Zionists regard him as a great moral teacher. Some, such as Buddhists and Muslims, regard him to be on a spiritual plane higher than most humans will ever be. Others, such as Mormons, believe him to be the greatest of all created being. And then, of course, there are devout Christians who claim him to be nothing less than God-in-the-flesh. Never created. Equally God and equally man.
Regardless, everyone generally has nice things to say. I mean, publicly talking about Jesus all the time might make people feel a little strange, but badmouthing Him would just be seen as rude, because what did He ever do to anybody? In this Jesus has become that super-nice guy at the office everyone says nice things about, but who never gets invited to any parties.
But my recent biblio-battle royale made something very clear to me -- most people don’t like the Jesus that’s actually in the Bible, they like the Jesus they’ve decided should’ve existed.
***
There’s this great scene in the Bible where the Pharisees -- the religious authorities of Jesus’ day -- bring a married woman caught having an affair and throw her to the ground at Jesus’ feet. She is naked and ashamed and convulsing in fear from head to toe. Her breathing is rapid and shallow. She’s curled in a ball both to hide her nakedness and to shield herself from the stoning she knows is coming. That is, after all, the punishment for adultery.
But then something interesting happens. Jesus writes in the dirt -- we have no idea what -- and one by one these religious hypocrites drop their stones and walk away. This hugely popular story contains an even more popular phrase that Jesus utters right before the Pharisees leave: "he who is without sin, throw the first stone." People love this line because it represents everything we want Jesus to be -- open, tolerant, non-judgmental, not stuck in absolutes, etc. And to some extent this is true in that this is one of the most beautiful stories of Jesus’ compassion in the Bible.
But ...
But there’s a line at the end of this story that doesn’t get as much press. Jesus asks the woman "is there anyone left who condemns you?" and when she says no Jesus replies "neither do I condemn you, go and sin no more."
It’s those last five words that don’t get as much attention.
While it’s true that Jesus is a remarkable example of compassion, He’s most certainly not an example of the ever-popular idea that "everyone has to choose what’s right for themselves, and no one else can place value on their choices." He has no problem telling this woman she’s sinning and needs to stop it. And since Jesus says lusting in your heart is adultery too, that means by default that we’re all in the same boat as that woman. Anyone who wants to be homeboys with Jesus should take that into consideration.
Jesus also claims there’s only one God, and only one way to God -- namely through Himself: "I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life, no man comes to the Father but by me." Or how about where He claims to be able to forgive sin in Mark 2:5; or where He says he will one day sit on a throne in heaven and judge the world in Matthew 25:31-46; or where He claims that "before Abraham was ’I AM,’" and in so doing nearly gets stoned since "I AM" was the name God gave to describe Himself a few thousand years before Jesus. The list could go on and on.
My point is that this Jesus is a much different Jesus than the one of Buddhism, or Mormonism, or of the non-religious types who like that he cared for the poor a lot. He is not a "wise spiritual leader" or an "enlightened being." He was either God become man who died and rose again, or He was a kook, a psycho, an insane man so sick he took his delusions to the grave. Or one could say that the Biblical accounts are greatly exaggerated, but if that’s the case than we really know nothing about this Jesus guy at all and should give up talking about him altogether.
But no one, it seems, really wants to do that. His moral teachings seem too powerful, too profound, too true to be that of crazy man. Yet while we can’t write Him off, many also can’t believe Jesus was who He said. And so to split the difference Chopra, Oprah, and thousands of others try to treat Jesus like a player profiles on the Wii gaming system -- they make Him look however they want.
***
When I was talking before about my trip to Barnes and Noble I forgot to mention that I did end up buying a book with my gift card. It’s called "The Year of Living Biblically" by an agnostic Jew named A.J. Jacobs, and it chronicles the writer’s attempt to follow every rule in the Bible (including not cutting his hair, not wearing clothing with mixed fabrics, and, of course, obeying the Ten Commandments) for an entire year. I’m only halfway through, but so far the book has been amusing, moving, occasionally frustrating, and overall one of the most engaging reads I’ve picked up in awhile.
I knew I was going to buy it after I read this line in the introduction: "As with most biblical journeys, mine has taken me on detours I could never have predicted. I didn’t expect to herd sheep in Israel ... Or hear Amish jokes from the Amish. And I didn’t expect to confront just how absurdly flawed I am."
And as I was reading that line it hit me that this is exactly what happens when I choose to interact with the Jesus of the Bible -- I realize I’m not near as good a person as I like to think. I am not as accepting as I like to pretend. I am selfish with my money and time. I hurt others with my words and actions. I tell "white lies that I pretend are there to shield others, but really exist to keep that person at arm’s length. Jesus’ teachings make these things clear to me.
Jesus’ teachings force me -- force anyone -- to see that we are broken and in need of fixing. So for those of us -- including myself -- who are tempted to make a "Wii Jesus" in our image, we are effectively saying "I’m capable of fixing myself."
And maybe someone out there can. But I can’t, and I haven’t known anyone who else who has. As the Bible says in a couple places "there is no one righteous (perfect) -- no not one." This puts us at the feet of this God-man of the Bible, trembling from head to toe because we realize that we’ve broken a law ... and that the punishment for it is death.
Which is why the most beautiful truth in the world is that, like the adulteress, when we look into the eyes of Jesus, all we see are eyes of love.
a poem from high school, my deepest fear ... yep, another gratuitously personal blog
Category: Religion and Philosophy
My senior year of high school I had to memorize this poem for AP English called "George Gray." The poem was part of an anthology written by a guy named Edgar Lee Masters, and what makes this anthology unique is that every poem was written from the perspective of someone who’s dead. Some of these poems are funny. Some of them are just bizarre. And some of them, like "George Gray," are tragic.
"George Gray" is written from the perspective of a man who spends his afterlife staring at the inscription written on his tombstone: "a boat, with a furled sail, at rest in a harbor." The person who wrote this inscription was saying that finally the deceased’s soul was at peace, but George remarks that "in truth, this pictures not my destination, but my life."
He goes on to say how all his life he fled from opportunity, love ... and tragedy and how his life was mostly about risk avoidance, while acknowledging that "all the while I hungered for meaning in my life." And as George contemplates all of this he comes to his conclusion:
"and now I know that we must lift the sails of destiny, and catch the wind wherever it may drive the boat. To put meaning in one’s life may end in madness, but life without meaning is the torture of restlessness and vague desire, it is a boat longing for the sea, and yet afraid."
This poem had a huge impact on me my senior year, probably because it perfectly encapsulated this burning sense of urgency I had to go and DO something, BE something, to not waste my life for one more second. I, in a combination of teenage passion, legitimate life-calling, and immature arrogance felt like a boat wanting to race into the ocean while everyone else puttered around in the harbor.
But I say this like the power of this poem has passed for me when the truth is that nine years since I memorized it I can still quote it from memory. And often when I think about this poem I still picture myself as the bold little ship sailing out into a great big world, brave enough to truly live.
But that was before yesterday, when I was telling a friend about this poem and she asked me one simple question: "so what is your harbor?" Or to phrase her question another way, what are the things in life that keep you from being who you’ve been created to be.
Somehow this friend intuitively saw what I didn’t -- that this poem doesn’t just appeal to me because it’s about living "fully alive", it’s because secretly I’m afraid that I don’t have what it takes to sail out into the ocean. It’s because I’m afraid I’ll end up like George Gray.
I spend huge segments of my life caught in the tension between who I want to be and what I’m willing to settle for. I am passionate ... but I am lazy. I have plans ... but I’m horribly unorganized. I want to live a life of sacrifice and love ... but I’m undisciplined, selfish, and all-too-often consumed by momentary impulses and desires.
And all that boils down to this: I want to be completely, fully, totally devoted to Jesus ... in theory. The problem is that in the gritty reality of every day life I don’t always want to much at all ... or at least I don’t have the willpower to. I am Paul in Romans 7: "the good I want to do, I don’t do. And what I don’t want to do is what I do instead."
Now Paul ends this passage saying "who will free me from this life that is dominated by sin and death? Thank God! The answer is in Jesus Christ our Lord." I’ve taught this "freedom from sin in Jesus" message a thousand times. Heck, that message is one of my life callings. I believe it in the core of my being.
And yet ...
And yet I look at my life and I see these deeply ingrained, horribly established fatal flaws. I see things about myself that, if they don’t change (or at least get better), will anchor me to the harbor. And what’s scary -- what frightens me as much as anything -- is that if I don’t face some of these flaws head on I’ll .... get comfortable. I’ll decide it’s okay to putter around in my harbor and that going out to sea is overrated.
This is my fear: that the pain and anxiety and simple "not fun-ness" of facing my issues will eventually win out, and that I’ll settle for less, and that God will leave me to my choice. I think more than ever before I’m aware that God’s path -- at least in the immediate future -- is to deliberately take me into the pain of Him fixing me ... and that THAT is the only path to "raising the sails, and catching the winds of destiny wherever they may drive the boat."
The question, I suppose, is am I willing to give it all up in the short term -- my pride, my comfort, my outer appearance of having it all together, my misdirected dreams and insecurities that are wound up around my soul so tightly that to give them up feels like a part of me dying -- am I willing to give all that up so that I can sail into the ocean?
I want to ... desperately ... more than anything. But I am "a boat, longing for the sea, and yet afraid."
And so tonight the best I can offer to God is "I want to want you. I want to want to surrender to you. I want to want to be more committed to you than to the temporary trinkets I spend most of my day chasing after."
I feel like the man asking Jesus to heal his son who -- in one of the best prayers to God ever -- said "Lord, I do believe. Help me with my unbelief."
George Gray
I have studied many times
The marble which was chiseled for me—
A boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor.
In truth it pictures not my destination
But my life.
For love was offered me and I shrank from its disillusionment;
Sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid;
Ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances.
Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life.
My Near Perfect Day ___ OR ____ "Starbucks, Vegetarians, and Crazy Tacos"
Category: Life
So today was one of those near-perfect days.
It started this morning around 9:30 as I hopped in the car, headed toward Laguna Beach, and grabbed a delicious Razz-matazz Jamba Juice smoothie on the way.
I arrived at the beach around 10, laid in the sun for two hours doing some reading, and then walked doing the street until I found a crazy taco hut named -- appropriately -- Taco Loco, and had one of the best order of nachos I’ve ever experienced.
I then walked further down the street to the movie theater, discovered there wasn’t a show for another two hours, and went to a local Starbucks, intending to read ... until I woke up an hour-and-a-half later realizing I’d fallen asleep in the giant, cushy chair I was sitting in.
I then went back to the movie theater, grabbing ice cream along the way, enjoyed the flick, walked the 6 or so blocks back to my car, but rather than leave decided to go exploring, which today meant driving down any street that took me to a higher elevation.
Eventually the street I was on dead-ended into a series of trails that I hiked up for a couple minutes, where I topped a hill and saw nothing but miles and miles of ocean spread out before me ... I’d found the highest peak in the general Laguna Beach area.
It was one of the more beautiful things I’ve seen since living in California. I’d love to describe it to you ...
... but I didn’t write this blog intending to talk about all this. It all just kind of happened. I mean, I think I’m keeping all that stuff in here when I post, but what I intended to share with you -- noble reader -- is a lesson I learned today. And that lesson is this:
If, when talking with a complete stranger while waiting in line at "The Crazy Taco" you happen to ask said stranger what’s good at that food establishment. And IF, in that stranger’s response, they ask you if you’re a vegetarian ... in this scenario it’s not a good idea to make the "are you kidding me face?" when answering because -- and I see this clearly now in retrospect -- vegetarians are the only people who ever think someone else might be a vegetarian.
Yep. Like I said, today was one of those near-perfect days ...
Currently
listening
:
Gimme Fiction
By
Spoon
Release date: 10 May, 2005
I used to love the old Looney Tunes cartoons growing up. The Bugs Bunny and Tweety Show was must-see TV for me every Saturday morning, complete with its introductory Broadway-esque musical interlude ("overture, candlelights ..."). But there was one Looney Tunes short I never much cared for. A cartoon featuring an entrepreneurial blue collar worker, and an evil (yet remarkably talented) frog, who just-so-happened to burst into Vaudevillian song and dance every so often.
The aforementioned man -- who in my opinion represented capitalism at its finest; an American’s American -- immediately realized this could be his ticket to achieving his dream of financial stability and general peace. All the man needed was for the frog (Michigan J. Frog, actually) to sing a couple times in public. After that the man would be wealthy, the frog would be using his God-given abilities, a happy ending for all, right?
Well not in this cartoon. In this cartoon Michigan J. Frog refuses to sing when anyone other than the man is watching. And anyone who has seen this cartoon knows, just KNOWS, that the frog was doing it on purpose. He was doing it to mess with the man’s mind. To drive him insane. And ultimately, that’s exactly what happens. The story ends with the man penniless and mentally crushed. All because the stupid frog wouldn’t perform in public.
Why am I recounting all this, you ask? Because my car -- oh how I hate you 2003 Chevy Monte Carlo-- is the Michigan J. Frog of cars.
Approximately two months ago, some of the circuitry in my car starting going crazy. First the automatic locks went out. Then the dome light would flicker on for no good reason and I’d have to manually turn it off. Then there would be an incessant clicking noise whenever the car started, and all the interior lights would surge with each click.
Freaked out, I turned the car off, bummed a ride home, and took it to the shop the next day. But when I started the car up to drive it over there, nothing was wrong. No clicking. No lights surging. Oh sure, the locks and domelight were still messed up, but I was told "that was just a bad fuse." Of course it cost me $200 to get everything examined and fixed, but the final say was "there’s no bigger problem."
"Well what about that clicking noise and the surging?" I asked.
"It, never actually did that when we were looking at it" they said, skeptically.
"Well I’m telling you it WAS doing it!"
"Oh sir, I’m sure it was happening, but I guess we fixed it."
"Well did you DO anything that would have fixed something like that?"
"... well, no ..."
So I drove the Michigan J. Monte Carlo home. And everything was fine ... for a couple weeks. Then one day ...
click FLASH! click FLASH! click FLASH!
It was like a poltergeist had possessed my vehicle.
click FLASH! click FLASH! click FLASH!
I said a short prayer and splashed some Aquafina water over the dash. No effect.
click FLASH! click FLASH! click FLASH!
The lights were flickering in rhythm with the clicking, pandamonium was everywhere, my car’s little warning box said something to the effect of WARNING!! YOUR CAR IS ON THE VERGE OF BECOMING A BILLOWING FIREBALL OF CARNAGE!!
And so, freaked out, I bummed a ride home and the next morning took it to the shop. But as I slowly, gingerly, gently, turned the ignition to start the car there was .... nothing. No flashing. No poltergeist. No clicking. No billowing fireball of carnage.
But the words of that warning screen were seared into my mind so I decided to take the car in anyway. It was at this point I started seeing the connection between my car and that stupid frog from the cartoon.
I hate cars I thought to myself on the drive to the shop. I hate frogs too. I hate frogs and cars. Carfrogs. Cogs. I hate Cogs. And all the while the lyrics "hello my baby, hello my darlin’, hello my ragtime gal" played on a reoccuring loop in the back of my head.
So I got to the shop and, once again, tried to explain my problem.
"The electronics were going crazy! The locks are fried again! My domelight is nuts! And that clicking sound! And the warning message! Carnage! Fireball!!
"Sir, just calm down, we’ll work this out ... now you say there was a clicking noise and all the lights were surging."
"Yes, exactly. It was like my car was possessed by a poltergeist."
"Excuse me sir?"
"A poltergeist. It’s the German word for a disembodied spirit that moves objects arou ..."
"I know what a poltegeist is. So you think your car is possessed?" A condescending collage of empthay and arrogance worked its way across their faces.
"Well ... uh ... I don’t know ... I mean no ... I mean ... "
"Sir how about we just look at it and you go on home and we’ll call you when we get it fixed."
"Um, okay, yes. Just fix the crazy lights and the clicking. Get rid of the frogs."
"What?"
"Nothing."
Five hours later I get a call.
"Good news Mr. Pease, we fixed your car!"
"Oh wow, that’s GREAT! So what was causing all of that stuff?"
"Yep, we fixed your fried automatic locks, and apparently your cigarette lighter went out too -- you been smoking it up there Mr. Pease, huh, have you huh? [wink wink], no just kidding -- and we found a fuse that melted down. But we fixed all that and you’re good to go."
"...
... uhhhh, great ...
... so what caused all this again?"
"Well Mr. Pease, we just don’t really know."
"What do you mean you don’t know!"
"Well the car seems to be acting just fine now!"
"But obviously it wasn’t at some point in time! I mean look at all the crazy stuff that get messed up. SOMETHING caused that!!"
"Oh of course, the ghosts right? Well don’t worry Mr. Pease we took care of all those ghosts for you too, free of charge!! ...
... but the rest of the bill will be $273."
And I tell you this story so you’ll understand this conclusion: my car is clearly possessed by the spirit of Michigan J. Frog, and its problems will never ever, ever stop until I’m run into the insane asylum. I’ve taken the car to another, more competent mechanic, and he’s told me that the problem CAN be identified, but only when the car is actually acting up ... which of course means it’ll never be fixed.
Now in the cartoon the man eventually seals the frog up in a box and stuffs the box in a building that was being constructed. I don’t think that’ll work with my car. But there ARE options on how to get rid of this stupid thing. So if you hear a story about a 2003 Chevy Monte Carlo going up in a billowing blaze of carnage somewhere in Southern California , don’t necessarily be alarmed ...
... and I always claimed people DIDN’T spontaneously bust out into coordinated song and dance
So I normally don’t make a YouTube video the primary fetaure of one of my blog posts... I’ve always seen it more as a medium for my writing than anything else. But this ... this ... it’s just so good. I REALLY want to do this somewhere, and I feel like I know enough of the right kind of people who might actually be willing to try it ... it’s a beautiful dream my California friends, join me in it. (thanks Griff for bringing this video to my attention)
a completely unedited rant against the totalitarian regime of Daylight Savings Time
Category: Life
They do it to us every year ... every single, stupid year.
"Here's an hour of free sleep" they say. "I mean, who doesn't want free sleep? And we're just GIVING it away!!! No strings attached!!!!"
The stupid lying liars.
And then one morning the following spring I wake up and curse the whole stupid system that I stupidly give into every winter because I'm too stupidly shortsighted to remember how bad it's going to suck when I lose an hour come spring time.
It's time for us to be done with Daylight Savings Time. I think we can all agree that having extra light in the evening -- the system we're now back on -- is the best way to go, so let's just leave it be and stop messing around with stuff.
Seriously, doesn't it seem like this whole Daylight Savings Time thing is some prank that accidentally caught on? Some bored teenagers back in the 1700s got bored and thought "what if we turned all the clocks AHEAD an hour and then everyone wakes up tired, and cranky and wishing they were dead!!"
And then everyone just decided to roll with it until the summer, when people realized "hey, we're losing out on some quality evening sunlight" and then switched back. But this made the crotchety old people mad who decided they LIKED it being light at 5 a.m. in the middle of the winter and so everyone just compromised.
Well I say "NO!" to stupid pranks that became traditions (as I'm presuming my made up story to be true). I say "NO!" to being tricked every winter into losing an hour in the spring! I say "NO!" to the man's exploitation of my desire for instant sleep gratification that ends up making me miserable later.
We can change this! WHO'S WITH ME!!!! (other than these people...).
So a couple weeks ago I wrote a blog about Monet and atheism that, among other things, made me sound way more cultured than I really am.
Well apparently the charade (in my mind I'm pronouncing that cha-RAUD for some reason) worked because Relevant Magazine picked up the article (after I tweaked/submitted it).
I found this out from friend/former suitemate Mr. Chip Gillespie (check out his photo company here), as the good people over at relevantmagazine.com forgot to tell me ... not that I'm complaining.
-- The Road (see 
-- What is the What by Dave Eggers: A- This slightly fictionalized, but mostly true, story of one of the "Lost Boys of the Sudan" is Eggers true "heartbreaking work of staggering genius." It completely changed how I think about the injustices happening in Africa. 
-- The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold: B- A great story about a girl watching the shockwaves of her tragic murder from heaven. At least it WAS a great story until (spoiler sentences ahead) it went "City of Angels" toward the end (no one freaking leaves heaven to come to earth ... that's why they call it HEAVEN!!!)
The Shack by William P. Young: A -- This is one of the most moving works of Christian fiction I've ever read. Technically it's about the struggle of reconciling a loving God with an evil world, but saying it that way robs this book of all its beauty. It's a little bit Pilgrim's Progress, a little bit Frank Peretti but truthfully is just its own, unique thing. While an occasional moment here and there is a bit cheesy, the book's written with skill.
