While remarking on my Pastor's use of technology the other day, as well as his revelation that he was going to switch to the iPhone from Android for extremely dubious reasons, I thought to myself all of the times that I have assisted pastors/churches, and how often they have burned me for having done so. (THAT's an AWESOME run-on sentence.)
To further add to the mix, I've been having conversations with people from other churches in the area, in which the church (or pastor) has tried to spiritualize their attempts to make the church "cool." It was then that I realized: There is a huge drive to try to make Church edgy by approximating the hipster stereotype, which has resulted in a weird mix.
This is a "how-to" guide in how to be the new church. Remember, you aren't part of the new "cool church" unless you fit into this mold:
Section 1: Music
1) You are free to like classic rock as much as you want. However, when it comes to CCM, you are required to find the most obscure band or artist. You are then to claim that they are good enough to herald the second coming of Christ through music. While you cannot use "corporate" or "sell-out" in a Christian environment, feel free to use "not as spiritually motivating" or "doesn't speaks to me" to describe anyone who expresses interest in any mainstream CCM artist. Also, be sure to treat them in a manner suggesting that maybe they just aren't in tune with the movings of The Holy Spirit as you due to their choice of music.
2) Picking friends with similar musical interests. In the name of "reaching out", you will find the most apathetic music listener possible. Find something secular, non-threatening, but somewhat obscure to express mutual interest in. Muse used to be a common one, but they have succeeded, and are now "corporate". Get together with your MIB (Mutual Interest Buddy), and talk about your mutual interests like 13 year old fangirls. Anyone who tries to tell you that the emperor has no clothes is to be looked upon dubiously.
Section 2: Technology
3) You are required to love Apple. Whether you claim to like it in an "ironic", fashion or decide to cross into serious fanboi territory, anything that has an "i" in front of it shall be fawned over like a newborn baby by her helicopter mother. If Apple has stated that they have better technology, claim it as fact. You are not required to have in-depth knowledge of the actual functional differences, but rather, parrot Apple's, and Steve Jobs' addresses and press releases like a mother robin puking up a meal for its offspring. His word is to be treated as god-breathed. If anyone comes up with good reasons as to why a non-Apple product is better, you are required to say that you feel it is easier to use, regardless of having actually used a competitor's product. In that way, you never have to admit that a non-Apple product is superior, and ass-raping your wallet. Which leads us to:
4) Outsourcing technological efforts. As a pastor, you are to be busy hanging out in your local coffee shop (preferred) or Starbucks (just to be ironic), "working on your message". Due to spending all your time coming up with cool promotional materials for your pet church outing, you may need to outsource some of the technological needs of the church to some of the parishioners. If nobody springs to mind, you can give it to the people that know more about what you need, but hamstring their efforts until one of your buddies can give you the solution that you want. The solution needs to either be stuck in your outdated and obscure technological experience to avoid having to learn anything new, or be overpriced to ensure that it coddles your personal preferences in layout. Be sure to not accept a solution because the obscure product you were using before had an on-screen ruler, or some such small-time issue. Remember, the focus here is not learning something new; rather, it needs to cater to your whims, obsolescence and compatibility with the outside world be damned. Actual functionality and security need not be actual concerns. If you are technologically inept, your poker buddy should be able to run it, and should oversee its rollout. It doesn't matter if all of the people that are technological professionals try to tell you that your solution is insecure/behind the times/overly expensive. You are the pastor, the shepard of this flock. You cannot let any aspect of your church to not involve your pet technology. Minus points if it involves a non-Apple solution.
Section 3: Personal interaction
5) As a pastor, you need to have favorite parishioners. You are to claim to be almost eternally busy, except for your favorite parishioners. Feel free to remark on all the cool stuff the two of you did during the week on Sunday while talking in a group with others that would like to spend time with you. But reiterate the fact that you are waaay too busy to spend time with anyone. Repeat every Sunday.
6) Business corollary: If someone of some importance is in attendance at your church, they get automatic access because, hey, it's someone important.
Section 4: Spiritual-sounding guilt == free work
7) When it comes to helping out around the church, there are those that will genuinely help out with the church. You can accurately call these people "suckers". They will help you doing the same menial job through thick and thin. Even though you know they are proving themselves loyal to work at more interesting volunteer work, make sure you never give them something more important to do, as it will take away from their being low man on the totem pole. Because, hey, if they were capable of doing a better job, they would be, right? After they have proved themselves faithful at doing the same crappy job for several months/years, and even after having filled in on an emergency basis for a higher-up volunteer position they are hoping to do regularly, it is your job to make sure that they stay doing the menial work. Wait for someone to join up that can fulfill the more advanced position. Make sure it is someone cool enough to be your poker buddy. If that isn't happening, get your non-Christian buddy to become a marginal Christian, or even hire someone from the outside on staff to fill in said position. Dashing the hopes of the faithful is a good way of making sure that they learn humility before God. Or something like that.
8) Innovating church functionality. If someone inside the church has a better way of doing something, by all means, hear them out. After you are done talking with them, call your poker buddy again. Try to remember the gist of what the original person suggested. Remembering important details is actually unimportant. Because you have heard this good idea, conveying that good idea to your poker buddy, and coming up with a solution between the two of you will automatically be a better solution. If need be, make your poker buddy an elder. That automatically trumps any proposed solution suggested by the hoi polloi. You can also claim that "well, that decision was made involving the church elders." This overspiritualization of the matter will make people who take their faith seriously to have no recourse.
9) People who are de-volunteering. If someone who has been volunteering for a period of time declines, for whatever reason (like they need to do anything outside of YOUR church!), be sure to guilt them into coming back. Use phrases like, "shepard/servant's heart", "doing God's work", etc. Remember, to people that place God as the center of their life, spiritualizing their toil at your church is a great way to lock them into doing work for close to free.
If you follow these steps, I'm sure you'll have a successful slave-based church where production is high, you are cool, and free to do whatever you want.
If you feel like any of this is leveled at you personally, I'd suggest you ask yourself why you feel pangs of guilt over this. You might discover some hidden points of pride that might be hindering you and your church spiritually.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Dodge Duck Dip Dive Dodge...
Note: This is an old post. The argument referenced in this post is LONG since gone.
I *hated* my Pierce College English teacher. If you ever come across someone there named Mrs. Tierney, please feel free to say I called her a tree-hugging hippy. Her emesis-inducing postulation that nature was infinitely wiser than humans made me grab for the nearest container. Truly a horrible way to start my college education. And yet, some of the things we read in Walden continue to stick with me, no matter how hard I try to beat it out of me. And here we go:
"The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation."
Some background: In High School youth group (High Impact at COTW), there was a LOT of pressure to fit kids into the ministry somehow. Those that made the decision were almost deified in the youth group. My gifts did not lend themselves to evangelism at all. The feeling was that if you were not planning on being a youth pastor or starting a church to convert the penguins, you were deficient in some fashion.
So, my sense of humor took a very attacking tone. I didn't know why at the time, but I was angry at everyone for making me feel excluded because I intended to be an engineer when they felt that anyone of any intellectual capacity should be going to LIFE, APU, etc.
In 10th grade, Rock Solid was asked to provide the Worship team at Camp Cedar Crest. While up there, I was very clearly directed to examine the hurt I was inflicting people with my pointed sense of humor.
After I returned, for a while, I had to humble myself, and actively seek out people I knew I had offended, and ask their forgiveness. It was a tough thing to do, but I discovered that I didn't want to be that person again.
My Senior year, while at another camp, for the only time in my life thus far, I honestly feel like I heard distinctly from God. It was a confirmation that I was not intended for the ministry at all. The release from bondage that I felt was so extreme that for the first time, I actually thought that God's plan for my life might include using the talents that he had given me.
This included my sense of humor. My earlier experience had shown me that using my outgoing sense of humor to hurt people is a path I never want to go down again. However, my experience Senior Year showed me that God gives us our personalities, desires, and strengths for a reason.
Fast Forward to about five years ago. I was new in town, and, as I've said in previous posts, the people here in Santa Barbara are very close-knit, and I was coming in as an outsider. My lack of social interaction caused me to literally go to bed crying myself to sleep some nights. I knew that I thrived on social interaction.
My former roommate Paul Laufer put it very succinctly, but I'll have to paraphrase: "Joe is, at all times, unabashedly Joe."
I love to include people.
I love to mix people from various facets of my life and see if anything gels.
I love saying what everyone is dying to, but can't bring themselves to say.
I love releasing the tension in a room by talking about what everyone is thinking about.
I love to make people laugh.
To that end, I've found that the best fit for my sense of humor and personality, besides being pointed at someone, is to bring the surreal and unexpected into a given situation. I imagine that strangers walk away from a chance encounter with me going "WTF was that?" Not in a bad way, mind you, just with a chuckle and a shake of the head.
And my fearlessness to be in a difficult social situation, whether at the center of attention, for bemusement/possible scorn, or to launch into the unknown, has served me well.
I've gotten up in meetings and asked difficult questions that everyone wanted to know, but were all too afraid to ask.
While working for the Navy, during a crowded lunch room during a three-day meeting, I asked if I could sit at a table with two gentleman I didn't recognize. My Team Lead informed me shortly after that the two gentlemen were the Program director for Land Attack (PMS 529) and a one-star admiral (to be fair, the admiral was in civilian clothes). We had a good lunch, despite my Team Lead sweating bullets three tables away. (He thought I was going to whip out my thoroughly tasteless Helen Keller Jokes.)
The Walden quote from above has gotten me thinking about marriages. It's been said that women enter into marriage hoping their men will change, whereas men enter into it hoping the women do not.
There is a very (unhealthy) stereotype in most churches that the women will eventually "domesticate" their partner, and mold their men into being more like them. This can be seen in various cute quips and jokes that go back and forth, remarking on the establishment of women as the puppet master of the husband.
For the most part, it is only humor.
However, there are those marriages where the husband, in his efforts to appease his wife, has given up all vestiges of having anything he finds interesting. The ironic part is, in most cases, the wife is still not happy with him; now he's boring.
During a particularly dry point in my dating career, my good friends Jeff and Sarah loaned me a collection of pastor's take on the initiation and continued success of healthy marriages.
Surprisingly, it didn't contain the expected recurring theme of: "whatever the wife says goes." Most of them discussed the distinction between compromise versus collapse when it came to concessions when dealing with conflict; the need to provide the other person with boundaries to respect, as opposed to being a shapeless mass of goo. Being who you are, and yet supporting the other person.
I came to the realization that with my first girlfriend, in my eagerness to be supportive, I neglected to give her anything she could respect. My newfound realization to be true to who I was fit well with my earlier resistance to High Impact's pressure to force people into the ministry.
Let's go back a three and a half years ago. I was seeing this young lady, who, while a lovely girl, was exceedingly quiet.
Any conflict we had she would internalize, and she thought she should take any trampling of her personality as her burden to bear. I felt like I was dating someone that I could accidentally hurt to excess, and she would never let me know.
I came away from that relationship with a newfound respect for the verse "like iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another".
Not to say that she wasn't capable of it, but I doubted that I would ever be able to sharpen her without absolutely breaking her spirit, and I didn't think she would be able to correct me unless I made her so mad she couldn't see straight. It wasn't healthy.
This got me to thinking about the verse again, and how it might be likened to sparring partners (don't worry Petrie family, I'm not advocating any actual violence). But sparring partners are used to toughen up a competitor, but they are matched up by weight divisions.
You wouldn't take a heavyweight sparring partner and match them with a lightweight fighter.
In the same fashion, I know I need someone who can let me know when I've hurt them, and isn't afraid to tell me how they feel about it.
So why do we have all these disparate parts of my life in one post? Why post all this internal monologue concerning things that people could very well not care about?
Tabitha and I had a rough fight last night. It seemed small enough, but I didn't realize the full implications, or why it affected me so much until I had a chance to think about it.
The long and short of it had to deal with two situations in close proximity to each other. One of which I was being my loud self, and she tried to reel me in. The second dealt with a drive from LA to SB in which literally nothing was said.
I love being loud, happy, inviting, surreal, and sometimes embarrassing. It's who I am, and, unless I want to live a "life of quiet desperation", it's who I need to be.
I could quash that side of me, but that would leave her little to respect if the result of any argument was the removal of large sections of my personality. My experiences at High Impact showed me the importance of being myself, and the passive/aggressive nature that I exhibit when I'm being railroaded into something.
In the same light, I also don't want to quash her. I want to hear from her when she's upset. I want her to tell me when I've made her mad.
The entire car ride over, I was giving her the chance to speak when she was ready. I had told her what I thought, and didn't want to railroad the conversation.
Afterward, I realized I was still upset because I HAD wanted her to speak up. I had already told her how I felt, and I wanted her to feel confident and safe enough to let me know how she felt.
The whole reason I fell in love with Tabitha is because of her ability to tell an inappropriate joke. I love her confidence, I love her enthusiasm, I love her ability to point out when I've messed up, and to tell me how she feels. My frustration is in her reluctance to bring it out fully. My hope and desire is for her to feel safe enough to be able to express the amazing person she is with full confidence of my support in any situation.
I want to go through life together. I want her to be just as excited and confident about life as I hope to be. I want her to allow me to fuel her interests as much as she encourages me about mine. I want to be weird together. To have a passion and love of life that is infectious to all we touch.
The title of the post is a quote from the movie "Dodgeball". I include it because it because there is another quote that I think is relevant to this situation: "You gotta grab life by the haunches and hump it into submission!"
I *hated* my Pierce College English teacher. If you ever come across someone there named Mrs. Tierney, please feel free to say I called her a tree-hugging hippy. Her emesis-inducing postulation that nature was infinitely wiser than humans made me grab for the nearest container. Truly a horrible way to start my college education. And yet, some of the things we read in Walden continue to stick with me, no matter how hard I try to beat it out of me. And here we go:
"The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation."
Some background: In High School youth group (High Impact at COTW), there was a LOT of pressure to fit kids into the ministry somehow. Those that made the decision were almost deified in the youth group. My gifts did not lend themselves to evangelism at all. The feeling was that if you were not planning on being a youth pastor or starting a church to convert the penguins, you were deficient in some fashion.
So, my sense of humor took a very attacking tone. I didn't know why at the time, but I was angry at everyone for making me feel excluded because I intended to be an engineer when they felt that anyone of any intellectual capacity should be going to LIFE, APU, etc.
In 10th grade, Rock Solid was asked to provide the Worship team at Camp Cedar Crest. While up there, I was very clearly directed to examine the hurt I was inflicting people with my pointed sense of humor.
After I returned, for a while, I had to humble myself, and actively seek out people I knew I had offended, and ask their forgiveness. It was a tough thing to do, but I discovered that I didn't want to be that person again.
My Senior year, while at another camp, for the only time in my life thus far, I honestly feel like I heard distinctly from God. It was a confirmation that I was not intended for the ministry at all. The release from bondage that I felt was so extreme that for the first time, I actually thought that God's plan for my life might include using the talents that he had given me.
This included my sense of humor. My earlier experience had shown me that using my outgoing sense of humor to hurt people is a path I never want to go down again. However, my experience Senior Year showed me that God gives us our personalities, desires, and strengths for a reason.
Fast Forward to about five years ago. I was new in town, and, as I've said in previous posts, the people here in Santa Barbara are very close-knit, and I was coming in as an outsider. My lack of social interaction caused me to literally go to bed crying myself to sleep some nights. I knew that I thrived on social interaction.
My former roommate Paul Laufer put it very succinctly, but I'll have to paraphrase: "Joe is, at all times, unabashedly Joe."
I love to include people.
I love to mix people from various facets of my life and see if anything gels.
I love saying what everyone is dying to, but can't bring themselves to say.
I love releasing the tension in a room by talking about what everyone is thinking about.
I love to make people laugh.
To that end, I've found that the best fit for my sense of humor and personality, besides being pointed at someone, is to bring the surreal and unexpected into a given situation. I imagine that strangers walk away from a chance encounter with me going "WTF was that?" Not in a bad way, mind you, just with a chuckle and a shake of the head.
And my fearlessness to be in a difficult social situation, whether at the center of attention, for bemusement/possible scorn, or to launch into the unknown, has served me well.
I've gotten up in meetings and asked difficult questions that everyone wanted to know, but were all too afraid to ask.
While working for the Navy, during a crowded lunch room during a three-day meeting, I asked if I could sit at a table with two gentleman I didn't recognize. My Team Lead informed me shortly after that the two gentlemen were the Program director for Land Attack (PMS 529) and a one-star admiral (to be fair, the admiral was in civilian clothes). We had a good lunch, despite my Team Lead sweating bullets three tables away. (He thought I was going to whip out my thoroughly tasteless Helen Keller Jokes.)
The Walden quote from above has gotten me thinking about marriages. It's been said that women enter into marriage hoping their men will change, whereas men enter into it hoping the women do not.
There is a very (unhealthy) stereotype in most churches that the women will eventually "domesticate" their partner, and mold their men into being more like them. This can be seen in various cute quips and jokes that go back and forth, remarking on the establishment of women as the puppet master of the husband.
For the most part, it is only humor.
However, there are those marriages where the husband, in his efforts to appease his wife, has given up all vestiges of having anything he finds interesting. The ironic part is, in most cases, the wife is still not happy with him; now he's boring.
During a particularly dry point in my dating career, my good friends Jeff and Sarah loaned me a collection of pastor's take on the initiation and continued success of healthy marriages.
Surprisingly, it didn't contain the expected recurring theme of: "whatever the wife says goes." Most of them discussed the distinction between compromise versus collapse when it came to concessions when dealing with conflict; the need to provide the other person with boundaries to respect, as opposed to being a shapeless mass of goo. Being who you are, and yet supporting the other person.
I came to the realization that with my first girlfriend, in my eagerness to be supportive, I neglected to give her anything she could respect. My newfound realization to be true to who I was fit well with my earlier resistance to High Impact's pressure to force people into the ministry.
Let's go back a three and a half years ago. I was seeing this young lady, who, while a lovely girl, was exceedingly quiet.
Any conflict we had she would internalize, and she thought she should take any trampling of her personality as her burden to bear. I felt like I was dating someone that I could accidentally hurt to excess, and she would never let me know.
I came away from that relationship with a newfound respect for the verse "like iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another".
Not to say that she wasn't capable of it, but I doubted that I would ever be able to sharpen her without absolutely breaking her spirit, and I didn't think she would be able to correct me unless I made her so mad she couldn't see straight. It wasn't healthy.
This got me to thinking about the verse again, and how it might be likened to sparring partners (don't worry Petrie family, I'm not advocating any actual violence). But sparring partners are used to toughen up a competitor, but they are matched up by weight divisions.
You wouldn't take a heavyweight sparring partner and match them with a lightweight fighter.
In the same fashion, I know I need someone who can let me know when I've hurt them, and isn't afraid to tell me how they feel about it.
So why do we have all these disparate parts of my life in one post? Why post all this internal monologue concerning things that people could very well not care about?
Tabitha and I had a rough fight last night. It seemed small enough, but I didn't realize the full implications, or why it affected me so much until I had a chance to think about it.
The long and short of it had to deal with two situations in close proximity to each other. One of which I was being my loud self, and she tried to reel me in. The second dealt with a drive from LA to SB in which literally nothing was said.
I love being loud, happy, inviting, surreal, and sometimes embarrassing. It's who I am, and, unless I want to live a "life of quiet desperation", it's who I need to be.
I could quash that side of me, but that would leave her little to respect if the result of any argument was the removal of large sections of my personality. My experiences at High Impact showed me the importance of being myself, and the passive/aggressive nature that I exhibit when I'm being railroaded into something.
In the same light, I also don't want to quash her. I want to hear from her when she's upset. I want her to tell me when I've made her mad.
The entire car ride over, I was giving her the chance to speak when she was ready. I had told her what I thought, and didn't want to railroad the conversation.
Afterward, I realized I was still upset because I HAD wanted her to speak up. I had already told her how I felt, and I wanted her to feel confident and safe enough to let me know how she felt.
The whole reason I fell in love with Tabitha is because of her ability to tell an inappropriate joke. I love her confidence, I love her enthusiasm, I love her ability to point out when I've messed up, and to tell me how she feels. My frustration is in her reluctance to bring it out fully. My hope and desire is for her to feel safe enough to be able to express the amazing person she is with full confidence of my support in any situation.
I want to go through life together. I want her to be just as excited and confident about life as I hope to be. I want her to allow me to fuel her interests as much as she encourages me about mine. I want to be weird together. To have a passion and love of life that is infectious to all we touch.
The title of the post is a quote from the movie "Dodgeball". I include it because it because there is another quote that I think is relevant to this situation: "You gotta grab life by the haunches and hump it into submission!"
Me and my brother (ok, ok mom, my brother and me)...
So on Saturday I had to drop Tabitha off at her Choir rehearsal (The APU 30th anniversary UCO concert). We hadn't planned ahead too well, and, as Tabitha hasn't been doing good with staying awake late at night while driving, suddenly realized that I would either have to drive to Azusa and back to drop her off, then drive to Azusa and back to pick her up, or stay in the area.
On such short notice, all of my friends in the area had plans (how dare they!). So, in a last ditch effort, I called my uber-social brother John. As expected, he had plans with the Orange County Wine Society. However, after a brief pause, he said he would find out if there would be space for me to join him.
About 20 minutes, he texted me and said I was cleared to come on down one way or the other.
Let me back up a long bit:
Growing up, my brother and I have NEVER got along. I mean like...ever. Everything was a battleground: bicycles, nintendo, nintendo controllers, computer time, model trains, legos, imaginary friends (mine could TOTALLY beat up his...), etc.
I think the only time we ever got along was when I got my wisdom teeth removed, and was sedated for half a day. However, I do suspiciously recall it was about that time my favorite monopoly piece went missing.....
It got so bad that one of John's close friends at the time, a very nice kid from a very nice household, often went home crying due to the viciousness of our arguments.
While I was in Jr. College, and working for the Navy, we shared a roof again, and, let me tell you, it got baaaad.
Yet through it all, there are certain snap points that I look at where, despite the hostilities we were currently engaged in, I was extremely proud of my brother, or hurt for him beyond words.
One time we were with CPAC at the beach. John was in training for Annapolis entrance (which he SHOULD have gotten into...don't get me started). My good friend Janelly, someone I'd known for a year and a half at that point, was a paragon of athletic excellence (or so I thought), said, "Hey, I'm going to go for a run down the beach." John said, "I'll join you", loaded up his camelbak, and they took off. I goofed around in the water for a bit, then came back to the towels, only to find Janelly arriving, walking somewhat slowly. "Where's John?" I asked. She replied "I couldn't keep up with him." My jaw hit the floor. Janelly is the kind of person that you envision running marathons casually. John ran in about 30 minutes later. (My brother kicks ass. )
As stated, my brother attempted to get into Annapolis. For those of you who don't know, this is a very big deal. The physical requirements, along with letters of recommendation and community service are extremely stringent. I remember swing dancing at Java the Hutt on campus at Cal Poly Pomona when I got the call that John hadn't made it. I collapsed onto a bench, trying to fight back tears.
Since then, my brother has come back with a vengeance. John has a major gift in business: my brother is one of those people that can sell ice to Eskimos. Going through his house, he can casually rattle off the number of times he has gotten a company to either spend their money to make him happy, or knock off a few hundred/thousand on a sale. He's has a wonderful life for himself in Orange County, married a lovely young lady, has a pudgy cat, a career that is rocketing higher and higher, and a wine cellar that is not to be believed. (Seriously...300 bottles of red, 150 white, and a liquor collection that rivals most bars in quantity, and beats most in quality.)
It was an interesting day when I discovered that I could hang out with my brother without worrying about whether or not we might be getting into another fight.
However, driving down to Costa Mesa Saturday night, realizing that John had turned his remarkable charm to make space for me, I realized that the nature of our relationship has changed. It's no longer a case of not dreading being around him; I'm now looking forward to spending time with him.
On such short notice, all of my friends in the area had plans (how dare they!). So, in a last ditch effort, I called my uber-social brother John. As expected, he had plans with the Orange County Wine Society. However, after a brief pause, he said he would find out if there would be space for me to join him.
About 20 minutes, he texted me and said I was cleared to come on down one way or the other.
Let me back up a long bit:
Growing up, my brother and I have NEVER got along. I mean like...ever. Everything was a battleground: bicycles, nintendo, nintendo controllers, computer time, model trains, legos, imaginary friends (mine could TOTALLY beat up his...), etc.
I think the only time we ever got along was when I got my wisdom teeth removed, and was sedated for half a day. However, I do suspiciously recall it was about that time my favorite monopoly piece went missing.....
It got so bad that one of John's close friends at the time, a very nice kid from a very nice household, often went home crying due to the viciousness of our arguments.
While I was in Jr. College, and working for the Navy, we shared a roof again, and, let me tell you, it got baaaad.
Yet through it all, there are certain snap points that I look at where, despite the hostilities we were currently engaged in, I was extremely proud of my brother, or hurt for him beyond words.
One time we were with CPAC at the beach. John was in training for Annapolis entrance (which he SHOULD have gotten into...don't get me started). My good friend Janelly, someone I'd known for a year and a half at that point, was a paragon of athletic excellence (or so I thought), said, "Hey, I'm going to go for a run down the beach." John said, "I'll join you", loaded up his camelbak, and they took off. I goofed around in the water for a bit, then came back to the towels, only to find Janelly arriving, walking somewhat slowly. "Where's John?" I asked. She replied "I couldn't keep up with him." My jaw hit the floor. Janelly is the kind of person that you envision running marathons casually. John ran in about 30 minutes later. (My brother kicks ass. )
As stated, my brother attempted to get into Annapolis. For those of you who don't know, this is a very big deal. The physical requirements, along with letters of recommendation and community service are extremely stringent. I remember swing dancing at Java the Hutt on campus at Cal Poly Pomona when I got the call that John hadn't made it. I collapsed onto a bench, trying to fight back tears.
Since then, my brother has come back with a vengeance. John has a major gift in business: my brother is one of those people that can sell ice to Eskimos. Going through his house, he can casually rattle off the number of times he has gotten a company to either spend their money to make him happy, or knock off a few hundred/thousand on a sale. He's has a wonderful life for himself in Orange County, married a lovely young lady, has a pudgy cat, a career that is rocketing higher and higher, and a wine cellar that is not to be believed. (Seriously...300 bottles of red, 150 white, and a liquor collection that rivals most bars in quantity, and beats most in quality.)
It was an interesting day when I discovered that I could hang out with my brother without worrying about whether or not we might be getting into another fight.
However, driving down to Costa Mesa Saturday night, realizing that John had turned his remarkable charm to make space for me, I realized that the nature of our relationship has changed. It's no longer a case of not dreading being around him; I'm now looking forward to spending time with him.
Thursday, April 01, 2010
Wow...I bought the car
I found this in drafts...interesting to look back at it now:
While Tab sleeps, I feel the need to put down things on e-paper for future remembrance...only because I've gone through so much the last few days...
So...firstly, I'm married! Let's start there.
When I worked at Blue Cross of California, it was one of the most fun jobs I've ever had. I started out doing trouble tickets, but ended up doing PC rollouts (I.E. upgrading entire departments with new PCs). There was a lot of goofing off in the lab, but we got sh*t done, and done well. However, it always started with Ignacio or one of the other senior techs going up to the department manager, meeting with him, arranging the walkthrough, noting any PCs of note, etc.
It kept us working, allowed us to interface with the customer, then we would retreat back into our little nerdery, work on the PCs, and resurface again to roll the PCs out. It all worked very smooth.
One day, Ignacio was tied up with meetings all day long, so he pointed to my good friend Vince and me and said, "Vince, I need you to take the entire Accounting rollout, I'm too busy. Joe, you are his backup."
There was a weird moment where, for as well as I knew my job inside and out, and as much as I had prepared, I thought, "We're not ready. We're just the kids downstairs goofing off. What do we know about this?"
I've had the same feelings both times I bought a car: my Purple-Dirtmobile-of-Death (AKA my Plum colored '97 Saturn SC2), and my current '99 Ford Mustang (No name yet).
Both times, I spent weeks and weeks looking for cars, researching all the finds I could find in my price range, carefully weighing each decision, and finally going ahead with the purchase.
Each time, even though I know I've made the right choice, and the car was a good buy, there was a sudden moment of panic, thinking, "Holy crap! I just spent $6000/$8000! Was this a good buy? Can I maintain this car as it is needed? I've never had a V6 before, is there something I need to know about maintaining it? Would it work better if I put in premium gas?, etc. etc."
Now, I'm married. I've waited my entire life for someone who is Christian/funny/witty/goofy/fun/sane/single, and now I've married her.
Driving off from the wedding, I was elated, but I got that feeling again. The thought of "I'm just a kid! (I'm not anymore, but this is freakout talking) What happens when we get into a fight? What happens if one of us gets sick? Will she still love me if I'm involved in some horribly disfiguring windmill accident? How can I possibly keep her entertained for a lifetime? I've done good so far in a year and a half, but what happens if we reach 20 years and we have nothing interesting left to talk about? etc. etc." But you learn with the car. It's various quirks and intricacies, how it handles, where you need to baby it, etc. After awhile, you and the car work so well, you can't remember a time you were with any other cars. The memories you form in that car you will tell. You just have to remember that it requires continual maintenance and care. What a fun, interesting time to be alive!
While Tab sleeps, I feel the need to put down things on e-paper for future remembrance...only because I've gone through so much the last few days...
So...firstly, I'm married! Let's start there.
When I worked at Blue Cross of California, it was one of the most fun jobs I've ever had. I started out doing trouble tickets, but ended up doing PC rollouts (I.E. upgrading entire departments with new PCs). There was a lot of goofing off in the lab, but we got sh*t done, and done well. However, it always started with Ignacio or one of the other senior techs going up to the department manager, meeting with him, arranging the walkthrough, noting any PCs of note, etc.
It kept us working, allowed us to interface with the customer, then we would retreat back into our little nerdery, work on the PCs, and resurface again to roll the PCs out. It all worked very smooth.
One day, Ignacio was tied up with meetings all day long, so he pointed to my good friend Vince and me and said, "Vince, I need you to take the entire Accounting rollout, I'm too busy. Joe, you are his backup."
There was a weird moment where, for as well as I knew my job inside and out, and as much as I had prepared, I thought, "We're not ready. We're just the kids downstairs goofing off. What do we know about this?"
I've had the same feelings both times I bought a car: my Purple-Dirtmobile-of-Death (AKA my Plum colored '97 Saturn SC2), and my current '99 Ford Mustang (No name yet).
Both times, I spent weeks and weeks looking for cars, researching all the finds I could find in my price range, carefully weighing each decision, and finally going ahead with the purchase.
Each time, even though I know I've made the right choice, and the car was a good buy, there was a sudden moment of panic, thinking, "Holy crap! I just spent $6000/$8000! Was this a good buy? Can I maintain this car as it is needed? I've never had a V6 before, is there something I need to know about maintaining it? Would it work better if I put in premium gas?, etc. etc."
Now, I'm married. I've waited my entire life for someone who is Christian/funny/witty/goofy/fun/sane/single, and now I've married her.
Driving off from the wedding, I was elated, but I got that feeling again. The thought of "I'm just a kid! (I'm not anymore, but this is freakout talking) What happens when we get into a fight? What happens if one of us gets sick? Will she still love me if I'm involved in some horribly disfiguring windmill accident? How can I possibly keep her entertained for a lifetime? I've done good so far in a year and a half, but what happens if we reach 20 years and we have nothing interesting left to talk about? etc. etc." But you learn with the car. It's various quirks and intricacies, how it handles, where you need to baby it, etc. After awhile, you and the car work so well, you can't remember a time you were with any other cars. The memories you form in that car you will tell. You just have to remember that it requires continual maintenance and care. What a fun, interesting time to be alive!
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Now I know why Assassin's Creed has "Ass" twice in the title.
Ok, I'm a little behind the curve when it comes to video games now that I am a family man.
So, I waited until Assassin's Creed was $10 on Steam, then purchased it just to see what all the fuss is about. So now it's 1 in the morning, I finally finished it, and I am *PISSED OFF*
*breaths*. This game is one of the most overhyped pieces of donkey dung I have ever had the mis-fortune of playing. While beautiful to look at, and the crowd mechanics were interesting, the gameplay itself was *SO* *DAMN* *REPETITIVE*.
Lemme set the scene for you: You are an Assassin in the middle ages in $SOMEWHERE_IN_ISRAEL. Damascus, Acre, Jerusalem (and some I'm forgetting) are now only 2 miles away from each other.
Your master assigns you a target in a section of one of the cities. You go there, play the same 5 mini-games, each time gaining information on your target. When you have beaten a sufficient number of the mini-games, you are allowed to take out the target.
Lather, Rinse, Repeat.
And you do this 9 times.
Oh, and Sam Fisher is an Assassin. This guy is as obvious as Liberace in a Baptist Church.
Let me tell you what I mean by that: When the time finally comes for your assassination attempt, you can try to be sneaky and take the guy out stealthy and all quiet-like, but as soon as you do, even if you did it out of sight of the guards, the entire city is alerted to your presence, and you have to beat off or outrun/hide from a gajillion guards who have been alerted to your presence. Which doesn't make you an assassin really.
Or not a good one, anyway.
Which would make for an interesting game mechanic: Short-bus school of assassins. But I digress...
There is some attempt at stealth during the mini-games, which is ok, I guess, but the guards forget where you are the nano-second you jump into conveniently placed haypiles or roof garden, despite the fact that you just ran all of their best friends through in gruesome fashion 10 seconds ago. No, no, They simply forget about you. But can somehow remember who you are if you run through an area where you killed someone previously, even if by "previously", we mean 20 minutes ago.
There are two absolutely ludicrous "Nuking the fridge" mechanics about the game: Scholars and "Leaps of Faith"
If a group of white hooded monks should walk by, and you are being chased by the guard, you can elect to follow them, adopting a similar stance and shuffle, and the guards are fooled by this. Despite the fact that your sword, throwing knives, and gauntlets are plainly visible. It's like they all got injected with Stupidol.
The second involves "View Points" where you can gain reconnaissance of a given area to reveal the mini-games necessary to get to the assassination attempt. This involves free-climbing to the top of a very very very high building (in some cases, ~10 stories in in-game height). After reconing the area, you are provided a ledge to jump off of, as actually climbing down could be somewhat tedious. Below these ledges are haypiles.
So, 10 story drop.
Onto a haypile that is perhaps 3 feet tall.
What makes it odd is the fact that they got the motion of actually falling down pat. If any of you have ever fallen out of a tree, off of a garage, etc., when you are falling, you experience motion blur, acceleration, etc.
Ubisoft nailed the sensation of falling from a great height. So when you see that ground coming at you after a 10 story climb, you are thinking, "wow, I'm about to make a very large stain, first in my pants, then on the ground" And then you are stopped by three feet of hay. I laughed the first time it happened, and had to show Tab, who, even with a limited grasp of deceleration times vs. structural integrity, realized that it was absolutely ridiculous.
And the fighting. Oh lordy, the fighting. They meant to have all sorts of moves and counter moves, but after the first level, you gain a "block, counter-attack" move that you pretty much use for the rest of the game. Why? 'cause it's all that is needed. I was literally surrounded by 15 guys at one point, and was able to fend them all off using that one move.
What makes it bad is that it suffers from "Final Fight-itis": the bad guys are too polite, and by that, I mean that only one will ever attack you at a time. Ubi tried to mix it up by having a second guy attack you while you are assaulting another, but they neutralized that threat by allowing you to break off your assault and immediately "defend, counterattack" the second.
They will also wait until you complete an absolutely awesome looking finishing move on one of their Guard buddies before they will even think of attacking you.
Complete waste of time. I paid $10 for a pretty world, an interesting crowd mechanic, and an effective marketing campaign. Ugh. De-installing this crap right now. On to Mirror's Edge!
So, I waited until Assassin's Creed was $10 on Steam, then purchased it just to see what all the fuss is about. So now it's 1 in the morning, I finally finished it, and I am *PISSED OFF*
*breaths*. This game is one of the most overhyped pieces of donkey dung I have ever had the mis-fortune of playing. While beautiful to look at, and the crowd mechanics were interesting, the gameplay itself was *SO* *DAMN* *REPETITIVE*.
Lemme set the scene for you: You are an Assassin in the middle ages in $SOMEWHERE_IN_ISRAEL. Damascus, Acre, Jerusalem (and some I'm forgetting) are now only 2 miles away from each other.
Your master assigns you a target in a section of one of the cities. You go there, play the same 5 mini-games, each time gaining information on your target. When you have beaten a sufficient number of the mini-games, you are allowed to take out the target.
Lather, Rinse, Repeat.
And you do this 9 times.
Oh, and Sam Fisher is an Assassin. This guy is as obvious as Liberace in a Baptist Church.
Let me tell you what I mean by that: When the time finally comes for your assassination attempt, you can try to be sneaky and take the guy out stealthy and all quiet-like, but as soon as you do, even if you did it out of sight of the guards, the entire city is alerted to your presence, and you have to beat off or outrun/hide from a gajillion guards who have been alerted to your presence. Which doesn't make you an assassin really.
Or not a good one, anyway.
Which would make for an interesting game mechanic: Short-bus school of assassins. But I digress...
There is some attempt at stealth during the mini-games, which is ok, I guess, but the guards forget where you are the nano-second you jump into conveniently placed haypiles or roof garden, despite the fact that you just ran all of their best friends through in gruesome fashion 10 seconds ago. No, no, They simply forget about you. But can somehow remember who you are if you run through an area where you killed someone previously, even if by "previously", we mean 20 minutes ago.
There are two absolutely ludicrous "Nuking the fridge" mechanics about the game: Scholars and "Leaps of Faith"
If a group of white hooded monks should walk by, and you are being chased by the guard, you can elect to follow them, adopting a similar stance and shuffle, and the guards are fooled by this. Despite the fact that your sword, throwing knives, and gauntlets are plainly visible. It's like they all got injected with Stupidol.
The second involves "View Points" where you can gain reconnaissance of a given area to reveal the mini-games necessary to get to the assassination attempt. This involves free-climbing to the top of a very very very high building (in some cases, ~10 stories in in-game height). After reconing the area, you are provided a ledge to jump off of, as actually climbing down could be somewhat tedious. Below these ledges are haypiles.
So, 10 story drop.
Onto a haypile that is perhaps 3 feet tall.
What makes it odd is the fact that they got the motion of actually falling down pat. If any of you have ever fallen out of a tree, off of a garage, etc., when you are falling, you experience motion blur, acceleration, etc.
Ubisoft nailed the sensation of falling from a great height. So when you see that ground coming at you after a 10 story climb, you are thinking, "wow, I'm about to make a very large stain, first in my pants, then on the ground" And then you are stopped by three feet of hay. I laughed the first time it happened, and had to show Tab, who, even with a limited grasp of deceleration times vs. structural integrity, realized that it was absolutely ridiculous.
And the fighting. Oh lordy, the fighting. They meant to have all sorts of moves and counter moves, but after the first level, you gain a "block, counter-attack" move that you pretty much use for the rest of the game. Why? 'cause it's all that is needed. I was literally surrounded by 15 guys at one point, and was able to fend them all off using that one move.
What makes it bad is that it suffers from "Final Fight-itis": the bad guys are too polite, and by that, I mean that only one will ever attack you at a time. Ubi tried to mix it up by having a second guy attack you while you are assaulting another, but they neutralized that threat by allowing you to break off your assault and immediately "defend, counterattack" the second.
They will also wait until you complete an absolutely awesome looking finishing move on one of their Guard buddies before they will even think of attacking you.
Complete waste of time. I paid $10 for a pretty world, an interesting crowd mechanic, and an effective marketing campaign. Ugh. De-installing this crap right now. On to Mirror's Edge!
Monday, November 09, 2009
Peace beyond understanding
Tab is really unhappy with her job right now, and it is putting strain on things. She warned me when we where dating that when things got rough, she tended to bolt.
In fact, it was a point of amazement for her when we had our fight and she treated it as a speed bump in a longer road.
Yesterday, we had a tense conversation that dealt with Tab's frustrations, as detailed here.
However, this morning, in spite of all the issues, I found myself amazed that I am her husband, and loving her for who she is.
No resolution to her stress, or the issues surrounding it.
We haven't yet addressed the issue that brought this out.
Weird.
In fact, it was a point of amazement for her when we had our fight and she treated it as a speed bump in a longer road.
Yesterday, we had a tense conversation that dealt with Tab's frustrations, as detailed here.
However, this morning, in spite of all the issues, I found myself amazed that I am her husband, and loving her for who she is.
No resolution to her stress, or the issues surrounding it.
We haven't yet addressed the issue that brought this out.
Weird.
Friday, September 18, 2009
The Health Care issue..
Once again, an online dispute has forced me to put into words how I feel about the current debate.
This time, it's health care.
To provide setup, the first claim was that Michael Moore's movie Sicko, claimed Cuba has wonderful health care. My response:
Then we got into a debate on health care in general:
This person then brought up the familiar "Health Care should be as basic a right as firefighters, police, libraries, etc.", which is a common argument. Here's how it went down:
Then there was the "I'm a Christian, it's all God's money, we should give it all to a government-run communal pot that claims it will help the poor" argument:
I accidentally didn't complete a thought that I will put down here:
This time, it's health care.
To provide setup, the first claim was that Michael Moore's movie Sicko, claimed Cuba has wonderful health care. My response:
It's propaganda. It's well documented. When the U.S. visits Cuba, they go to the clinic that Michael Moore showed. The average Cuban citizen has a much more dismal health care experience:
http://wizbangblog.com/content/2009/09/07/cubas-free-health-care.php
Then we got into a debate on health care in general:
It's not the government's job to met out health insurance any more than they should be handing out candy on corners for all kids...
All it takes is someone being competitive and offering a better solution.
When the government runs a place from stem to stern, this is what happens:...
The government should not be assisting anyone out of anything, save breaking up monopolies preventing barrier of entry for new businesses.
Health care is not a basic need. Air is a basic need. Food is a basic need. Water is a basic need.
Health insurance is a luxury. It's exactly what the name implies: insurance in the event of a health issue.
Life insurance is not mandatory, renters insurance is not mandatory, car insurance is only mandatory if you elect to drive....
In any case, the government, when left to run things, does not do a very good job. The Post Office, DMV, etc. should be enough proof.
Depending on the government for any aspect of your well-being or happiness is a recipe for disaster. The only thing the government has proved time and again that it can do well is blow things up, and waste money. And even then, it needs help to blow things up. I should know, I have worked as both a Federal Employee, and now as a Defense Contractor.
This person then brought up the familiar "Health Care should be as basic a right as firefighters, police, libraries, etc.", which is a common argument. Here's how it went down:
All those programs were sold to the American people, then left to rot. As a former Federal employee, I can tell you with absolute certainty that your money is being wasted.
What seems to be not understood is that the money for these programs was taken from the people that may or may not use it.
If you were earning twice what you are earning now, would you invest in health care for yourself and your family, or would you simply say, "hmm...my car is getting kind of old..."
People choose to invest in Health care for themselves or not.
There are low-cost clinics available in almost every town.
Emergency services are available everywhere.
Health care is available for those that choose to invest in it.
As for the other list of "necessities", they could all be improved by forcing them to compete with rival companies.
Do you think the cops would be beating people indifferently if they were paid by the number of convictions of the people they brought in?
All the examples you have given me are for "services" that are supposedly "free", but in actuality have been paid for by people who dare to try to excel and further themselves.
My friend has a saying, "Americans are born free, but taxed to death". (Ed. Thanks, Paul!)
As for the drug companies, if people cannot afford their products, they would be forced to lower the rates at which they sell it.
Ironically enough, the massive amounts of money that people pay into health insurance artificially props up the market so they can sell pharmaceuticals and emergency services at massively inflated prices.
And once again, I can say this with definity. I used to work at [A major US Health Care insurance provider]. Only 10% of the company is for dealing with medical issues. The other 90% is dealing with how to invest the truckloads of money that businesses and people pay them every month.
If people abandoned Health Care as an insurance, and dealt with it on a case by case basis, the price of health care would go down massively.
But we have been sold a bill of goods that health care is something we need to be making monthly investments in.
We are screaming to be taxed further, which is simply insane.
Think about this...what if, everyone could simply elect at tax time whether or not they wanted to fund things, and how much.
("Do you want to fund firefighters? police? Military? libraries? Pell Grants?")
No, nobody would volunteer. Why? Because it is YOUR MONEY. You earned it.
People are screaming for the government to save them as a substitute for taking care of the issue themselves.
If you feel strongly that you want to fund something on a monthly basis, set up a co-op with a doctor's office and your neighbors. Start the change now, but don't complain when EVERYBODY ELSE isn't funding something YOU want.
It really boils down to two schools of thought:
Should the federal government's role in the lives of Americans be to simply maintain the basics? (Military, Roads, and Business Regulation) This would allow people to venture out on their own, earn, and keep what they make. It puts the economic decisions of what to fund back into the hands of the people, and makes for a strong middle class that people can easily get into.
Or should the government be a "nanny" and provide for people from cradle to grave, punishing its most productive citizens to pay for services to the underperforming ones. At that point, the question becomes, "why work?" Everything is being handed to you simply by being in the US and breathing. California has had a long history of doing just that, and is paying for it, with businesses finding it is just too expensive to be in California, and moving to Nevada, Texas, and Arizona.
As for being in France and Norway, that's nice, but, last time I checked, they haven't had nearly the high innovation rate of the U.S., precisely because there is no increased incentive to be an entrepreneur.
In those two countries, the company is forced to pay massive amounts of taxes and benefits for the employees (health and otherwise). This, combined with the fact that if you employ anybody, it is EXCEEDINGLY difficult to fire them if they underperform, results in virtually no motivation for your employees to work hard or be clever.
When there is the possibility of massive reward, you will be more inclined to take more risk. If nothing is certain in terms of job, you will work hard to make sure you stand out and are rewarded for hard work. Increased taxing on those that work hard only leads to a nation of slackers, regardless of the perceived benefit for "all".
Then there was the "I'm a Christian, it's all God's money, we should give it all to a government-run communal pot that claims it will help the poor" argument:
I am a Christian, but I take comfort in the parable of the ten talents. God did not end the story with the last person getting bailed out. He called the lack of financial gain "wicked and lazy".
It is the job of CHRISTIANS to provide for the poor, the downtrodden, etc. It is not the job of governments. As we are not a country that has corporately put themselves in line with Christ, it is not right for us to demand Christian motivations out of the government. Remember the two heathens who tried to call out the demons in Christ's name? The demons laughed and beat them savagely.
http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Acts%2019:13-16&version=NIV
It is up to us as individuals to do what Christ would do. If we demand it from our government, we have replaced government for God.
I accidentally didn't complete a thought that I will put down here:
The sheer amount of new technologies that we have put forth from our efforts as entrepreneurs due to decreased taxing allows us the medical breakthroughs that we have today.
I agree there needs to be change. But, like I said before, it should take the form of business regulation, not taxing the productive members of society.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Environmentalism and Africa
I'm having a good-spirited debate with a friend of mine on facebook regarding the role of environmentalism in Africa. He has taken the side that we must do all we can to ensure that nothing the developing countries do will impact Africa, and that we must do all we can to ensure that we don't impact Africa with our environmental emissions.
He even brought "white guilt" into the equation with the line, "However, we also can't ignore the centuries of colonialism that has been a major contributor to African countries being in the position they are in now."
I don't think he is talking about setting up wind farms in our country because England took over large portions of Africa 130 years ago. I'm going to take a guess that he is thinking we should impose modern Environmental standards on today's Africa.
I take the tack that with Africa being largely free since the '60s, the best thing to do is offer goods and services, but withdraw from telling them how and where they should conduct their affairs. Let them use DDT to combat Malaria. Let them drill for oil using the methods they want. To do otherwise is to revert back to a "convert the heathen" approach used by colonialists years back.
It's not often I find an article that nails it on the head, but I found one here:
(The Independent Review, v. VIII, n.1, Summer 2003, ISSN 1086-1653, Copyright © 2003, pp. 65– 86.)
(See mom! I can do references!)
Later on, he talks about massive displacements of the indigenous people to make way for conservation parks. Ironically, most of these are on some of the most fertile ground that Africa has to offer. This is done to preserve these areas to bring in tourist dollars. People come in to experience "primeval Africa". Mostly westerners.
Turns out that the needs of the people are being marginalized due to the massive lobbying efforts from outside. By environmental groups. Western environmental groups.
The western world is starving Africa with its environmentalism practices, then making ourselves feel better by arranging aid. But hey, we get to feel better in the process. And isn't that the important part?
He even brought "white guilt" into the equation with the line, "However, we also can't ignore the centuries of colonialism that has been a major contributor to African countries being in the position they are in now."
I don't think he is talking about setting up wind farms in our country because England took over large portions of Africa 130 years ago. I'm going to take a guess that he is thinking we should impose modern Environmental standards on today's Africa.
I take the tack that with Africa being largely free since the '60s, the best thing to do is offer goods and services, but withdraw from telling them how and where they should conduct their affairs. Let them use DDT to combat Malaria. Let them drill for oil using the methods they want. To do otherwise is to revert back to a "convert the heathen" approach used by colonialists years back.
It's not often I find an article that nails it on the head, but I found one here:
(The Independent Review, v. VIII, n.1, Summer 2003, ISSN 1086-1653, Copyright © 2003, pp. 65– 86.)
(See mom! I can do references!)
One of the issues often overlooked is that Africa in its current state cannot afford to have environmentally friendly solutions to power needs. For the price of solar cells, they can get, at a minimum, 3 times the electricity using gas or coal-burning methods, and can have electricity during the night (imagine!). Not to mention the environmental damage done from the production of solar cells. (ethylene-vinyl acetate lining and heavy metals in water, not to mention the electricity draw necessary to heat and dope the silicon itself)
Yet much of the crusading energy of current environmentalism derives from a much different source. For many of its followers today, environmentalism has been a substitute for fading mainline Christian and progressive faiths—its religious quality obvious to any close observer of its workings. Its language is often overtly religious: “saving” the earth from rape and pillage; building “cathedrals” in the wilderness; creating a new “Noah’s Ark” with laws such as the Endangered Species Act; pursuing a new “calling” to preserve the remaining wild areas; and taking steps to protect what is left of “the Creation” on earth. At the heart of the environmental message is a new story of the fall of mankind from a previous, happier, and more natural and innocent time—a secular vision of the biblical fall from the Garden of Eden.
Before the corrupting influence of modern civilization (and perhaps the true date of the fall can be traced as far back as the rise of agriculture, almost ten thousand years ago), human beings lived in genuine harmony with nature. Since the fall, the rise of acquisitive urges and the destructive powers of modern science and industrial production have defiled the innocence of nature almost everywhere. Environmentalism therefore seeks to protect the vestiges of the original natural order and perhaps in some places to restore a “true” nature—the original Creation, as it is in effect regarded within the movement—that has been lost.
Later on, he talks about massive displacements of the indigenous people to make way for conservation parks. Ironically, most of these are on some of the most fertile ground that Africa has to offer. This is done to preserve these areas to bring in tourist dollars. People come in to experience "primeval Africa". Mostly westerners.
Turns out that the needs of the people are being marginalized due to the massive lobbying efforts from outside. By environmental groups. Western environmental groups.
The western world is starving Africa with its environmentalism practices, then making ourselves feel better by arranging aid. But hey, we get to feel better in the process. And isn't that the important part?
Monday, July 06, 2009
We're in (gross) sync...
So apparently, Tab has filled you all in on my poo-ems.
For a touch more background, Sev, Matt, and I have been texting for some time about our sit-down activities when on the john, not in graphic terms at all, but in very flowery, poetic language that gives a valid description without being crass.
The humor of using delicate language to depict something so base is part of the humor, really.
Kind of like when Shakespeare made a sex/drinking joke in the middle of Macbeth, really. (look up the role of the gatekeeper if you have any doubts).
One of the side effects of this is that I have utilized (and invented) all of the delicate ways to describe such stall-based antics.
With that in mind, this past Sunday happened to be a communion Sunday. Pastor Dan Hicks gave a message about freedom, and was trying to make the point that you should leave your concerns and cares at the table.
However, the exact phrase started out as: "leave a deposit on this table..."
I stifled my laughter. I looked at Tab, and she had an equally devious grin on her face. If memory serves, the conversation went like this:
Tab: "Don't you dare..."
Me: "Honey, the pastor said to..."
We are going to have sooo much fun in life...
For a touch more background, Sev, Matt, and I have been texting for some time about our sit-down activities when on the john, not in graphic terms at all, but in very flowery, poetic language that gives a valid description without being crass.
The humor of using delicate language to depict something so base is part of the humor, really.
Kind of like when Shakespeare made a sex/drinking joke in the middle of Macbeth, really. (look up the role of the gatekeeper if you have any doubts).
One of the side effects of this is that I have utilized (and invented) all of the delicate ways to describe such stall-based antics.
With that in mind, this past Sunday happened to be a communion Sunday. Pastor Dan Hicks gave a message about freedom, and was trying to make the point that you should leave your concerns and cares at the table.
However, the exact phrase started out as: "leave a deposit on this table..."
I stifled my laughter. I looked at Tab, and she had an equally devious grin on her face. If memory serves, the conversation went like this:
Tab: "Don't you dare..."
Me: "Honey, the pastor said to..."
We are going to have sooo much fun in life...
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Pressure to perform...
Note: This was made WAAAAAAAAAAY back in February, but I never felt I got it "just right". So, in lieu of anything else, I'm just going to hit "publish post" and call it a day. Enjoy.
Sooo, my girlfriend was happy Valetine's day. I got the opportunity to lie to her, and claim (genuine) exhaustion as a reason to not go out and do anything. And she loves me for it. :)
Unfortunately, for me, the memories are not quite so fond for this holiday...
Christmas was bittersweet with Carrie. She was so detached from investment into the relationship that it was as if she were not apart of it. I felt like a showpiece, almost "the flavor of the month".
Being a first Girlfriend, I went along with puppy-love abandon. Rather like Niles and Maris Crane on Frasier, I lacked a spine. By the time Valentine's Day rolled around, she had called a break to the relationship, from which it never recovered.
My second girlfriend, however, was so insecure about herself that by even Christmas, I didn't want to be with her.
In this year, however, things have changed. My last relationship was in 2000-2001. Since then, I have had a chance to grow and reflect on who I am both inside and outside of a relationship.
I've had opportunities with several young ladies since then, and have turned them down, recognizing the issues that would make the relationship unhealthy.
It was (unfortunately) a point of realized maturity (hate that word) when I turned a girl down, postulating that I would rather be in a healthy relationship then have someone to hug during V-Day.
Point being is that both relationships had major detractants when Valentine's Day came around.
This year, however, things were different. I finally had something of worth to give her. The best part was it took effort, not cash. And I knew it was going to be good.
Which is the weirdness. I've never had something I knew would be spot-on for someone without them telling me so, or finding out through someone else.
It made me really happy to do it.
It also gave me the confidence that I might have the ability to surprise her throughout her life. It's interesting to be happy to make someone happy, and look forward to doing it.
Sooo, my girlfriend was happy Valetine's day. I got the opportunity to lie to her, and claim (genuine) exhaustion as a reason to not go out and do anything. And she loves me for it. :)
Unfortunately, for me, the memories are not quite so fond for this holiday...
Christmas was bittersweet with Carrie. She was so detached from investment into the relationship that it was as if she were not apart of it. I felt like a showpiece, almost "the flavor of the month".
Being a first Girlfriend, I went along with puppy-love abandon. Rather like Niles and Maris Crane on Frasier, I lacked a spine. By the time Valentine's Day rolled around, she had called a break to the relationship, from which it never recovered.
My second girlfriend, however, was so insecure about herself that by even Christmas, I didn't want to be with her.
In this year, however, things have changed. My last relationship was in 2000-2001. Since then, I have had a chance to grow and reflect on who I am both inside and outside of a relationship.
I've had opportunities with several young ladies since then, and have turned them down, recognizing the issues that would make the relationship unhealthy.
It was (unfortunately) a point of realized maturity (hate that word) when I turned a girl down, postulating that I would rather be in a healthy relationship then have someone to hug during V-Day.
Point being is that both relationships had major detractants when Valentine's Day came around.
This year, however, things were different. I finally had something of worth to give her. The best part was it took effort, not cash. And I knew it was going to be good.
Which is the weirdness. I've never had something I knew would be spot-on for someone without them telling me so, or finding out through someone else.
It made me really happy to do it.
It also gave me the confidence that I might have the ability to surprise her throughout her life. It's interesting to be happy to make someone happy, and look forward to doing it.
Friday, May 08, 2009
Fire again!
So, as I start my 4th year here, I also am in the middle of my 4th fire.
We've had the Zaca Fire, Gap Fire (Which was the closest so far), and the Tea Fire.
So, as we start the Jesusita Fire, I've got to say, the rising panic is just not there anymore. I'm tapped. I've gotten everything that means anything to me. I'm going to go back down to LA. I'm not worried, upset, anxious, or mad.
It was a bit interesting leaving my place. To quote Han Solo: "I dunno. I just have this feeling I'm not going to see her again."
It's also interesting how much of your stuff is just...stuff. I realized that, while it would suck, if I lost everything, assuming that the condo and fire insurance handled the financial aspect of it, there is nothing left in the condo that I would be grief-stricken to lose.
My Gaming rig is out. (priorities, people!)
My Laptop and camera are out.
My Firearm is out.
The Wedding band/wrap is out.
My Important Clothes are out.
It would not be the worst thing in the world for Tab and I to start from scratch in a new place. So either way, I'm content to be where God places me.
Weird, huh?
We've had the Zaca Fire, Gap Fire (Which was the closest so far), and the Tea Fire.
So, as we start the Jesusita Fire, I've got to say, the rising panic is just not there anymore. I'm tapped. I've gotten everything that means anything to me. I'm going to go back down to LA. I'm not worried, upset, anxious, or mad.
It was a bit interesting leaving my place. To quote Han Solo: "I dunno. I just have this feeling I'm not going to see her again."
It's also interesting how much of your stuff is just...stuff. I realized that, while it would suck, if I lost everything, assuming that the condo and fire insurance handled the financial aspect of it, there is nothing left in the condo that I would be grief-stricken to lose.
My Gaming rig is out. (priorities, people!)
My Laptop and camera are out.
My Firearm is out.
The Wedding band/wrap is out.
My Important Clothes are out.
It would not be the worst thing in the world for Tab and I to start from scratch in a new place. So either way, I'm content to be where God places me.
Weird, huh?
Monday, March 16, 2009
Pre-marrieds is preventing communication in our relationship?
So, Tabitha and I have been in pre-married class at Church On The Way. It's a good course, intended to shake out the details that most married couples hit as roadblocks only after many years in.
However, as part of the class, there are homework assignments, CDs, and classes. The homework assignments, when taken seriously, take a long time to complete, as it gives each person a chance to talk about themselves, their backgrounds, their viewpoints, etc.
The CDs are a 10-part series put together by Jack Hayford, talking about Marriage in a Christian context, and have been very illuminating.
The problem is that the only time we have to listen to the CDs is on our way back and forth from LA every weekend.
So, for the past 12 weeks, our drive times have been quiet, listening to taped sermons.
It was kind of weird being in a small enclosed space with someone you wanted to talk with and not able to talk with them.
It started causing problems when we would schedule something else that would infringe on our small "together" time. I found myself upset, as it seemed that any of the "alone" time we had was taken up with either quietly listening to the CDs in a car, or doing homework. There was never any time spent to just talk with Tab and enjoy her company. Between the CDs, homework, classes, gym, work, going back home, planning a wedding, it seems like there was never any time to "just be".
We finally finished the CDs this past weekend, and can now talk on our drives.
Wow...it's like I get to spend time with Tab again after not seeing her for so long.
And yup, I still love her.
144 days, six hours, 44 minutes and 15 seconds...14...13...12...11...
However, as part of the class, there are homework assignments, CDs, and classes. The homework assignments, when taken seriously, take a long time to complete, as it gives each person a chance to talk about themselves, their backgrounds, their viewpoints, etc.
The CDs are a 10-part series put together by Jack Hayford, talking about Marriage in a Christian context, and have been very illuminating.
The problem is that the only time we have to listen to the CDs is on our way back and forth from LA every weekend.
So, for the past 12 weeks, our drive times have been quiet, listening to taped sermons.
It was kind of weird being in a small enclosed space with someone you wanted to talk with and not able to talk with them.
It started causing problems when we would schedule something else that would infringe on our small "together" time. I found myself upset, as it seemed that any of the "alone" time we had was taken up with either quietly listening to the CDs in a car, or doing homework. There was never any time spent to just talk with Tab and enjoy her company. Between the CDs, homework, classes, gym, work, going back home, planning a wedding, it seems like there was never any time to "just be".
We finally finished the CDs this past weekend, and can now talk on our drives.
Wow...it's like I get to spend time with Tab again after not seeing her for so long.
And yup, I still love her.
144 days, six hours, 44 minutes and 15 seconds...14...13...12...11...
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Should these go together?
Sometimes, Google News can put together very unfortunate pictures with a news article. Here is one I saw that made me smile:
That's good eats!
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Re-Discovery...
What is it about a second look? When someone changes themselves only slightly, and you see them again and rediscover something you've known, but had completely forgotten?
The familiar suddenly becomes exciting again. Things you accepted at face value suddenly gain a dimension to them. Whether a passage of Scripture that you've read time and time again gaining a new freshness due to personal circumstances, or seeing someone in a different light because of a seemingly small change in yourself or them.
All this to say: Tab wore a skirt today. Wow. Just...wow.
The familiar suddenly becomes exciting again. Things you accepted at face value suddenly gain a dimension to them. Whether a passage of Scripture that you've read time and time again gaining a new freshness due to personal circumstances, or seeing someone in a different light because of a seemingly small change in yourself or them.
All this to say: Tab wore a skirt today. Wow. Just...wow.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Memory triggers...
While going through looking at the new Starcraft II (Which looks like it is going to be so very much full of win), I came across a recording of the zealot from Starcraft...
Let me back up...in Starcraft, when you click on a unit, it will utter one of a handful of phrases. I think it is to allow you to use hearing to confirm that you have selected the unit you wanted to, which can be difficult in a crowded screen. for instance, the dropship confirms that he's ok, and ready to fly with "In the pipe, 5 by 5", SCVs respond with a cheerful, "SCV Here! Where do you need me?", etc.
So, getting back to the present, while reading up on it, I found a new video. Amongst the sayings was one from the Protoss Zealot. One of his "phrases" was, "My Life for Aiur" (pronounced "Aye-er"). Aiur being the home planet of this fictitious character.
It took me back.
You see, back in the day, I used to have LAN parties regularly. We would crash someone's house (Typically my parents, Paul's Parents, and later, Paul's), bring our computers, and enjoy each other's company while we blew things away late into the night (leading to mornings and afternoons again), until we just couldn't physically keep our eyes open.
Well, while in a caffeine-fueled fragging session at 2AM, pretty much anything is silly. So, when playing starcraft, the zealot uttered his usual catchphrase: "My Life for Aiur". John, ever the thoughtful one, said, "Wow, it sounds like he said, 'My Wife for Hire'".
We broke out in a fit of giggles.
Hearing it again, it got me thinking...so many memories.
I remember fitting seven people in my room and John's "annex".
This was before flat-panels.
We had monitor precariously perched on every spot on the desk we could find space. The heat in the room was overwhelming. John didn't have it too bad because he had stone floor, and could open a window. But my room, the 1 air vent with no return from my room, calibrated to a thermostat set in the living room, and two small doors with no airflow, usually got the room to a temperature reserved for saunas and heat lamp interrogations.
While playing Counterstrike (the original, mind you), Alvin, who was getting shafted, turned to Matt and said, "How sad is this? It's a Friday night, and we're playing video games with a bunch of guys?"
Of course, this is the same Alvin that, at another LAN party, this time at Pauls Parent's house, realized that Todd Afshar was nearby. After inviting him down, Alvin hung up the phone and said, "Todd says 'lube up, I'm coming over'". IIRC, that was the LAN party that had Paul, John, Sheasby, Dereck, Alvin, Todd, and myself, all at the Laufer's place.
I also remember Steven Harriton (aka "munchiebutt"), playing us at Starcraft. You see, we were recreational gamers with all games. Steven was ok at Counterstrike, but when it came to Starcraft, he was just sick.
At one time, he took on all three of us (Paul, John, and myself), and humiliated, nay, violated us. He even came down to my parent's place to play the night he proposed to Amy because, "I knew that if I stayed there, bad things could happen".
I remember when we had high speed internet in the dorms, and set up the IKYN Counterstrike Clan (IKYN stands for "I KILLS YOU NOW!!!!!!"). John (aka [IKYN]Phantom), unfortunately, was trying to play on a 33.6 modem. He tried, but usually was just too laggy to compete on our server. EXCEPT for the one time he got a headshot on [IKYN]Uranus during a practice session. Nobody except Paul and I knew what an absolutely awesome thing it was. I was soooo proud of my little brother...
Life moves on I suppose. I'm even more of a casual gamer than I used to be. I've gotten into other things. Friends, girls (or, more accurately, "girl"), VHDL, Phone re-flashing, etc.
But it is amazing how quickly a simple phrase can take you back.
"My Life for Aiur"
*giggle*
Let me back up...in Starcraft, when you click on a unit, it will utter one of a handful of phrases. I think it is to allow you to use hearing to confirm that you have selected the unit you wanted to, which can be difficult in a crowded screen. for instance, the dropship confirms that he's ok, and ready to fly with "In the pipe, 5 by 5", SCVs respond with a cheerful, "SCV Here! Where do you need me?", etc.
So, getting back to the present, while reading up on it, I found a new video. Amongst the sayings was one from the Protoss Zealot. One of his "phrases" was, "My Life for Aiur" (pronounced "Aye-er"). Aiur being the home planet of this fictitious character.
It took me back.
You see, back in the day, I used to have LAN parties regularly. We would crash someone's house (Typically my parents, Paul's Parents, and later, Paul's), bring our computers, and enjoy each other's company while we blew things away late into the night (leading to mornings and afternoons again), until we just couldn't physically keep our eyes open.
Well, while in a caffeine-fueled fragging session at 2AM, pretty much anything is silly. So, when playing starcraft, the zealot uttered his usual catchphrase: "My Life for Aiur". John, ever the thoughtful one, said, "Wow, it sounds like he said, 'My Wife for Hire'".
We broke out in a fit of giggles.
Hearing it again, it got me thinking...so many memories.
I remember fitting seven people in my room and John's "annex".
This was before flat-panels.
We had monitor precariously perched on every spot on the desk we could find space. The heat in the room was overwhelming. John didn't have it too bad because he had stone floor, and could open a window. But my room, the 1 air vent with no return from my room, calibrated to a thermostat set in the living room, and two small doors with no airflow, usually got the room to a temperature reserved for saunas and heat lamp interrogations.
While playing Counterstrike (the original, mind you), Alvin, who was getting shafted, turned to Matt and said, "How sad is this? It's a Friday night, and we're playing video games with a bunch of guys?"
Of course, this is the same Alvin that, at another LAN party, this time at Pauls Parent's house, realized that Todd Afshar was nearby. After inviting him down, Alvin hung up the phone and said, "Todd says 'lube up, I'm coming over'". IIRC, that was the LAN party that had Paul, John, Sheasby, Dereck, Alvin, Todd, and myself, all at the Laufer's place.
I also remember Steven Harriton (aka "munchiebutt"), playing us at Starcraft. You see, we were recreational gamers with all games. Steven was ok at Counterstrike, but when it came to Starcraft, he was just sick.
At one time, he took on all three of us (Paul, John, and myself), and humiliated, nay, violated us. He even came down to my parent's place to play the night he proposed to Amy because, "I knew that if I stayed there, bad things could happen".
I remember when we had high speed internet in the dorms, and set up the IKYN Counterstrike Clan (IKYN stands for "I KILLS YOU NOW!!!!!!"). John (aka [IKYN]Phantom), unfortunately, was trying to play on a 33.6 modem. He tried, but usually was just too laggy to compete on our server. EXCEPT for the one time he got a headshot on [IKYN]Uranus during a practice session. Nobody except Paul and I knew what an absolutely awesome thing it was. I was soooo proud of my little brother...
Life moves on I suppose. I'm even more of a casual gamer than I used to be. I've gotten into other things. Friends, girls (or, more accurately, "girl"), VHDL, Phone re-flashing, etc.
But it is amazing how quickly a simple phrase can take you back.
"My Life for Aiur"
*giggle*
Monday, January 19, 2009
Love and all the scariness it entails...
Today I had a rather important lesson in the difference between knowledge and realization.
As with anyone who has been single for awhile, I've gotten into a rhythm of dating. It's almost imperceptible how it creeps up on someone: cautiously, almost mechanically, trying to find out if any of the dealbreakers in previous relationships can be found in your current interest.
As has not happened in quite some time, when a certain level of comfort and interest is attained, you begin to have thoughts that this is the one, so you start to entertain that idea, going about the relationship, evaluating your interaction at a deeper level, thinking, "this is cool now, but can I deal with this the rest of my life?"
Not to say that emotions and feelings aren't there, but previous dating disasters have taught you not to get hopeful. Years of dating have diminished the expectations of this relationship to the point that that the initial response is to dread the other foot dropping, something horrible to be discovered, and for it to all come unraveled. (Hey, I have a sense of pattern recognition, after all)
So, up to about two months ago, it's been a period of me keeping myself in reserve, waiting to see what will or will not happen, knowing that, on paper, Tab holds all the qualities I'm looking forward to.
I was reflecting on this yesterday in the middle of a BORING meeting (seriously...hold a staff meeting only if there is something to go over with ALL the staff.)
Something broke. I am looking forward to being with Tab. The thought of being married, not just in general, but specifically to her, is one that excites me. I finally realize just how much I have based my happiness on her well-being.
And it wasn't anything overnight. No big "Ok! I Care a lot now!" moment. Only the realization that that point had been reached.
I don't know how long that has been the case, only that I am there now.
It's amazing how you can harden your heart for years and not realize how calloused you have become. It's also weird to realize the extent to which one person can become so emotionally ingrained without you being entirely aware of the process. You women are weird.
After a lifetime of being either alone or unsure about the girls I've dated, I've finally met a girl that I can put all of my effort into. She inspires me with her drive, perplexes me with her whimsical nature, challenges me with her point of view, and shows me, without telling me, where I need to grow.
We both do realize that nothing is set in stone, and things could end at any given moment for any reason, but right now I feel happy and cautiously optimistic.
As with anyone who has been single for awhile, I've gotten into a rhythm of dating. It's almost imperceptible how it creeps up on someone: cautiously, almost mechanically, trying to find out if any of the dealbreakers in previous relationships can be found in your current interest.
As has not happened in quite some time, when a certain level of comfort and interest is attained, you begin to have thoughts that this is the one, so you start to entertain that idea, going about the relationship, evaluating your interaction at a deeper level, thinking, "this is cool now, but can I deal with this the rest of my life?"
Not to say that emotions and feelings aren't there, but previous dating disasters have taught you not to get hopeful. Years of dating have diminished the expectations of this relationship to the point that that the initial response is to dread the other foot dropping, something horrible to be discovered, and for it to all come unraveled. (Hey, I have a sense of pattern recognition, after all)
So, up to about two months ago, it's been a period of me keeping myself in reserve, waiting to see what will or will not happen, knowing that, on paper, Tab holds all the qualities I'm looking forward to.
I was reflecting on this yesterday in the middle of a BORING meeting (seriously...hold a staff meeting only if there is something to go over with ALL the staff.)
Something broke. I am looking forward to being with Tab. The thought of being married, not just in general, but specifically to her, is one that excites me. I finally realize just how much I have based my happiness on her well-being.
And it wasn't anything overnight. No big "Ok! I Care a lot now!" moment. Only the realization that that point had been reached.
I don't know how long that has been the case, only that I am there now.
It's amazing how you can harden your heart for years and not realize how calloused you have become. It's also weird to realize the extent to which one person can become so emotionally ingrained without you being entirely aware of the process. You women are weird.
After a lifetime of being either alone or unsure about the girls I've dated, I've finally met a girl that I can put all of my effort into. She inspires me with her drive, perplexes me with her whimsical nature, challenges me with her point of view, and shows me, without telling me, where I need to grow.
We both do realize that nothing is set in stone, and things could end at any given moment for any reason, but right now I feel happy and cautiously optimistic.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Reminders of the past...
This past weekend, I had a chance to re-connect with an old friend from High School that I haven't seen in 15 years, save a brief howdie in 1999.
Jason and I literally kept talking until 1:45 in the morning. Talking with him, I began to miss those days, and I couldn't figure it out. On the drive home, it hit me: It was the friendships.
There is something about being in a large cluster of friends everyday without much in the way of formality.
I remember being in a large group of friends in High school group, Jr. High, going to Camp Cedar Crest and hanging out, being crazy, and being free to be goofy with one another.
Dating usually meant you brought someone into your group of friends.
Nobody was really really dating seriously at that time (get real people), so the concept of isolation from one's friends because of a dating relationship was usually a sign of a high maintenance relationship that wasn't going to last summer or college separation.
Talking to Jason, I began to realize that the way he included people was the formation of my current desire to include people in everything I do.
But, most importantly, some of the pain of my arrival to Santa Barbara began to come into focus.
The part I miss most from High School times is the lack of pretense in relationships. The ability to simply be one's self around other people, and not put up an act to keep people from possibly being uncomfortable with so much personal knowledge of each other; Being transparent to friends you could trust implicitly, because you hadn't learned, or needed, to put up guards.
Every year for the past few years, I make a trek up to Stanford around Christmas-time to visit another old friend. I look forward to it all year, but it has always been more than just a chance to unwind. Talking with Jason, the reason became clear: I could be myself. This other friend (now married to a lovely young lady, equally as friendly) is much the same. There is no need to hide, put up barriers, etc. This is someone with whom I can be my silly, goofy self with, and there hasn't been a need to keep them at arm's length. I can be silly, goofy, and vulnerable without having to worry about being hurt.
At a wedding yesterday with Tab, I realized the extent that I had emotionally not allowed her words and actions to affect me, keeping her at arm's reach internally, despite her earnestly seeking me out. Interacting with her at the reception, now armed with this renaissance viewpoint, I think I fell in love with her a little more. I could be in real trouble here. :)
Side note: In talking with Jason I found out I unwittingly embarrassed him at a High School outing in front of a girl he was very interested in at the time. Evidently, it was so thorough that he didn't stand a chance. He can finally laugh about it now. I had no idea. Oops.
Jason and I literally kept talking until 1:45 in the morning. Talking with him, I began to miss those days, and I couldn't figure it out. On the drive home, it hit me: It was the friendships.
There is something about being in a large cluster of friends everyday without much in the way of formality.
I remember being in a large group of friends in High school group, Jr. High, going to Camp Cedar Crest and hanging out, being crazy, and being free to be goofy with one another.
Dating usually meant you brought someone into your group of friends.
Nobody was really really dating seriously at that time (get real people), so the concept of isolation from one's friends because of a dating relationship was usually a sign of a high maintenance relationship that wasn't going to last summer or college separation.
Talking to Jason, I began to realize that the way he included people was the formation of my current desire to include people in everything I do.
But, most importantly, some of the pain of my arrival to Santa Barbara began to come into focus.
The part I miss most from High School times is the lack of pretense in relationships. The ability to simply be one's self around other people, and not put up an act to keep people from possibly being uncomfortable with so much personal knowledge of each other; Being transparent to friends you could trust implicitly, because you hadn't learned, or needed, to put up guards.
Every year for the past few years, I make a trek up to Stanford around Christmas-time to visit another old friend. I look forward to it all year, but it has always been more than just a chance to unwind. Talking with Jason, the reason became clear: I could be myself. This other friend (now married to a lovely young lady, equally as friendly) is much the same. There is no need to hide, put up barriers, etc. This is someone with whom I can be my silly, goofy self with, and there hasn't been a need to keep them at arm's length. I can be silly, goofy, and vulnerable without having to worry about being hurt.
At a wedding yesterday with Tab, I realized the extent that I had emotionally not allowed her words and actions to affect me, keeping her at arm's reach internally, despite her earnestly seeking me out. Interacting with her at the reception, now armed with this renaissance viewpoint, I think I fell in love with her a little more. I could be in real trouble here. :)
Side note: In talking with Jason I found out I unwittingly embarrassed him at a High School outing in front of a girl he was very interested in at the time. Evidently, it was so thorough that he didn't stand a chance. He can finally laugh about it now. I had no idea. Oops.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Reflection on warnings from the past...
Last night, I finally got a chance to watch a film I've been meaning to see for awhile now, Downfall.
It chronicles the final moments of Adolf Hitler and his immediate advisers in the final moments of the Führerbunker. It is taken from a wide variety of sources, including his secretary, Trudl Junge, whose interview takes place right before the start of the movie.
An amazing performance by all involved. In reading up on the background of the film, they address the touchy subject of making a movie where Adolph Hitler is not portrayed as a raving, screaming, larger-than-life evil madman at all times. He is being portrayed as being kind to his dog, kind to his soon-to-be wife, etc.
He is portrayed as being almost resigned to carry out his extermination of the jews and betrayal of the protection of the German people as part of the "laws of nature", with the weaker being destroyed by the stronger, and thus not fit to live in his vision of a rebuilt Germany.
It's amazing that those who don't want history to repeat itself demand he be portrayed as someone with no balance. They want to see a characterization of him as someone who was vicious all the time towards everything he touched.
This is dangerous because it leaves others to wonder why anybody would follow such an obviously deranged character. They then carry on their lives feeling themselves immune to such shenanigans because they are under the mistaken notion that anyone that evil will be as easy to spot as movie villains.
I realized that in order to learn the lessons of the past, you have to take all sides of the man. One reviewer put it succinctly: "We know from all accounts that he was a very charming man —a man who managed to seduce a whole people into barbarism."
Please don't get me wrong. He was an evil, evil, evil man, and I don't advocate anything of his means, or his ends. Sun Tzu said in "The Art Of War" that: "It is said that if you know your enemies and know yourself, you will not be imperiled in a hundred battles"
What jumped out at me, however, was the amount of hero worship that everyone displayed. Even until the end, people were blindly putting their Hope in him, waiting for him to pull off a Change They Could Believe In that would save Berlin, save Germany, and save his vision of a third Reich.
The message of the movie seemed to say that blindly following someone simply because they seem inspirational is dangerous, and can send you down some really bad paths you won't realize until it's too late.
It's a good thing that we here in the US don't suffer from that at all.
It chronicles the final moments of Adolf Hitler and his immediate advisers in the final moments of the Führerbunker. It is taken from a wide variety of sources, including his secretary, Trudl Junge, whose interview takes place right before the start of the movie.
An amazing performance by all involved. In reading up on the background of the film, they address the touchy subject of making a movie where Adolph Hitler is not portrayed as a raving, screaming, larger-than-life evil madman at all times. He is being portrayed as being kind to his dog, kind to his soon-to-be wife, etc.
He is portrayed as being almost resigned to carry out his extermination of the jews and betrayal of the protection of the German people as part of the "laws of nature", with the weaker being destroyed by the stronger, and thus not fit to live in his vision of a rebuilt Germany.
It's amazing that those who don't want history to repeat itself demand he be portrayed as someone with no balance. They want to see a characterization of him as someone who was vicious all the time towards everything he touched.
This is dangerous because it leaves others to wonder why anybody would follow such an obviously deranged character. They then carry on their lives feeling themselves immune to such shenanigans because they are under the mistaken notion that anyone that evil will be as easy to spot as movie villains.
I realized that in order to learn the lessons of the past, you have to take all sides of the man. One reviewer put it succinctly: "We know from all accounts that he was a very charming man —a man who managed to seduce a whole people into barbarism."
Please don't get me wrong. He was an evil, evil, evil man, and I don't advocate anything of his means, or his ends. Sun Tzu said in "The Art Of War" that: "It is said that if you know your enemies and know yourself, you will not be imperiled in a hundred battles"
What jumped out at me, however, was the amount of hero worship that everyone displayed. Even until the end, people were blindly putting their Hope in him, waiting for him to pull off a Change They Could Believe In that would save Berlin, save Germany, and save his vision of a third Reich.
The message of the movie seemed to say that blindly following someone simply because they seem inspirational is dangerous, and can send you down some really bad paths you won't realize until it's too late.
It's a good thing that we here in the US don't suffer from that at all.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Fire update...
So it turns out Tab's house pulled through fine. One wall in the living room was damaged (we haven't surveyed it yet).
Evidently, a bush caught fire right outside the place. According to her roommate, Tab's other roommate kept the door unlocked, so the firemen were able to make entry to the house and clean the fire. Which makes me wonder if there is now water damage to the house.
Which isn't bad, because Tab kept a lot of her chick flicks in the living room. (hee hee hee)
After travelling to LA to get away from the fire, we stayed at my parent's place in Woodland Hills, which was directly downwind from the Sylmar fire (too far away to be in harm's way, unless you count smoke inhalation), we had to travel to Costa Mesa on the 405 (going through the cloud created by the Palos Verdes fire), and later to Azusa (Corona Fire cloud).
Joe's All-Socal Fire tour is done for the year. Our monthly intake of Carbon Monoxide is complete, thankyouverymuch.
All of our clothes smell like we have been at CPAC bonfires for a month. My clean clothes, which hadn't been anywhere near any of the fires smell like smoke from association in my trunk.
Thank you for everyone who prayed for Tab. From the description of the damage, it would appear that all her possessions everything came through ok, except for the possibility of smoke smell.
Evidently, a bush caught fire right outside the place. According to her roommate, Tab's other roommate kept the door unlocked, so the firemen were able to make entry to the house and clean the fire. Which makes me wonder if there is now water damage to the house.
Which isn't bad, because Tab kept a lot of her chick flicks in the living room. (hee hee hee)
After travelling to LA to get away from the fire, we stayed at my parent's place in Woodland Hills, which was directly downwind from the Sylmar fire (too far away to be in harm's way, unless you count smoke inhalation), we had to travel to Costa Mesa on the 405 (going through the cloud created by the Palos Verdes fire), and later to Azusa (Corona Fire cloud).
Joe's All-Socal Fire tour is done for the year. Our monthly intake of Carbon Monoxide is complete, thankyouverymuch.
All of our clothes smell like we have been at CPAC bonfires for a month. My clean clothes, which hadn't been anywhere near any of the fires smell like smoke from association in my trunk.
Thank you for everyone who prayed for Tab. From the description of the damage, it would appear that all her possessions everything came through ok, except for the possibility of smoke smell.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Incidental heroes, and hopeful re-beginnings...
(Originally sent out in the wee hours of 14NOV08, then re-tooled to correct an erroneous assumption we had made due to the house being pelted with live embers.)
Soooo.....tonight has been more eventful than I had originally planned, with circumstances too contrived to be anything but divine timing.
After an exceedingly dull day at work. (UML....whee?) I was scheduled to go running with Tabitha and Mike Beck. Sooo, we are driving down to SBCC, when I notice a wildfire kinda close to where I estimate Mike Beck's house to be.
So I give him a call.
He re-assures me in his "Don't worry, I've got the situation well in hand" way that I am so terribly jealous of, that the fire is way far away from his place.
After we park at SBCC ten minutes early, I get a second call, with him telling me that after seeing the fire, he's kinda worried himself (vindication!!!), and that he's going to run up to his place and make sure.
So, the two of us are sitting in my car, Tabitha bored waiting for Mike, and suggesting that maybe we should start the run or at least stretch out before he got there, when I think about where the fire is in relationship to Tab's home.
I called my brother and Derek, but neither of them could get to the phone. I called Justin. He was in SLO, and hadn't heard about it at all. Finally, I get ahold of Sanford. I asked if he was in front of a computer.
Then I remembered who I was talking to.
He informed me the fire was north of the 192 by Hot Springs Road. Suddenly, Tabitha was not so lethargic. "That's my neighborhood" she said, no longer quite as bored.
We cancelled running with Mike, and raced up to her house. As we went higher and higher into the mountains, the smoke got thicker. I was reminded of all the people who told me that smoke inhalation, rather than flame, is the most dangerous part of any fire. Putting that away, we scurried up the road to her house.
People were leaving the neighborhood in droves. The entire scene reminded me of stereotypical movies and cartoon scenes when the lights come on in a dark room and all the roaches scurry away to safety. Except all the roaches in this case were cars. And we were the lone roaches going back in.
About 3/4s of the way up, my "low fuel" light came on. Yup, Joe was being macho, and trying to delay getting fuel until the last possible minute. Now the mental movie had us coming back down the mountain, and running out of fuel halfway back down.
Getting up to her house, the smoke betrayed the location of the light beams, reducing visibility. As we parked, I began noticing the ash flying into the beamwidth.
Stepping outside, the smell of a really big CPAC bonfire hit almost immediately.
Tabitha got into her place, and started to go through her stuff, leisurely at first, but with increased vigor as I impressed upon her the probable need to quickly pack as if she were EVACing her place forever. (Order of importance: Medicine, Photos, Computers, Firearms, Stocks/bonds/mementos.)
We called her roommates and asked if there was anything we could get while we were in the area. Only one answered, and gave us a location and list of things we could collect for her in case she didn't make it in time.
Loading up the car, I noticed a live ember fly up over the car. I continued to load, and the roommate arrived. She was in a panic, as the smoke was noticeably thicker, with the lights from the flames in the distance getting brighter, indicating a closer proximity.
The roommate arrived with somebody from work who was helping her pack. As I mentioned earlier, she was quite distraught, and her friend was calming her down and directing her as to what was important. However, she was still so shaken up that when she loaded some papers of hers in the trunk, it spilled in the fire-induced high winds and spread into the street, blowing about, making the roommates sense of despair that much more tangible.
While loading Tabitha's stuff in the car, I very quietly took the roommate's stuff I had previously loaded in the car out, and put it in her car.
Looking back, the roommate's friend said, "we have to go. Now."
I turned to see the winds had shifted, and were coming in our direction now. The fires were close enough that they were lighting the street. Just then, a cloud of embers landed in the street.
I rushed into the house, told Tabitha we were leaving immediately, and "was that the last of it?" She said yes, made sure she had her keys, but couldn't find her phone. I wish I could tell you that I said something re-assuring and inspirational, but I believe my exact words were, "F*ck the phone. You can get a new one."
I have never been so glad in my life to hear the sweet sound of an engine turning over. Say what you will about Fords, but this engine came to life as if it was just as eager to leave this stereotype of hell on earth as we were.
Barrelling down the mountainside, I struggled to remember what the manual said about the "Low fuel" light. Did that mean 30 miles? 50 miles? Was that only until the reserve tank was used?
Traffic seemed to flow until we got to the first round-about. Because of police EVAC and blockading, traffic ground to a halt. As Tabitha used my phone to make calls, I sat there quietly sweating, and wondering why and how I had succumbed to the male necessity to stretch things out to the ultimate end. "A half tank" I resolved, "from here on out, I will always leave a half tank". I probably won't, but it's like a new year's resolution: You make them with the best of intentions.
We got onto the freeway, and I breathed a sigh of relief as we made the turn off of the 101 and onto the 217. Getting off at Hollister, I went immediately to the Exxon Station. I filled up, and called around to make sure that anyone else we knew in the area was ok. We tried to locate her cell phone, and we thought we heard it in the car, but it seemed unlikely.
Getting back to our place, we stopped at our neighbors who had a TV and asked if we could tune in to see if there was any new news about the fire. Jeff and Leah are the most awesome neighbors anyone could ever ask for. They invited us in, and when they heard about Tabitha's ordeal, immediately offered her some wine, which she readily accepted. While watching, they practically insisted that we eat some leftovers they had (a *wonderful* combination of pasta, garlic, Parmesan, and cauliflower), we sat and watched the fire devour more than a few homes.
We returned a few things to the roommate that I forgot I hadn't given her at our previous encounter. She was surprised that I had thought to bring her PCMCIA wireless card as well as her laptop and power supply (hello? geek here!), as well as a box that had Bond Certificates in it.
We then made the trek out here to my parent's place. And here I sit, at 0146 in the morning. The news reports that we read at the time seemed to suggest that, barring a miracle, my GF's house was nothing more than crispy crunchy ash.
We got out the critical stuff at the time: laptop, majority of day-to-day clothes, medicines. We even found the cell phone after a bit of digging.
But, all this would not have been possible had one person not been at his station, and helped us out: Sanford, I owe you big for this one. Next time you get up here, it's Middleton's for you, my friend.
I made a stupid mistake early on in my last Computer setup (RAID0). As a result, I lost everything when one of the drives failed. I lost all of the emails that I had kept since 1995, all the funny pictures I had made or found online, all the love letters and IM fights, all my digital homework, programming files, all the goofy stuff I had been up to since 1996.
It felt like a past that identified me with my surroundings of the time had been lost; like a part of my life now had the capacity to fade away, the digital reminders of life previous to my current one were that much more tenuous. Easily lost, and with all likelihood, only being recalled when something jogged it, either in conversation or by association.
That is how I imagine it must have felt for her as we initally considered the house a total loss.
At the time, we made some attempt to quantify it: all her books, chick flick DVDs (which means the fire wouldn't have been ALL bad), all her clothes not in my car, her chair, bed (which used to be my brother's, then mine.), would be gone.
I had to make a restart when I bid adieu to those RAID0 drives (burn in hell you faulty 150GB Maxtors). It's a sick feeling. But at some point you can do nothing more but resolve that you are going to move on from that point.
So here is to holding out hope that her house is still standing, complete with books, knick-knacks, and one way-too-big-for-her-room chair.
However, if the chick flicks were to somehow go missing, I know *I* wouldn't shed a tear. :)
(present day, now)
We came to LA ahead of schedule to spend the weekend with my parents. Tonight, while cuddling on the couch after swing dancing, I noticed the smell of fire. Having been in the proximity of fire so recently, I dismissed it as being attached to various pieces of clothing that were involved in the fire. Come to find out that it was actually the Sylmar Fire that blew directly into my parent's direction.
So, we escaped the Montecito fire, only to be in the Sylmar fire. Aren't we lucky?
Soooo.....tonight has been more eventful than I had originally planned, with circumstances too contrived to be anything but divine timing.
After an exceedingly dull day at work. (UML....whee?) I was scheduled to go running with Tabitha and Mike Beck. Sooo, we are driving down to SBCC, when I notice a wildfire kinda close to where I estimate Mike Beck's house to be.
So I give him a call.
He re-assures me in his "Don't worry, I've got the situation well in hand" way that I am so terribly jealous of, that the fire is way far away from his place.
After we park at SBCC ten minutes early, I get a second call, with him telling me that after seeing the fire, he's kinda worried himself (vindication!!!), and that he's going to run up to his place and make sure.
So, the two of us are sitting in my car, Tabitha bored waiting for Mike, and suggesting that maybe we should start the run or at least stretch out before he got there, when I think about where the fire is in relationship to Tab's home.
I called my brother and Derek, but neither of them could get to the phone. I called Justin. He was in SLO, and hadn't heard about it at all. Finally, I get ahold of Sanford. I asked if he was in front of a computer.
Then I remembered who I was talking to.
He informed me the fire was north of the 192 by Hot Springs Road. Suddenly, Tabitha was not so lethargic. "That's my neighborhood" she said, no longer quite as bored.
We cancelled running with Mike, and raced up to her house. As we went higher and higher into the mountains, the smoke got thicker. I was reminded of all the people who told me that smoke inhalation, rather than flame, is the most dangerous part of any fire. Putting that away, we scurried up the road to her house.
People were leaving the neighborhood in droves. The entire scene reminded me of stereotypical movies and cartoon scenes when the lights come on in a dark room and all the roaches scurry away to safety. Except all the roaches in this case were cars. And we were the lone roaches going back in.
About 3/4s of the way up, my "low fuel" light came on. Yup, Joe was being macho, and trying to delay getting fuel until the last possible minute. Now the mental movie had us coming back down the mountain, and running out of fuel halfway back down.
Getting up to her house, the smoke betrayed the location of the light beams, reducing visibility. As we parked, I began noticing the ash flying into the beamwidth.
Stepping outside, the smell of a really big CPAC bonfire hit almost immediately.
Tabitha got into her place, and started to go through her stuff, leisurely at first, but with increased vigor as I impressed upon her the probable need to quickly pack as if she were EVACing her place forever. (Order of importance: Medicine, Photos, Computers, Firearms, Stocks/bonds/mementos.)
We called her roommates and asked if there was anything we could get while we were in the area. Only one answered, and gave us a location and list of things we could collect for her in case she didn't make it in time.
Loading up the car, I noticed a live ember fly up over the car. I continued to load, and the roommate arrived. She was in a panic, as the smoke was noticeably thicker, with the lights from the flames in the distance getting brighter, indicating a closer proximity.
The roommate arrived with somebody from work who was helping her pack. As I mentioned earlier, she was quite distraught, and her friend was calming her down and directing her as to what was important. However, she was still so shaken up that when she loaded some papers of hers in the trunk, it spilled in the fire-induced high winds and spread into the street, blowing about, making the roommates sense of despair that much more tangible.
While loading Tabitha's stuff in the car, I very quietly took the roommate's stuff I had previously loaded in the car out, and put it in her car.
Looking back, the roommate's friend said, "we have to go. Now."
I turned to see the winds had shifted, and were coming in our direction now. The fires were close enough that they were lighting the street. Just then, a cloud of embers landed in the street.
I rushed into the house, told Tabitha we were leaving immediately, and "was that the last of it?" She said yes, made sure she had her keys, but couldn't find her phone. I wish I could tell you that I said something re-assuring and inspirational, but I believe my exact words were, "F*ck the phone. You can get a new one."
I have never been so glad in my life to hear the sweet sound of an engine turning over. Say what you will about Fords, but this engine came to life as if it was just as eager to leave this stereotype of hell on earth as we were.
Barrelling down the mountainside, I struggled to remember what the manual said about the "Low fuel" light. Did that mean 30 miles? 50 miles? Was that only until the reserve tank was used?
Traffic seemed to flow until we got to the first round-about. Because of police EVAC and blockading, traffic ground to a halt. As Tabitha used my phone to make calls, I sat there quietly sweating, and wondering why and how I had succumbed to the male necessity to stretch things out to the ultimate end. "A half tank" I resolved, "from here on out, I will always leave a half tank". I probably won't, but it's like a new year's resolution: You make them with the best of intentions.
We got onto the freeway, and I breathed a sigh of relief as we made the turn off of the 101 and onto the 217. Getting off at Hollister, I went immediately to the Exxon Station. I filled up, and called around to make sure that anyone else we knew in the area was ok. We tried to locate her cell phone, and we thought we heard it in the car, but it seemed unlikely.
Getting back to our place, we stopped at our neighbors who had a TV and asked if we could tune in to see if there was any new news about the fire. Jeff and Leah are the most awesome neighbors anyone could ever ask for. They invited us in, and when they heard about Tabitha's ordeal, immediately offered her some wine, which she readily accepted. While watching, they practically insisted that we eat some leftovers they had (a *wonderful* combination of pasta, garlic, Parmesan, and cauliflower), we sat and watched the fire devour more than a few homes.
We returned a few things to the roommate that I forgot I hadn't given her at our previous encounter. She was surprised that I had thought to bring her PCMCIA wireless card as well as her laptop and power supply (hello? geek here!), as well as a box that had Bond Certificates in it.
We then made the trek out here to my parent's place. And here I sit, at 0146 in the morning. The news reports that we read at the time seemed to suggest that, barring a miracle, my GF's house was nothing more than crispy crunchy ash.
We got out the critical stuff at the time: laptop, majority of day-to-day clothes, medicines. We even found the cell phone after a bit of digging.
But, all this would not have been possible had one person not been at his station, and helped us out: Sanford, I owe you big for this one. Next time you get up here, it's Middleton's for you, my friend.
I made a stupid mistake early on in my last Computer setup (RAID0). As a result, I lost everything when one of the drives failed. I lost all of the emails that I had kept since 1995, all the funny pictures I had made or found online, all the love letters and IM fights, all my digital homework, programming files, all the goofy stuff I had been up to since 1996.
It felt like a past that identified me with my surroundings of the time had been lost; like a part of my life now had the capacity to fade away, the digital reminders of life previous to my current one were that much more tenuous. Easily lost, and with all likelihood, only being recalled when something jogged it, either in conversation or by association.
That is how I imagine it must have felt for her as we initally considered the house a total loss.
At the time, we made some attempt to quantify it: all her books, chick flick DVDs (which means the fire wouldn't have been ALL bad), all her clothes not in my car, her chair, bed (which used to be my brother's, then mine.), would be gone.
I had to make a restart when I bid adieu to those RAID0 drives (burn in hell you faulty 150GB Maxtors). It's a sick feeling. But at some point you can do nothing more but resolve that you are going to move on from that point.
So here is to holding out hope that her house is still standing, complete with books, knick-knacks, and one way-too-big-for-her-room chair.
However, if the chick flicks were to somehow go missing, I know *I* wouldn't shed a tear. :)
(present day, now)
We came to LA ahead of schedule to spend the weekend with my parents. Tonight, while cuddling on the couch after swing dancing, I noticed the smell of fire. Having been in the proximity of fire so recently, I dismissed it as being attached to various pieces of clothing that were involved in the fire. Come to find out that it was actually the Sylmar Fire that blew directly into my parent's direction.
So, we escaped the Montecito fire, only to be in the Sylmar fire. Aren't we lucky?
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