Caustically Optimistic

Forgive me, Vicki, for I have sinned…

It’s been four months since my last trip to IKEA.  I needed something to reorganize my closet and my shoes.  I subscribe to the idea that one shouldn’t have to move more than one thing to get to another and my current living situation made things a little ridiculous.  Its two hours up and two hours back (at least) to go to IKEA from here so I decided – wrongly – that going to any furniture outlet that would give me some organization for less than one-hundred dollars would do.  Going to IKEA in Cincinnati also means going to Jungle Jim’s and becomes an all day event, leaving me needing another day to put the furniture together and reorganize my corner of the world.  Buying locally would give me four hours less driving and would avoid a superfluous grocery trip. 

 If I had a nickel for every time I was wrong I’d have my down payment saved for my own house already. 

I picked something from Bed, Bath, and Beyond completely by chance.  I was at BB&B picking up a tie organizer that has worked well – but I have too many ties for one and needed another.  While I was in that part of the fifth ring of Hell I noticed the shelving I ended up with, a customizable nine-section shelf that would work and fit in the closet in my bedroom.  I realized that I hadn’t brought a coupon and felt that it might not be the best approach but decided that the small amount I’d save wouldn’t be worth driving home and back for a coupon.  Had I driven home I’d have started on my book review of the The Martian instead of engaging in this fool’s errand. 

I was pretty excited when I got home.  I did everything before building that you ought to do.  I read the instructions.  I checked to make sure I had the correct tools and all of the pieces.  I cleared an area to build.  I was confident, over-confident, and that’s when I should have stopped and just lit a pile of money on fire in the garage.  I had checked all the pieces but I hadn’t organized them into when I’d use them assembling the shelves and immediately screwed up.  The first pieces I put together I put together incorrectly.  To add insult to injury I took a step I normally skip: gluing the anchors in.  I used the small anchors instead of the larger anchors, and since I glued them in I couldn’t get them out.  

Dad tried to help me by drilling out the anchors but that only made the particleboard disintegrate, which also didn’t stop up from trying on the other piece I screwed up on.   I looked at my watch and realized that this is my only day to do this so I went back to Bed, Bath, and Beyond – this time with a coupon – and bought another shelving unit.  I realize that there was a more rational approach to this but I am in the self-destruct mode of my depression and spending more money seemed like the best way to go.  I have a top-shelf education and am successful in my line of work so surely I can conquer this shelving unit. 

Oh, it eventually went together and the Lord’s name wasn’t used in vain but it wasn’t easy or fun. 

I think the only words I said during my second attempt at this shelving unit was, “You aren’t Daniel, idiot.”  I re-read the instructions, my first article of faith is that I can do anything because I can read, and I can tell you this: these instructions are incomplete.  I had a resolution in 2011 that I would view every adversity in my life as a result of my own poor choices because if I was the one who was the problem I was also the solution.  I would like to take you back to 2010 and blame the person who wrote the instructions.  If pieces could go in an the shelving unit a number of ways ostensibly hold together but still be ‘wrong’ then one ought to include that information in the instructions.  

My number two goal for 2015 and beyond is to make enough money to never again have to assemble my own furniture.  I am not Daniel; I am an idiot.

God sends us this furniture to keep us humble.  That guy created the universe and everything in it and we think we can put together simple shelves to arrange our graven images because we have tools, education, and reason.  We also have ‘fire’ and this is what I should have done with the pieces that constituted the shelves. 

The instructions called for me to make an enormous hash symbol.  This was God laughing at me.  I think your use of the hash symbol, or tag, is overdone and you should seek help for your problems.  When I saw that it was the fifth sign it should stop.  I then had to attach sides and then top and bottom to the hash symbol.  This was the most backwards approach I’ve taken to furniture.  I also should have realized that I needed to turn the hash symbol one rotation so the holes drilled in the interior would hold secondary shelves (which I had bought because customizable furniture wasn’t a red flag in the first place).  

I realized at that point I could just detach the hash symbol from the sides, top, and bottom and simply turn it once and reattach everything.  When I thought the word, “simply,” it was the sixth sign.  I hadn’t glued the pieces of the hash symbol together – relying on the anchors because they’ll hold it all together once I Allen-wrenched in the top and bottom.  Two pieces broke off whilst turning the hash tag and then while I fixing that I broke a third.  If I had gone to IKEA I would have been snacking on a post-game frozen yogurt at that moment in time.  Luckily, I’m an idiot who had two shelving units in pieces so another half-hour later and I had cobbled together shelving. 

My seventh article of faith is that a meal shouldn’t take longer to clean up than it takes to cook, a project shouldn’t take longer to clean up than it does to accomplish.  The sixth, if you’re wondering, is that you have to stop what you’re doing and listen to “Don’t Stop Believing” whenever it comes on and not change the station nor hit skip on Pandora which is why I totally lost my train of thought.  It had something to do with, “cleaning the mess up took longer than assembling the shelves and I still don’t have enough room to put away all my shoes.” 

I could feel Vicki and Enzo looking down from their photograph, Harry Potter style, with disapproving looks.  Vicki and I love IKEA.  I have been to IKEA more times that I have been to a Walmart.  This is all well documented.  Vicki’s hometown has two IKEAs just to ensure she is served properly.  I should have stuck with what I knew.  I felt as if this could be my karma for all the times we embarrassed Enzo in IKEA and if it was then I surely deserve it.  We should fear, love, and trust in Enzo and not shame him in IKEA.  If this was indeed my karma for my crimes then my slate is clean and I can do it again.   

Bulk trash pick up is on Tuesday.  I’m tempted to tape the remnants of the other shelving unit together with the instructions in a zip-lock and watch to see who takes it but I don’t need that karma.  I sincerely hope that I like this new organization system because it can never, never be moved.  It’s the Ark of the Covenant or Jimmy Hoffa, the shelves are staying where they are and we aren’t going to talk about it. 

lace up and live

This weekend I went to the Grand Canyon.  I have a month left in Arizona and I want to make the most of it.  I went by myself because no one seemed to really want to go and there isn’t much worse in the world that dragging someone behind you to something you want to do that they don’t, but are going to out of a sense of obligation.  The one thing I was concerned about was that there would be no one to take pictures of me doing something foolhardy, which I am apt to do sometime between getting out of bed and getting back into it.  My to-do list, since I could walk has been: mischief, mayhem, and tomfoolery.  Granted, the Grand Canyon isn’t the place to unpack your shenanigans. 

In all honesty, I want to enjoy my life and get the most out of it.  I also believe God created this beautiful planet with the intention of us enjoying it, so I do.  I took what happened last Monday in Boston, and the week following, and decided that I was going to “lace up and live.”  I’m not going to wait on other people to get the most out of life that I can.  

When I arrived at the Canyon I set my watch to see what fraction of the four-hour drive I would spend at the canyon (3/8).  I was amazed at the beauty of the Grand Canyon and cannot express to you how pictures do not do it any justice.  However, I’m pretty sure you’re aware that I wouldn’t write you just to tell you, “It was so beautiful that I vomited butterflies and rainbows all over a tourist from Bratislava’s shoes.”  That’s not how I roll. So, assuredly I remind you: the Grand Canyon isn’t the place for you to unpack your shenanigans.  By this I mean: your shenanigans.  

While I was wandering about some people pointed out towards a ledge and shouted, “Look at that retard.”  Naturally, as a teacher - even one who hates it and can tell you how long it is until he retires (744 hours at time of press) – I looked for a person with a cognitive disability that the garden variety human would vulgarly and inaccurately classify as a ‘retard.’  I was truly terrified for a moment that someone had let their loved-one with a cognitive disability out of their sight and they wandered onto one of the unguarded ledge.  When I saw the person I clutched my pearls in disgust and lit a candle for them that Mrs. Curry might pray for their immortal souls.  I find that word offensive and will only abide it from practitioners who are qualified to actually diagnose the condition in the hopes they are using the antediluvian term out of reflex.

I was quick to berate the person because, let’s face it, people the layman would term a ‘retard’ isn’t so stupid as to wander to the ledge of the world’s deepest hole and peer over the edge.  If someone were so profoundly disabled it is possibly, however unlikely, that they would be so irresponsibly minded.  

Then I wondered (aloud, because everyone is entitled to my opinions and musings) how exactly he made his way to that ledge because, let’s face it I will be the one to run out there and do it, too.  I realize that I could have died out there: losing my balance and tumbling into the Grand Canyon. I don’t have anyone who depends
on me and no one needs me, I am entirely superfluous.  I’m sure people with propriety and responsibilities would view life differently but I only pretend to be wound tight. 

 I walked right to the edge of the Grand Canyon with all the chutzpah I’d use when expressing my opinions to anyone from Michelle Obama to Benedict XVI to my pupils and looked over the edge and nearly wet my pants like a garden-variety octogenarian.  If you think the Grand Canyon is impressive take a look at it with nothing betwixt you and whatever it is you worship.  Then the words from the Gospel according to Bono whistled through my ears, “all this, all this can be yours: just give me what I want and no one gets hurt.” 

 For all my declarations and assertions that I don’t need anyone in my life and I can enjoy adventure time on my own it isn’t strictly true and I realized that out on the edge of impermanence.  In a normal context I’d be with my sister, or my cousin Daniel, or Jeremy, or Emily and I’d hand them my camera before sauntering off to do something truly idiotic. 

Okay, it’s more a promenade or mosey than a saunter.  Don’t miss the point on purpose. 

Verily, I tell thee the truth: it’s not enough to ‘lace up and live,’ you need someone to take your picture and someone to be the bard who writes the songs people sing about your feats and folly. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

off a brass monkey

I hope for days that are uneventful.  Maybe a student says something clever or I say something funny during carpool but mostly I just hope for a day that is so painfully ordinary that they pass without mention.  Now my tenth collegiate debate partner, Anna, will point out that just stepping out the door with me is an adventure so I want to preface that with, “ordinary for my world.”  Today was a day like many others, it tried to trick you that today would be mundane and then it hid a surprise for you to find days later. 

I held up carpool leaving today because I was in a parent meeting where someone had something nice to say about me, which is incredibly rare.  I am the Kwisatz Haderach and my capabilities as an educator transcend space, time, and to a degree ‘logic’ and ‘common sense.’  I thought that this perhaps would be what made today unlike any other day – I went into a meeting with someone at my ‘school’ and went all the way through it without finding myself under a bus. 

 When I arrived at carpool Miller was on the phone – or not, who knows?  I could talk the ears off a brass monkey and have pretended phone calls because even I didn’t want to talk to myself.  Instead of listening to Miller’s phone calls I try to busy myself with losing a game of Words with Friends or shouting at feckless and unwitting pedestrians, as I did today, when I heard a hissing noise. 

At first I was afraid that it was her brakes because I sold cars so of course I’ve learned the names of several of their parts as well as what those parts do and how they might sound when they fail catastrophically.  After examining everything in the vehicle that could be making the hissing noise we were hearing, Miller called into Miller Headquarters where HQ decided that the sound issued forth from a gila monster.   Miller HQ is almost never wrong so I said, “If you weren’t operating a vehicle, Miller, I’d look back there and scream like a girl.” 

The noise was starting to scare us because whatever it was it wasn’t ‘good’ so it was voted upon and since I am wearing the red shirt (really a blue one with red stripes) I must not only go on the away mission but I must die for Miller, her Subaru and the glory of Miller HQ!  I set down my phone, took off my glasses, and crawled back to the cargo area of Miller’s car where I saw it: science in progress. 

Anyone who knows me knows that I abhor math and science and to me science is merely ignorance and superstition wrapped in a riddle.  It wasn’t a gila monster or a terrible reptile of this part of America that makes me rethink who really won the Mexican-American War or even a soda that was slightly open and releasing pressure, but as I screamed in my best 1980s horror movie girl scream: MILK!  If I had the choice between being fucked up by a gila monster, going back to my job next year or even just in the morning, or having a jug of three-days-in-the-Subaru milk blow up in my face I’ll take the gila monster. 

And, yes, a gila monster being in Miller’s Subaru is just as likely as anything being in Miller’s Subaru. 

I know what milk can do to the interior of a car and to quote Chaos Bean, “Humans are the only animals that drink milk as adults and they do that because they’re stupid.”  Milk is a dangerous, vicious liquid that I would profess intolerance of if I weren’t intolerant of so much already.  All these people protest my love of Diet Coke, barely-coffee drinks from Starbucks, and beer but at the same time swill milk like there were no tomorrow and their bodies didn’t matter.  And here I was, in a Subaru with a milk bomb about to explode and sinking the ship and taking the crew down in the process.  

This doesn’t happen to vegans, and you know why?  They spend all their money on fancy groceries and cannot afford a swanky Subaru but also because their milk, milked from cows made of almonds, doesn’t contain the sins and iniquity of cow milk.  Almonds have never in the course of human history hurt anyone, at least not anyone in Miller’s Subaru or anyone that I care to be in a Subaru with.  Milk, however, is the enemy.  

I was truly terrified that it was going to explode at any second and we would die in the Subaru in a terrible part of Arizona that should really belong to the United States of Mexico instead of the United States of America!  I was about to sob when Miller crossed three lanes of traffic (which isn’t impressive, really considering the median age of a driver in Surprise, Arizona is ninety-three) and into a park-n-ride.

I leapt from the car and when I opened the car hatch warm water flew into my face, of course I assumed (because I’m an ass who assumes) was exploding milk precipitating another girl scream because you shouldn’t trifle with milk.  After much flailing on my part and professions of “Oh My God” from Miller, she came around the car with her iPhone cocked (because nothing disgusting should go undocumented).  I love that no matter what is going on, we must stop and pose with whatever disgusting thing we’ve discovered whether it’s a senator from Florida (Jo, I shame thee) or a public health hazard like this milk of ill repute, which we did!  I then tossed the ruined milk into a rubbish bin and waited – not to see if it would explode – but if I might retch upon it and not again into Miller’s Subaru. 

 
And this milk, milk which could have been sent to starving children in El Mirage or poured onto organic rice-puffs from Trader Joe’s never had a chance.  It never had a chance to grow up and be cheese or Kosher frozen yogurt.  It makes me sad to see such potential cut off before it can begin to truly shine.    Spilled Milk, I cry for thee! 

 

I spent the rest of the car ride inconsolable on the inside because there are only so many rides where Miller and my lives will be so imperiled by villainous groceries and other terrors of the Southwest but we’ll make the most of Arizona’s attempts to assassinate us.  

six million forms of communication

A long time ago, in the Midwest far, far away I was either in graduate school or student teaching but definitely adjudicating a debate round at a tournament run by Susan where, for the sake of argument, I was defined as the Pope and was being ‘persuaded’ by students from an evangelical school (ostensibly Cardinals) to change some part of Roman Catholic doctrine or practice.  Unfortunately, the students from the evangelical school had an acute misunderstanding of how the Curia worked and that an unfortunate disrespect for the Holy Father that even Lutherans don’t conceit.  

John Paul II was the Holy Father then and Benedict XVI was still Cardinal Ratzinger.  The proposition side had no idea that a few spring breaks prior I had an audience with the former and a beer with the later (James was with me for the both and he doesn’t even remember it, poor kid he had a the flu the whole trip).  The opposition, however, had been bored by this account of events because I will talk to anyone, including a fellow German at a German Restaurant in Rome.

This produced a ballot, five pages in length that was heavy on sarcasm, debate theory, and how the Roman Church works (again, in theory).  Those poor kids from the evangelical school had no idea how fun being the Vicar of Christ for an hour was for me and that mocking me (and my sacred role as the living embodiment of the will of God and the voice of the Holy Spirit) was nor how much they hurt my feelings by mocking my good offices.  They thought I was a proper Lutheran and would be with them on this.  They were wrong. 

The Pope, if you’re a Roman Catholic or not, is the human face of the church.  It is important who fills those red slippers even if it is a proper Jesuit who isn’t, strictly speaking, filling the slippers.  I was a citizen of Kansas for seven months and would personally never pass on red shoes. The reaction to the new Pope initially had me confused because of your reaction and the more I thought about it and discussed it with people whose opinions and philosophies I respect the more I realized I wasn’t confused, you were. 

You’ve been a liberal or progressive most of your life if not all of it.  I haven’t been and one of my greatest assets when used as a political operative is that I am fluent in six million forms of communication and two of those forms are “evangelical” and “conservative.”  It is why I am able to call them out on their shenanigans: I used to be one of them and now I’m not.  You don’t understand them and you keep trying to stuff conservatives and libertarians into your construct.  They don’t fit there, it is why the have their own.  It is also why you’re so confused about who was elected Bishop of Rome. 

I counted at least fifty posts on my social media feeds about the new pontiff being against several things that I am either for or not against.  However, I am thrilled with this new Pope because I understand how things work and this is the best we’re going to get 

Yeah, I’d like someone who was friendlier to the idea of the LGBT community’s desire to marry or had a more modern view birth control.  However, as my pastor pointed out: they elected a Catholic not a Unitarian.  I’m hoping for someone who’ll focus on the abuse scandals and social justice.  He’s a Jesuit who has lived life as a Prince of the Church but with humility and concern for the poor and downtrodden.  Looking at the people likely to be elected Pope did you think we’d do ‘better’?

Also, again: you’ve always been liberal or progressive.  I prefer the term, “progressive” because “liberal” is wrapped in the mantle of open-mindedness and respect for other people’s ideas when most of us are not; we just have different ideas, we’re not at all respectful of ideas that aren’t ours.  I have a black belt in keeping it real and to the chutzpah just to say that loud and proud. 

Honey, I love you, but you’re not going to find very many seventy-six year old, heterosexual men who are open-minded about family planning and the LGBT community. 

You learn to tolerate (and hopefully accept) no-you people through experience around and with those people.  Mammals aren’t keen on other mammals that aren’t from their pack.   This all takes time, practice, and often humiliating trial and error.  If you disagree go look up “shit people say” on YouTube.  I’ll wait.  

For example, I’m not as weirded out by “the gays” as some in my peer group (Army brats) because my uncle was gay and to my father and his other brother’s credit they never assigned judgment or value to the fact that he was accompanied by a man to everything family related and they were all married with children.  It was obviously different but it wasn’t ever pointed out.  I was in confirmation class before someone ever told me that this phenomenon wasn’t what some people had favorable opinions of.  My father and his brothers are pretty placid people bordering on boring but bring up your negative view of gay rights and it’s instant opinions and personality – but we’re adults now.

On the converse to that being an Army brat I grew up on garrisons from one end of the country to the other and in Europe.  It wasn’t unusual to see anyone doing any job regardless of color, creed, or gender (this was the 1980s and 1990s, sexual preferences hadn’t yet been mixed in) so when I went to University (my foray into the civilian world) or to visit my grandparents and someone would mention, “the blue doctor,” or, “the male nurse,” or any vocation proceeded by a demographic adjective it was all new to me.  I even had a college professor who warned against doctors who weren’t white or were dwarves. All this was normal to me but what wasn’t was a world where everyone was white and men did most of the jobs that required college (except for nurses).

 So, we get back to Pope Francis, and you’re worried about his stances on the LGBT community, birth control, and other things.  You’re not being fair on the issue of his opinions because they’re formed from his world, which is different than yours.  You and I grew up and live in a world where we mingle with all kinds of people.  We live in a world where it is more accepted or common for people that are different from us to be working side-by-side with us, participating in leisure activities, and breaking bread with us as part of our families and the Pope, frankly, did not.  If you don’t have experience with people outside your demographic and you’re not the type to seek those experiences out then you won’t be open to people.  If you’re not in a family unit then things like family planning, and possibly sexual relations, are mysteries to you or a theological or academic exercise. 

 Eventually we’ll have a pope that grew up with us in a world where things like family planning and the LGBT community aren’t abstractions or academic, theological issues but things that they’ve grappled with or experienced.  Then you’ll see someone more attuned to what you’d like to see coming from the Vatican. 

The other piece to this that confused me was why you cared.  You’re bravely who you are and you’re bravely living a life that hopefully your children and my children won’t find unusual when they’re our age just like they won’t find women running the Department of State or African-Americans in the White House abnormal.  Were you going to stop being who you are because he disapproves?  I’d disapprove of you if you did and my opinion is more important because unlike the pope I’m vicious. 

 What we do have, in this new pope, is someone who isn’t mired in the ineptitude of the Curia.  We have someone (so far) untainted by the sex scandals that has destroyed or damaged lives and besmirched the good work done by others in the church.  We have someone who has lived a life of scholarship, humility, and genuine concern for people less fortunate.  We have someone as the face of the church who isn’t an old white man from Europe but someone from a part of the world that is ‘developing’ and a man who took public busses and cooked his own food.  If either of my grandfathers were called upon them to cook they’d either live of cereal or starve. 

Try also to be the liberal you claim to be and show the open-mindedness that you expect from others.  You and I agree that some of his ideas are either wrong-headed or shouldn’t be imposed upon others in the province of civic life but we also claim that everyone is entitled to their opinions.  That includes opinions we disagree with. 

 

And give people a break once in a while, the world is changing rapidly – they’ll catch up - I did. I remain caustically optimistic they will, too. 

 

Forth of July

The Fourth of July is a time for us to trot out our faux patriotism but I am going to trot out some resolutions.  The Fourth is just a good a time as any.  I’m going to get back to teaching, that’s my resolution.  In the meantime, as I have no students to abuse, I will abuse you with a little lesson. 

For the love of Beyonce Knowles, there is a difference between, “virtually,” and “literally.”  ‘Virtually,’ means “almost, but not quite.”  Example?  This post is virtually like ‘The Oatmeal’ but isn’t that clever.  ‘Literally,’ is used for emphasis and to verify that you are, in fact, not shitting someone.  Example? I literally become enraged when people confuse homophones and heteroglyphs in their writing.  When in doubt don’t use either word, just shut up. 

In fact, shutting up more would be a great way for me to look less stupid but Mark Twain said, “It’s better to keep your mouth shut and be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt,” I think Mark Twain is a sanctimonious prick but really I’m just jealous that he got to be a professional sanctimonious prick and I only get to do it as a hobby. 

I’m virtually a professional smartass but Mark Twain literally was. 

Ideals and Ideas are not interchangeable.  Folksy isn’t cute or endearing; it’s why everyone likes Michelle Bachmann more than Sarah Palin.  Ideas are the things roaming around in our brains, you may not have one and that is why you get the words confused.  Example?  I have a great idea: there is a medication for this guy’s problem.  Let’s take up a collection so he can go on his meds.  An ‘ideal’ is either something expressed in perfection, a really good example or sometimes a belief.  Example?  George Washington was the ideal president because he generally stayed beyond the partisan fray. 

The ideal situation is one where we can express our ideas clearly to one another so there is no misunderstanding. 

The second thing I’d like you to wrap your brain around are some commonly misspelled words and phrases.  I read status updates on Facebook and tweets on Twitter and have a hard time understanding people. 

It’s good riddance, not “good riddens,” unless there is something called a ‘riddens’ and it’s quite good.

“A lot,” is two words (not one) while oddly enough, “motherfucker” is one word instead of two.  You shouldn’t be using either of those words if at all possible.  If Chaos Bean isn’t using it I have no idea why you need to run out and do it.

There isn’t an ‘r’ in wash, washing, or Washington.

'Jew' is a noun, not a verb, and while the English language is incredibly malleable in that regard if you have a friend (me) who is Jewish in the religious, cultural, or biological sense it comes across as incredibly rude and borderline hateful.  I realize that in the proper context I do that but it’s the same principle as people of African descent using the “n” word.  They say it and you cannot.  If it is improper to say the ‘n’ word, retard, and gay then it is probable that Jews be afforded the same respect.  Also, if we’re really as powerful and good with money as you claim we are why do you want to be on our bad side.  I realize that my use of it is bad and I should stop but there are some many vices I need to jettison before I get to that one.  This is one of the things that will get you on my list, forever. 

I need to learn the difference between affect and effect; I know I’m not perfect.  I’m not asking you to finally use ‘who,’ and ‘whom,’ correctly: these are simple things and while they’re not as exciting as watching rednecks turn left for the three hours it is still important. 

Unfortunately, this post will be commented on by dozens of people who will pull out their best invective knee slappers full of language abuse.  Emily will most likely start this, she always does, but we all have our prejudices when it comes to language use and these are the ones I hold dear. 

You can use prepositions at the end of sentences – there is no codified rule about that – and you can use double negatives for emphasis; both require the same amount of skill required to properly engage a semi-colon.  I realize that wasn’t germane to what we were talking about but Germaine wanted me to bring it up. 

 

 

 

 

 

finished ranting

I wonder if people really like the Dave Matthews Band or if they’re secretly jealous that our parents had the Stones, the Dead, and the Beatles.  I also wonder if it’s “Dave Matthew’s Band” or “Dave Matthews Band?”  I really don’t care that much.  I know people who have problem being friends with people whose politics or religion are different or diametrically opposed to their own but I’m neither “that person,” nor a big fan of music but I have a hard time being friends with someone who likes the Dave Matthews/Matthew’s Band.  We all have our own prejudices and anyone who says they accept all people freely and don’t judge is only lying to themselves. 

I’m not a Republican (the Rolex was a gift). 

I’m annoyed at this guy who made a mockery of my whole faith the other day by saying when the “rapture” was going to happen.   First, it shows a clear lack of keen Biblical scholarship because Christ is clear about no one knowing when He’ll return.  Second, the rapture concept is as extra-Biblical as the Easter Bunny.  The idea dates back to the revival movements in the 1800s in America where people started making money off works righteousness in America.  If another Pentecostal person tells me that I “don’t understand the end times,” I’ll point out that the fixation with the “end times” shows that they don’t understand Jesus or the Gospel.  That whole school of thought rejects Christ’s Gospel on its face and seeks to use fear of Hell (and the aversion to eternity there) as premise for faith in and following Christ.  That’s not why you should follow Christ and it isn’t the purpose of the church.  Jesus wasn’t a judgmental cracker wandering Judea frightening people about Hell.  Sure, Jesus would be the first to tell you to, “go and sin no more,” but if you look at his teaching it’s a far cry from what passes for his Gospel in the “Bible Belt.”

It’s hard to find someone trying to facilitate a conversation while also being a judgmental cracker.  It doesn’t happen in pairs. 

What I really wanted to be indignant about was the people who were making fun of someone’s religious beliefs but it’s hard to be when that set of people long for persecution.  Americans aren’t persecuted so we have to make up persecutions.  When the preferred party is out of power that’s persecution (instead of Government of, by, and for the people being non-me/other people this cycle) or that our parents didn’t love us ‘enough,’ or whatever.  We don’t have real problems so we invent some and it’s usually directed at people with real problems wanting to better themselves.  Like people who want affordable health care or immigrants.

 You can tell when someone hugs you and means it and you can tell when they don't. 

That one kills me, it really does, because everyone came here from somewhere else (sorry, “Native Americans,” science went and proved your ancestors got here first but walked from Korea).  Why did they come here?  Did they come here to take advantage of our education system and social programs?  Things like that are only believed truly by people unaware of how bad it really is here.  People come to the United States (and Canada) to make their lives better for themselves and their children.  How dare you begrudge that?  Oh, I agree they should come here legally but we pontificate upon that fact over meals provided by those same illegal immigrants we so detest usually in places cleaned and built by them.  It’s truly an American achievement to end slavery but find a way around it further south of us.

Also, I’d like to be mad at the people mocking someone’s faith but it’s amazing that the mockers are better informed than their victims.  They’ve read the Bible, they’ve learned the basics and beyond.  Yet people believe what their told despite being able to open the book they believe without error and have the author practically screaming at them that they are on the wrong path.  And truly, are you a victim of mockery if you’ve endeavored to be mocked?  If you’ve made yourself a walking joke should you get to be sad or be pitied?  If you invite something into your life do you get to be mad it’s there? 

That isn’t to say that I believe in a namby-pamby who wanted us to overlook each other’s faults and failings, sins and foibles and just love each other while braiding flowers into our hair.  Jesus was pretty clear about things and behaviors he thought were right and wrong, he wasn’t a dick about it like people who pretend to be his followers.  Sure, he wouldn’t be cool with gay marriage but allowing the gays to marry isn’t an assault on traditional marriage (whatever that is) that’s the divorce.  Divorce is frontal assault on the sanctity of marriage.  You let the gays alone and let them settle up with Jesus, worry about your own self. 

Why do I bother?  These are the people you see at Six Flags during the summer in shorts and t-shirts with ‘their women’ in long sleeves and heavy denim skirts.  Irony, inconsistency and cognitive dissonance are what they feed off. 

You know what my real problem is?  What’s really bothering me?  I’ll tell you because I’m pretty sure that by now you’ve stopped reading: I have a friend who’ll call, text, and e-mail you near to death about his problems but if you so much as mention they got your hamburger wrong at lunch or that your grandmother felt it was important to tell you that she never loved you and is disappointed the grandchildren she actually liked didn’t show up they have to hurry off the phone and put a sealant on the deck.  That isn’t what bothers me.  What bothers me is that I dutifully listen (and care) knowing damn well that I don’t have someone to soak up MY bullshit. 

 I’m finished ranting. 

 

 

 

saturday

On Saturday someone I respected and learned a great deal from was killed in Tucson along with the other people at the Safeway.  It’s very easy to be very angry in those situations and I am still angry.  Actually, I’m pretty heartbroken and I don’t know why exactly. 

Things like Saturday are more disturbing and disquieting to me than things like 9/11 because 9/11 wasn’t perpetrated by members of community, our neighbors, it was done by outsiders.  There is something different about someone breaking into your own and burning it down and quite another thing for someone who you live with to commit that crime.  

I’ll throw some blame around.

First, and foremost, we live in a culture that is very quick to assume, judge, and scold.  I posted something on my Facebook and no sooner had I done that and my aunt was calling it, ‘disturbing,’ and, ‘uncalled for.’  The media was doing the same thing and we all followed along making our own comments and conjectures.  Yes, the right had nothing to do with it but what do you expect people to think when a center-left politician’s gathering is turned into an assassination attempt/massacre?  Who might you blame if the tables were turned?  

Second, we almost never step into someone else’s shoes.  When something horrible happens we don’t want to be blamed for it – especially when there might not be someone to blame sometimes bad things happen at Safeway.  However, when someone accuses me of something I ask, “What would make people thing that?”  If I don’t like what I’m being blamed for maybe I need to stop doing things that make me seem guilty.  I’m sorry but when a politician puts crosshairs on someone’s district or another is going around talking about second amendment solutions to problems and you have a movement that co-opts the language of revolutionaries you can’t then – when bullets start flying – expect the people those politicians sought to disenfranchise not get nervous.  What did you think was going to happen with all that vitriol? 

Had you stepped in our shoes for a moment you’d understand where we are coming from, too.  I have no idea what my aunt assumed I was talking about – I’d like just one member of my family that I knew I could talk to, ever, besides a centenarian who can’t hear me on the phone – or stopped to see where I was coming from.  Some I knew, someone I worked with, had been killed.  If my life had a more fortunate trajectory it could have been me at that Safeway.  During the Obama Campaign there were several tense moments where you feared that what happened in Tucson was going to happen.  That morning the very worst of our very real fears came to fruition. 

There needs to be accountability for the things people are saying and doing as well.  The shooter didn’t shoot because Sarah Palin or anyone else had put targets and crosshairs on people.  The shooter didn’t shoot because our politicians and pundits are simply out of control and say whatever to get a reaction from people who don’t care about the consequences.  However, it doesn’t help a person who is emotionally and mentally troubled when people who are supposed to be executing and safeguarding our democracy are instead validating their delusions of what is and is not appropriate.  Further, if Sarah Palin, Keith Olbermann, the people at the Daily Kos or Sharon Angle were seventh graders they’d be expelled for their actions and words.  That’s something to consider: we don’t accept this from our children but it’s perfectly acceptable for pundits and aspiring leaders. 

During the last Senate campaign our Attorney General ran an ad against (now) Senator Paul that questioned his faith based on the most absurd story ever contrived and lost because of that ad.  While my faith in the Attorney General was shaken I was heartened when our Representative said he’d not have run the ad and condemned it and so did several Democratic senators.  No one did that with the crosshairs or the ‘second amendment solutions,’ not from their parties, and that disturbs me. 

When we devalue the process and cheapen discourse we also devalue and cheapen our leaders and ourselves, and ultimately their lives (and ours).  

Third, there are people that pretense to this being a Christian nation, a developed nation, a nation that leads the free world but we have an education system and a health care apparatus that completely failed this young man.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sat in meetings as a teacher and advocated for help for kids to have it pushed back at me.  I’ve even had my career scuttled for taking up for a child that without help could end up like this.  If we’re not talking care of and caring about our weakest members of our community of course this will happen to us and to our leaders.  We can’t call ourselves people who fear, love and trust God and live in a just and equitable society when we’ve failed to help this person and at the very least put him in a situation where he isn’t a threat to himself or others.  Conservatives would do well to look upon education and health care as an investment in their own future and in the future of the country they love. 

So, if I am going to blame someone I am going to blame myself and the rest of society because we’re too quick to assume, we’re too quick to be hateful, we’re too quick to tear down the institutions meant to protect us and painfully slow when it comes to taking care of each other and doing what’s right for one another.  

My heart is broken.  Maybe it is because this isn’t America and the behavior isn’t American.  We can live together in peace and disagree vigorously using appropriate metaphors and symbolism.  We can take care of each other as a community and make sure that we’re not just safe from the faceless fears across the sea but from the faces we see each day in our own communities.  Sarah Palin delightshe in taking the First Lady's statement about being proud of America out of context, please take this in context: I'm ashamed of us.  We can do this, but we won’t.  This golden opportunity to adopt some civility will be wasted due to a lack of introspection and gumption.  Why?  It’s easier to tear down than it is to build up.  

This is a America where the only real Christian concept we embrace is that of rebirth and another chance.  No one is going to take this opportunity to turn the rhetoric and the hate down and move toward helping each other towards a better tomorrow but I will even if you won't and I'm alone in doing it.  

 

I Need Another Story…

I was given an iPad for my birthday.  I’ve become an app aficionado; I especially like the free ones.  I’ve transferred this to my iPhone as well with the multitasking.  My favorite app is the Kindle app.  Emily and I were discussing the usefulness of the app and how it’s on every platform either of us encounter. 

 

Emily and I are experts and making observations and passing judgments.  Sure, it’s a great application but when was the last time you needed 3,500 books at your fingertips?  It’s like my iPod being able to hold enough songs to drive from New York to Los Angeles and back without hearing the same song twice.  When are you going to do either of those things?  If I read one book a week I’d read fifty-two books a year and I would read 3,500 books in a little over sixty-seven years.  I’ll be one hundred years old by the time I accomplished that task.  Luckily, you can access your books on your Kindle app anywhere on any device.  Evidently, when I’m at Saint Luke’s waiting for Jesus I’ll be able to access it on whatever Steve Jobs has cooked up for us.

Yes, I think that somehow Steve Jobs is going to outlive us all. 

Emily says that I cannot read that many books, ever.  I’ve read The Count of Monte Cristo, The Son of Monte Cristo I & II, Pride and Prejudice, and Isaiah on my iPad.  I’ve also read the Gospel of Luke, Harry Potter and the Incredibly Long Camping Trip, Santa Evita, Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, and The Hobbit in the traditional print format.  I’ve read another things and I can’t remember what they are but there you have ten books before this year began.  I’m not going to count those but I did start Les Miserables and Treasure Island on Christmas and I am going to count those. 

Can I read 3.500 books between now and Great Grandma Johnson?  No.  Can I read a book a week from now until I die?  Yes. 

There are some rules, I can’t count Philemon but I can count the Acts of the Apostles.  I can’t count Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day but I can count longer chapter books.  I can also inflict terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days upon people but that’s another contest.  Books found in traditional print can count as well as books that are found on Kindle format.  Technical manuals for work don’t count but if I read a cook book, informational text, or work of theological drudgery I will count it. 

I’ll report my findings here, because above all else, this keeps me honest.  So far my schedule is Treasure Island on the iPad and Les Miserables in the traditional printed format.  After that I’ll read The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (it was suggested to me by the Bald Librarian).  I adore librarians and aspire to one day be one. 

You can suggest books but note that I read Pride and Prejudice because I thought it was going to give me advice about being more prideful and more prejudicial and Suburban Island suggested the book.  Nature abhors a vacuum and I abhor Jane Austen.  I’ll take suggestions but if the book involves vampires or was written by Stephen King know in advance that I’ll ignore you. 

I’d try to make this more interesting but I have to read…

 

meeting notes - 2010

I was reviewing my notes from meetings I’ve had this year and decided it was wise to destroy those notes because I don’t really take notes about what is going on the meeting but my snide observations about the world.  Here are a few of them:

I’m going to name my daughter “Apostrophe.”  Apparently, I’m the only person who knows what an apostrophe is and everyone will think it’s a Greek name. 

Maureen Dowd was correct: people who want English as the official language are terrified of those of us who are fluent.

If you have to say (several times) that it’s not a dictatorship then it probably is. 

Tearing people down doesn’t build you up, unless you’re clever like I am. 

Alexandre Dumas was right: we don’t suffer because the Good Lord hates us.

 If they sell more than we (you) do then their process isn’t broken – ours is.  If our system is superior we should be outselling them.

 The first step in fixing a problem is: owning the problem; not blaming someone else.

The English language evolves but I’m pretty sure we haven’t abandoned grammar, not completely. 

Few people are as important to your career as your tailor.  There is nothing wrong with buying off the rack, but do you have to look like you just bought it at Target?

I don't understand how someone can eat food from a drive-through with the same vigor and enjoyment of, say, a fine French or Japanese meal.  

 

 

all apologies

Someone at work really irritated me, irritated me so much I went to the trouble of trudging up the steps to the HR department to complain about the situation.  The person, hours later, came by and tried to apologize for the situation and I refused to accept the apology.  I know that going to HR is pretty lame but as I told the person, if I thought we were capable of having a man-to-man talk I’d not have gone.  I also don’t accept apologies that are forced upon the person offering them. 

I almost never apologize for things I’ve done, mainly because I’m a sociopath and I’ve planned out most of the things I’ve done.  I can’t be sorry for something I meant to do, especially after all the careful planning I’ve laid out.  The other times I’ve been asked to apologize for something it’s been a situation where I’ve expressed (usually under duress) my opinion on a topic.  I don’t think I should have to apologize for your having stuck your hand into my cage. 

My godmother thinks I’m autistic but autistic isn’t code for asshole.  People, especially my godmother, don’t jump in front of busses when they make situations awkward for me or say something that offends me so I’m not running out to do it either.  This is America, I may not be entitled to health care, a job, or personal security from all the people we’ve set out to piss off around the world but I am entitled to my opinions and my actions. 

I was at dinner a few weeks ago and was verbally attacked by someone who was also at this dinner and people who I was under the misguided impression were my friends sat by and watched.  Two things should have happened, first they should have changed the subject and second they should have warned their friend who he was attacking.  I am no one’s punk, my deference to my debate coach is often mistaken for this but it’s that I know the limits of my own powers.  It’s as Albus Dumbledore said, “It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends.”  I would never, never in the million years I’ve walked the earth allowed a friend to be bullied thus and wasn’t going to take it myself.

My point being, that’s a mistake that I haven’t made but had I made that mistake it wouldn’t have taken me five days to call said friend up and apologize for it.  I don’t feel like I have to accept that apology, nor maintain that friendship.  I mean, after five days, why bother?  Also, if you’re willing to let one friend bulldoze another (especially when that friend has stood up for you too many times to count) then do you really value that friend at all?  I submit that you do not.  Will we be friends again?  Were we friends in the first place? 

The problem that arises for me is that my faith dictates that I not only apologize but also accept apologies from other people. This is incredibly difficult because the human heart doesn’t want to do that.  I really don’t like admitting that I was wrong – even to myself – and I certainly don’t like receiving apologies. 

It’s harder to receive an apology than it is to make one.  You have to first relive whatever indignity is being discussed, then you have to endure the person’s explanation of their assholery, and finally you have to accept this crap.  If people could just keep it to, “I’m sorry,” I think I could handle it.  My other favorite component is where they try to get you to apologize as well.  I think the worst is when you find out MORE than you knew in the first place. 

This is the beautiful thing about faith: it compels you to do things you wouldn’t otherwise do.  It overcomes the animal in you; it overcomes your human impulses and makes you behave in a new and more beautiful way.  They say giving and accepting apologies makes you a bigger person but it’s the faith that guides you there that makes you a bigger person because to do it you need to believe in something bigger than you.