Technically speaking, nothing even happened. I was four or five yards out of my apartment, dog-eared copy of Wheelock's Latin in one hand, car keys in the other. It was late September in Texas, not hot but definitely not cool, so I wearing a knee-length summery dress. Nothing flashy, just cute.
He was standing on the other side of the parking lot, leaning in the window of a friend's running pickup, shooting the breeze. My boots pocked on the cement, and he looked over his shoulder and saw me. That much I attributed to human instinct and awareness of surrounding. It was when his gaze held that I got the first wrench in my stomach. My mind shifted into overdrive, generating reassuring thoughts. It was ten in the morning, it was light out, it was a good neighborhood.
I knew all these were true facts. Their comforting power waned as I continued across the lot to my car, and he kept staring. Not subtly, not glancing, a direct, blank-faced up-and-down stare. I gritted my teeth, kept my spine straight, and walked in measured, steady steps until I swung into my car, closed the door, and locked it.
This was not an outlying occurrence. It happens often, and to a lot of women. Stares in public places, honks when they're out for a morning jog, catcalls from across the street. Fight-or-flight adrenaline kicks up in those moments. Typically, I ignore it and just keep walking with a wrench in my gut that tells me to put a locked door, pepper spray, and maybe a firearm between myself and the guy in question.
I'm not saying here every guy who whistles at a girl is purposefully out to harass or attack her. The discomfort and fear isn't even an immediately conscious thing for me most of the time. It's my subconscious taking the factors at hand and running worst-case scenarios.
I don't have to process it consciously. My subconscious knows I'm a single, 120-pound, 5'8" female, and tells me to get the hell away. If it ever came down to an actual altercation, my chances are better than the average woman's simply because I'm pretty athletic, but they're not great by any shot.
That knowledge is terrifying. The resultant thought of being caught in a bad situation with no power to escape is paralyzing.
Sometimes I mention how these incidents make me feel acutely uncomfortable and like becoming a professional hermit. A lot of people - mostly other women - will agree, having had those experiences too. A lot of people - guys, mostly, but not always* - will say things like, "Well, it's because you're a hot girl/you look hot" or "Take it as a compliment."
I think often people who say things like this mean to be complimentary. I disagree vehemently with the underlying presumptions of these statements. "Well, it's because you're a hot girl/look hot" can presume the woman in question is the instigator simply by being female. It can presume a woman wearing flattering clothing should expect to get attention (and sometimes, is wearing certain clothing to get male attention) and should be alright with it.
I'm not saying I have a problem with men noticing that a woman is pretty or attractive.** It infuriates me that society often perpetuates the idea this objectification is acceptable.*** This can drift into dangerous territory in a hurry. "Well, she was hot" can rapidly devolve into "she was dressed to get attention" to "she was asking to be stared at", or, even worse, "she was asking for it."
This is not alright. I have not even touched on a Biblical perspective regarding this issue (a dear friend has written about that here, and I highly encourage you click over and read it - it's reassuring evidence some men do find this objectification trend deeply disturbing).
Even from a fairly neutral point of view, I have yet to hear a single reason that justifies some college boy leaning out of his truck window to yell, "Shake that ass!" as I run on the trail around campus.****
It isn't cute. It isn't funny. It sure as hell isn't excusable.
(Tangential/illustrative/amusing note: Some people have taken to compiling men's and women's Halloween costumes and comparing them side by side with little commentary.****)
______________
*I'm not stereotyping here - I am presenting facts of my (and others') past experiences.
**Obviously. It sort of helps with that whole perpetuation-of-the-human-race thing.
***I am NOT saying women don't objectify men. I am saying it happens more frequently the other way around, and that on a purely physical level, it's typically a lot more frightening for a woman to be objectified by a man than vice-versa.
****On a really tangential note, can I suggest popular culture is a detrimental influence on this issue? If I hear one more pop/rap song saying the good life is being surrounded by barely-/unclothed, suggestively dancing women...
*****Fair warning, there's a bit of profanity on this site, but it's illustrative of my point.
Monday, October 29, 2012
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Some confessions
It's that time of life where a lot of people I know are dating and getting engaged and married (not quite to the having-kids phase yet, thank goodness). I'm still at a point of next to total inexperience. Two dates (and that's a stretch to label them as such) total. That's it. I'm okay with that. I don't want to be engaged or married yet. I'm 21. It's not that time yet for me. Part of me does want to start dating at some point, and to take at least a couple steps down that road.
But an overwhelming part of me is terrified to the bone. Instinctively, I align myself closely with John Calvin's theology on the total depravity of man.* I do not trust people. I hate being open, I hate sharing deeply personal thoughts and feelings, and I hate with the passion of a fiery supernova crying in front of people.** I'm not saying I want to change my feelings on that matters so I share everything without discrimination. There is, I think, a healthy balance between being creepily open and completely paranoid.
I fall heavily onto the paranoid side of the spectrum, and that isn't a good thing. The thought of having to be emotionally vulnerable around someone makes me want to start digging that tunnel to China. If I think about it for too long, I start getting physically panicked, twitchy muscles and closing throat and everything.
So...yeah. I don't have much else to say. I have no answers on how to fix this. I can't fix this. This is something that's going to take time, prayer, and maybe a couple minor miracles.
______________
*But I thoroughly disagree with John Calvin's hatred of art. That's another dissertation, though.
**By my count, exactly ten people have ever seen me break down and cry. Yes, I've kept count. It's terrifically healthy, I know.
But an overwhelming part of me is terrified to the bone. Instinctively, I align myself closely with John Calvin's theology on the total depravity of man.* I do not trust people. I hate being open, I hate sharing deeply personal thoughts and feelings, and I hate with the passion of a fiery supernova crying in front of people.** I'm not saying I want to change my feelings on that matters so I share everything without discrimination. There is, I think, a healthy balance between being creepily open and completely paranoid.
I fall heavily onto the paranoid side of the spectrum, and that isn't a good thing. The thought of having to be emotionally vulnerable around someone makes me want to start digging that tunnel to China. If I think about it for too long, I start getting physically panicked, twitchy muscles and closing throat and everything.
So...yeah. I don't have much else to say. I have no answers on how to fix this. I can't fix this. This is something that's going to take time, prayer, and maybe a couple minor miracles.
______________
*But I thoroughly disagree with John Calvin's hatred of art. That's another dissertation, though.
**By my count, exactly ten people have ever seen me break down and cry. Yes, I've kept count. It's terrifically healthy, I know.
Friday, October 19, 2012
Dual Citizenship
Sometimes, it seems to me this are two worlds; there is the one in which we dwell and the other into which we can only chance to stray. Tolkien called it mythos. It is the world of dream, of imagination, of story, the birthplace of our legends. Most have grown out of awareness of its existence, though they enter it when they sleep and when they dream. All children know it; they live simultaneously in both worlds until they are told to grow up. A few retain their presence in this world, exploring it, loving it, knowing it, finding it impossible to explain except through their stories or sculptures or music. Many, upon reading or hearing or seeing these compositions, experience a resonance deep in their chests, the stirring of an unconscious memory.
Even the best forget, however. They fall out of the second world for any of a dozen reasons. A sudden hardship, a lack of faith, a forgetting of self - any of these will take a person by the collar and fling him out. And for a time, those thus ejected cannot find any entrances. They wander about bewildered, saddened, and not quite themselves.
Every entrance is different, corresponding to the resonance felt by those who have forgotten this realm. Sometimes an entrance is the sight of a child holding a flower, the smell of seasons turning, the sound of a perfect high C. Some returns happen in a blink. Some are slower, requiring more effort on the seeker's part, a trail of breadcrumbs back home. Trails lead to breaks in the wall or spaces where the veil thins.
I am at a thinning of the veil.
Even the best forget, however. They fall out of the second world for any of a dozen reasons. A sudden hardship, a lack of faith, a forgetting of self - any of these will take a person by the collar and fling him out. And for a time, those thus ejected cannot find any entrances. They wander about bewildered, saddened, and not quite themselves.
Every entrance is different, corresponding to the resonance felt by those who have forgotten this realm. Sometimes an entrance is the sight of a child holding a flower, the smell of seasons turning, the sound of a perfect high C. Some returns happen in a blink. Some are slower, requiring more effort on the seeker's part, a trail of breadcrumbs back home. Trails lead to breaks in the wall or spaces where the veil thins.
I am at a thinning of the veil.
Monday, October 15, 2012
On Qualities of Writing
I do still live. I just don't think I've had much to say, and I'm not going to post for the sake of posting. That writing usually emerges like stale coffee. No one wants that.*
Adjusting to a new city has been different than I expected. My problem today is having a limited number of people I know, much less to whom I can talk and not overwhelm. I would lay solid money on the proposition many of you (all three people who read this) have these days. The days where you have eighteen different trains of thought running at breakneck speed, and your mind is trying desperately to process them all, if for nothing else in the hopes of bringing some to conclusions so you'll sleep tonight. As I don't have anyone immediately available, I'm using this post to blow off some mental steam.
I'm nearing a point where I think I'll be able to write again. Fiction has been touch-and-go for me since freshman year of undergrad. It's no mystery why; my writing is still far too dependent upon how I view myself as a person. The connection is both frustrating and crucial. My writing changes as I change; nevertheless, I have to learn to uncouple my fiction and my self-perception to a greater extent, and learn to write outside myself. That is a difficult thing for me. I've become less mental (well, in some ways) and more okay with myself over the past couple of years in particular, but the moment I start thinking about my writing while I'm actually writing, the words scatter in the wind.
Madeleine L'Engle had this beautiful way of describing the creative process. As I don't have the particular quote on hand, I'm going to butcher it now in an attempt at summary. The essence of L'Engle's view is that creative process is a fine balance between gritty, dutiful work, application of time and effort, and letting the work be itself. This balance, I think, is exemplified in those times you're reviewing term papers, and come across a particularly beautiful or cogent phrase that you never recalled having written.**
I've stumbled across this balance a few times. Those are the moments I write half-consciously. The words happen; they knit themselves together into concepts and people and places. All I am, at that point, is a physical conduit to their concrete existence.
I have trouble letting the writing happen. That irks me. Because I know the qualities I wish my writing to possess. I want my words to be sharp and crisp and clean like the scent of pine on a winter night. I want characters to be multi-dimensional and plots to be stories both simple and layered at once.
It'll come, someday. The plugging-away-at-it in the meantime, however, is something at which I must continue.
(BTW, who's sad over the loss of Rory? Seriously. Hate you, Moffat, so much.)
____________
*Coffee grounds, on the other hand, are excellent compost material.
**Excessive amounts of caffeine and late hours spent in silent library cubicles can contribute to this sort of amnesia.
Adjusting to a new city has been different than I expected. My problem today is having a limited number of people I know, much less to whom I can talk and not overwhelm. I would lay solid money on the proposition many of you (all three people who read this) have these days. The days where you have eighteen different trains of thought running at breakneck speed, and your mind is trying desperately to process them all, if for nothing else in the hopes of bringing some to conclusions so you'll sleep tonight. As I don't have anyone immediately available, I'm using this post to blow off some mental steam.
I'm nearing a point where I think I'll be able to write again. Fiction has been touch-and-go for me since freshman year of undergrad. It's no mystery why; my writing is still far too dependent upon how I view myself as a person. The connection is both frustrating and crucial. My writing changes as I change; nevertheless, I have to learn to uncouple my fiction and my self-perception to a greater extent, and learn to write outside myself. That is a difficult thing for me. I've become less mental (well, in some ways) and more okay with myself over the past couple of years in particular, but the moment I start thinking about my writing while I'm actually writing, the words scatter in the wind.
Madeleine L'Engle had this beautiful way of describing the creative process. As I don't have the particular quote on hand, I'm going to butcher it now in an attempt at summary. The essence of L'Engle's view is that creative process is a fine balance between gritty, dutiful work, application of time and effort, and letting the work be itself. This balance, I think, is exemplified in those times you're reviewing term papers, and come across a particularly beautiful or cogent phrase that you never recalled having written.**
I've stumbled across this balance a few times. Those are the moments I write half-consciously. The words happen; they knit themselves together into concepts and people and places. All I am, at that point, is a physical conduit to their concrete existence.
I have trouble letting the writing happen. That irks me. Because I know the qualities I wish my writing to possess. I want my words to be sharp and crisp and clean like the scent of pine on a winter night. I want characters to be multi-dimensional and plots to be stories both simple and layered at once.
It'll come, someday. The plugging-away-at-it in the meantime, however, is something at which I must continue.
(BTW, who's sad over the loss of Rory? Seriously. Hate you, Moffat, so much.)
____________
*Coffee grounds, on the other hand, are excellent compost material.
**Excessive amounts of caffeine and late hours spent in silent library cubicles can contribute to this sort of amnesia.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Brokenness
Sometimes, in the nights, I have to cling to music. Bach, Vivaldi, Brahms. Because movements and symphonies are woven of structure and harmony, notes in sequence and keys that lift and stir and dance and mourn. They remind me there is cosmos, there is order in the chaos, there is beauty in the ugliness, and there is purpose and love eternally underlying and girding a broken world.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Coffee and Cathedrals
You know, I came here with plans to work off another juicy Dorothy Sayers quote. I've been reading a lot of her lately. School starts next week for me, and she's a good author for kick-starting the brain - not an easy read, per se, but nowhere near the brain-scrambling certain ancient Greek philosophers give me.*
Then I sat down at a new booth in a new coffee place. It isn't just a coffee house; technically, it's a restaurant with a coffee bar and a big beautiful silver espresso machine**, with bags of coffee lining the shelves.*** There's lot of semi-finished honey-colored wood, setting off antiqued clap-board walls, and massive windows, a rack of upside-down wine glasses hanging in the corner. The menus are in simple fonts, the furnishings are cared-for and rustic, like you might find deep in your grandparents' house.
I came in here a little tense from not knowing the area and trusting the wisdom of the all-knowing Google Maps, feeling a bit achy and tired from recent weather swings and allergies, and just a smidgen worn from moving to a new place where I barely know a soul. I've been here for fifteen minutes, maybe twenty. There are three, maybe four other customers in here, with a couple infants to boot. Usually, I dislike being in near-empty restaurants. This is pleasant, sort of like bobbing along in a calm lake.
Places are important. So are people, but the way a space sits, what fills it, in what order it is filled, these things matter. Spaces can impact attitudes. Sometimes, it's a subtle effect. I firmly believe the impact of physical spaces and locations is perilously underrated. Another coffee place I've visited was one sizeable open room, with chairs and tables arranged in the middle of the room in a big rectangle. Everything was visible from everywhere, and it all felt very public. It created a distinctly different atmosphere than this place, which has some high booth walls set to create the feeling of a little privacy, not the paranoia someone was always looking over your shoulder to your laptop screen.
If nothing else, think of a cathedral. A beautiful, Romanesque or Gothic cathedral, tall, marble, reaching for the heavens. Now think of the last few church buildings you've visited.
I'm not saying we should abandon the average modern church building, or that there is necessarily anything wrong with those structures. I am saying the architecture matters, the space matters. Craftsmanship matters. Someone deliberated and loved and cared for this space. It is not a feeling I find often, and it is a balm to the soul when I stumble into it.
______________________________
*I'm looking at you, Plotinus.
**Which, I've just been informed, is Italian, was the first of its kind to make it to Dallas, and originally priced around $18,000.
***The same kind of coffee used in my coffee house of choice in Waco, coincidentally. It's the little things.
Then I sat down at a new booth in a new coffee place. It isn't just a coffee house; technically, it's a restaurant with a coffee bar and a big beautiful silver espresso machine**, with bags of coffee lining the shelves.*** There's lot of semi-finished honey-colored wood, setting off antiqued clap-board walls, and massive windows, a rack of upside-down wine glasses hanging in the corner. The menus are in simple fonts, the furnishings are cared-for and rustic, like you might find deep in your grandparents' house.
I came in here a little tense from not knowing the area and trusting the wisdom of the all-knowing Google Maps, feeling a bit achy and tired from recent weather swings and allergies, and just a smidgen worn from moving to a new place where I barely know a soul. I've been here for fifteen minutes, maybe twenty. There are three, maybe four other customers in here, with a couple infants to boot. Usually, I dislike being in near-empty restaurants. This is pleasant, sort of like bobbing along in a calm lake.
Places are important. So are people, but the way a space sits, what fills it, in what order it is filled, these things matter. Spaces can impact attitudes. Sometimes, it's a subtle effect. I firmly believe the impact of physical spaces and locations is perilously underrated. Another coffee place I've visited was one sizeable open room, with chairs and tables arranged in the middle of the room in a big rectangle. Everything was visible from everywhere, and it all felt very public. It created a distinctly different atmosphere than this place, which has some high booth walls set to create the feeling of a little privacy, not the paranoia someone was always looking over your shoulder to your laptop screen.
If nothing else, think of a cathedral. A beautiful, Romanesque or Gothic cathedral, tall, marble, reaching for the heavens. Now think of the last few church buildings you've visited.
I'm not saying we should abandon the average modern church building, or that there is necessarily anything wrong with those structures. I am saying the architecture matters, the space matters. Craftsmanship matters. Someone deliberated and loved and cared for this space. It is not a feeling I find often, and it is a balm to the soul when I stumble into it.
______________________________
*I'm looking at you, Plotinus.
**Which, I've just been informed, is Italian, was the first of its kind to make it to Dallas, and originally priced around $18,000.
***The same kind of coffee used in my coffee house of choice in Waco, coincidentally. It's the little things.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Sayers; Words; Kim Kardashian
"At the present time, we have a population that is literate, in the sense that everybody is able to read and write; but, owing to the emphasis placed on scientific and technical training at the expense of the humanities, very few of our people have been taught to understand and handle language as an instrument of power." - Dorothy Sayers.
Sounds familiar, right? I can't pin down the exact date this essay was composed, but Sayers mentions the scarcity of eggs elsewhere, so I'm assuming this can be traced to World War II, or the period very shortly thereafter. We're talking sixty-five years ago. Now we live in a world with Twitter.* (I would love to get Sayers's take on Twitter. She possessed a biting wit bordering on and often traipsing into acerbity.)
Words have immeasurable power, but they are only tools; they are not possessed intrinsically of any particular morality. The purpose toward which they work is dependent on the person utilizing them. As things stand, most people use words for trivialities. Most do this simply because they have never been shown or understood the forces with which they play. This, on the surface, is tragic.**
The possible implications are more terrifying. There will always be some people keenly aware of the power they can hold when they write or speak. Some of these people will have moral objections to using this power in a manipulative fashion. Some will not. Those in the latter category will not hesitate to run roughshod over people who do not recognize the power of words. These people will be flattered, inflamed, and manipulated, with little recourse.
I could really go on here and start rambling about words as symbols and the connection to real meanings and Forms and Plato.*** But I won't, because I cannot even begin to do justice to the topic in a blog post.
Thoughts?
______________________
*I must confess, there is a Twitter account that perfectly encapsulates this phenomena of which Sayers speaks. The account contains the "philosophy of Soren Kierkegaard mashed with the tweets and observations of Kim Kardashian." It tweets jewels such as "Sunglasses & Advil... Where am I? Who am I? What is this thing called the world? How did I come here? ...last night was mad trill."
**It's like most college kids driving around carelessly in obscenely expensive sports cars they do not need and that their parents procured for them. This is not the best analogy, but the point's there.
***I do mean "rambling."
Sounds familiar, right? I can't pin down the exact date this essay was composed, but Sayers mentions the scarcity of eggs elsewhere, so I'm assuming this can be traced to World War II, or the period very shortly thereafter. We're talking sixty-five years ago. Now we live in a world with Twitter.* (I would love to get Sayers's take on Twitter. She possessed a biting wit bordering on and often traipsing into acerbity.)
Words have immeasurable power, but they are only tools; they are not possessed intrinsically of any particular morality. The purpose toward which they work is dependent on the person utilizing them. As things stand, most people use words for trivialities. Most do this simply because they have never been shown or understood the forces with which they play. This, on the surface, is tragic.**
The possible implications are more terrifying. There will always be some people keenly aware of the power they can hold when they write or speak. Some of these people will have moral objections to using this power in a manipulative fashion. Some will not. Those in the latter category will not hesitate to run roughshod over people who do not recognize the power of words. These people will be flattered, inflamed, and manipulated, with little recourse.
I could really go on here and start rambling about words as symbols and the connection to real meanings and Forms and Plato.*** But I won't, because I cannot even begin to do justice to the topic in a blog post.
Thoughts?
______________________
*I must confess, there is a Twitter account that perfectly encapsulates this phenomena of which Sayers speaks. The account contains the "philosophy of Soren Kierkegaard mashed with the tweets and observations of Kim Kardashian." It tweets jewels such as "Sunglasses & Advil... Where am I? Who am I? What is this thing called the world? How did I come here? ...last night was mad trill."
**It's like most college kids driving around carelessly in obscenely expensive sports cars they do not need and that their parents procured for them. This is not the best analogy, but the point's there.
***I do mean "rambling."
Thursday, August 16, 2012
In which I remember I like school
I know it's time for school to start when my map directions read "Commerce St Crowdus", and I immediately wonder who Crowdus was and why the church canonized him.
Seriously, though, I'm starting to miss writing papers - that building excitement when you finally ask the right question for your thesis. The silent cheer when you stumble across the perfect passage for your argument that you hoped existed but couldn't quite remember. The confusion and tentative self pat-on-the-back upon re-reading a cogent and artful paragraph you never recall having actually written.* I'm almost to the point of missing research and libraries and electronic databases, but not quite yet. I had a few bad semi-manic moments due to the sheer amount of time I spent in library cubicles last semester.
I think academia is stuffy and overblown. I also think the experiences it can provide, when managed well, are singular and extraordinary. It is a shame many of the books read in a well-rounded university education are only read in universities. It's all a matter of balance. Becoming too absorbed in academics leaves one incapable of dealing with real life, but there are many things discussed in academics that matter. Good, evil, beauty, love, friendship, ethics - these are important and need to be considered.
On a completely different note, I finally saw Dark Knight Rises. Selina Kyle and I would be friends. Good friends. Tom Hardy sold Bane, Alfred was good old Alfred, and Joseph Gordon-Levitt as Robin - well, I want one, please. Dadgum, he was adorable and driven and just...a good guy. And that "Rise" scene. And the army of cops. And the ending, really. I can't believe Nolan got away with that ending without excess sentimentality or triteness. Who writes like that?** *runs off to watch Inception again*
________________
*To borrow from Gaiman and Pratchett, in the back matter of Good Omens, oftentimes one's work starts to generate text on its own, with no authorial input.
**Wow, I just wrote a paragraph about Batman with no spoilers. I didn't know whether I could manage it.
Seriously, though, I'm starting to miss writing papers - that building excitement when you finally ask the right question for your thesis. The silent cheer when you stumble across the perfect passage for your argument that you hoped existed but couldn't quite remember. The confusion and tentative self pat-on-the-back upon re-reading a cogent and artful paragraph you never recall having actually written.* I'm almost to the point of missing research and libraries and electronic databases, but not quite yet. I had a few bad semi-manic moments due to the sheer amount of time I spent in library cubicles last semester.
I think academia is stuffy and overblown. I also think the experiences it can provide, when managed well, are singular and extraordinary. It is a shame many of the books read in a well-rounded university education are only read in universities. It's all a matter of balance. Becoming too absorbed in academics leaves one incapable of dealing with real life, but there are many things discussed in academics that matter. Good, evil, beauty, love, friendship, ethics - these are important and need to be considered.
On a completely different note, I finally saw Dark Knight Rises. Selina Kyle and I would be friends. Good friends. Tom Hardy sold Bane, Alfred was good old Alfred, and Joseph Gordon-Levitt as Robin - well, I want one, please. Dadgum, he was adorable and driven and just...a good guy. And that "Rise" scene. And the army of cops. And the ending, really. I can't believe Nolan got away with that ending without excess sentimentality or triteness. Who writes like that?** *runs off to watch Inception again*
________________
*To borrow from Gaiman and Pratchett, in the back matter of Good Omens, oftentimes one's work starts to generate text on its own, with no authorial input.
**Wow, I just wrote a paragraph about Batman with no spoilers. I didn't know whether I could manage it.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Lands.
Well, it's been a while. The afternoon after my last blog post, someone broke into my car, taking my purse, wallet, and phone. It's taken a while to recover from that, and I'm still not mentally settled about it at all. (On the plus side, I had some graduation money that covered most of the costs of getting the car window and phone replaced. iPhones are pretty cool. Just saying.)
Relocating to a new city is rough. I've moved many times in my life, but this is the first to a place I've never lived, completely on my own. I know about half a dozen people. While I'm making a lot of connections, I simply haven't been here long enough to have roots. It's making me think a lot about both sides of it - the importance of having a few people you can trust, and the importance of having a healthy amount of self-sufficiency. We need other people. It's an inescapable fact, one I don't care for on some days. On the other hand, leaning on others to the point of codependency is unhealthy and one of my least favorite character traits.
I don't have much of an argument or point to be made here. I'm just a little spiritually beat up at the moment, and writing is therapeutic, hence this little disorganized snippet.
On the plus side, Doctor Who Series 7 is slated for September 1. Who's excited?
Relocating to a new city is rough. I've moved many times in my life, but this is the first to a place I've never lived, completely on my own. I know about half a dozen people. While I'm making a lot of connections, I simply haven't been here long enough to have roots. It's making me think a lot about both sides of it - the importance of having a few people you can trust, and the importance of having a healthy amount of self-sufficiency. We need other people. It's an inescapable fact, one I don't care for on some days. On the other hand, leaning on others to the point of codependency is unhealthy and one of my least favorite character traits.
I don't have much of an argument or point to be made here. I'm just a little spiritually beat up at the moment, and writing is therapeutic, hence this little disorganized snippet.
On the plus side, Doctor Who Series 7 is slated for September 1. Who's excited?
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Lessons; ramblings; homicidal elves
I have a lot rattling around half-formed in my subconscious, but this weekend about killed me. I have not been this weary since my last round of finals. It's that heavy, stultifying exhaustion that clings to one's bones and throws a dark cloud over everything.
Thankfully, it should pass soon*. I am completely finished moving to the big D now, in more than a few ways. While I have moved many times previously, this one has been easier and more difficult in many ways. True, I was only in Waco for two years, but they were important years. I fell into an actual group of friends for the first time. I became a little less socially clueless. I learned what it was like to have to work hard at school. I realized how important great books are, and how unimportant great books are. Perhaps most crucially, I started being okay with being me.** On the more painful side, I've learned some friendships simply aren't meant to last, and that forgiving people does not mean I have to remain in a state of friendship with them. Some people are jerks, and I can't change that. Such is life.
That got heavier than I was intending. Happy things. Kittens and rainbows. Series 7 of Doctor Who. Lamborghinis. Swimming pools.***
Oh yeah, apparently Peter Jackson's turning The Hobbit into a trilogy, drawing on Tolkien's appendices for material. Y'all heard that? My excitement and apprehension are evenly balanced right now. If anyone can do it, Jackson can. He'd have to. The outrage over a poorly-done or made-for-the-money third film would be catastrophic. Let's face it, some nut dressed as Legolas would try to take out Jackson with a bow and arrow while swearing vehemently in Elvish.****
This post didn't start with an infinite amount of immanent design, and what little organization there might have been is dwindling, so I'll just conclude here. Have a good week, everyone!
______________________________
*Honestly, I think half of the raging headache I have is due to all the Clorox fumes I inhaled yesterday in the Last Great Apartment Cleaning. I know the upper back tension is due to the file cabinet I wrestled down a set of stairs.
**I owe a couple people beyond what I can repay for assisting on that front.
***It's 104 degrees here. I love Texas with the exceptions of the summertime and the high school football craze.
****We all know it's true. Also, I am not saying anything negative here about someone dressing as Legolas. I went to a Dallas-area comic-con last year as Amy Pond. I would be, however, infinitely critical of someone dressing as Legolas with the purpose of assassinating Peter Jackson over a bad movie.
Friday, July 27, 2012
Moving; Faith; Power Cords of Death
Well, my computer is being recalcitrant again and not
connecting to this coffeeshop’s internet. I find this vaguely funny,
considering I set up the router in my new apartment not three hours ago. However,
I do not possess the appliances (or skill set) to whip up a mocha in
my apartment, so the trip was worth it.*
As you might have gathered, I just moved. I’m starting grad
school this fall in Dallas, which is the only major city in Texas in which I
have not previously lived. It’s been a crazy summer. So far, I’ve put 5,000
miles on my car, played two Ultimate tournaments, shot a lot of .9, had a record number of good conversations, survived a near-miss with electrocution,** and fished a segment of
utility knife out of my disposal.***
Ha! There you are, internet!****
I did have a point behind all that rambling. It's been a rollercoaster summer with all kinds of terrific days and stupid mishaps. Some days were so unexpectedly terrific I felt like I had an aureole of happiness sort of emanating from my person.***** Other days involved things going wrong that were so simple I didn't think they could have gone wrong.******
It was a lot easier to trust God on those good days, the days where the sun shone and I all but skipped along with Disney bluebirds chirping around my head. I felt like trusting and believing. Those other days with headaches and sleep deprivation entailed a lot more choice. I may not have felt like trusting or believing, but faith has no purchase in feeling. Sometimes we just have to suck it up and plow through and know things will turn out how they're supposed to, even if we don't exactly understand the end game.
I realize this is something that's been said/shared/written about a million times over, but that's been my last week. How has yours been?
Edit: I'm not sure about the clientele here. The barista is currently explaining the very basics of Lord of the Rings to a vacantly giggling customer, because she's heard of The Hobbit movie and has no idea what it's about. Not to mention the chick wearing a transparent lace top over nothing but a bra or the other girl in gratuitously short shorts and heels. I realize I drift toward intellectual snobbery at times, but where do these people come from, and will you join me in a period of collective mourning for society?
Then again, this chair is really comfortable, the mocha was superb, and cute-guy-in-the-button-up looks a bit like Tahmoh Penikett, so I'm okay with that. I would come back here.
Oh, good, I did get a nice nerd reference in there. I was worried for a moment I was slacking off.
Then again, this chair is really comfortable, the mocha was superb, and cute-guy-in-the-button-up looks a bit like Tahmoh Penikett, so I'm okay with that. I would come back here.
Oh, good, I did get a nice nerd reference in there. I was worried for a moment I was slacking off.
*What cracks me up is the magazine clipping by the register. It was clearly written by someone older with little grasp of popular technology, because the article mentions "a lot of twenty-somethings absorbed in their Dells." I see a lot of glowing half-bitten apples. I feel like a PC pariah.
**This occurring five minutes after I signed my lease, of
course. Sadly, as things popped, and sparks flew from the dryer cord, and I backpedaled away, all I
could think of was this: http://xkcd.com/616/.
***Seriously, who with three firing neurons drops crap like
that down someone’s disposal?
****Thank you, cute guy in the button-up for providing the
password. You win.
*****It's a sort of warm, peach-colored light.
******I'm looking at you, dryer cord, you wretch.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Summer Soldiers and Sunshine Patriots
"These are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives everything its value.” - Thomas Paine
The last day has been whirlwindish*. I walked through my parents' front door for the first time in two weeks to find out my uncle had a heart attack yesterday morning. I'd been expecting that call to be about my grandfather, who's been suffering from Parkinson's for over a decade. As details emerged, I found my uncle, through recognition of pre-heart attack pains, had known what was about to occur. He'd taken aspirin and promptly dialed the ambulance for himself.** They're considering placing a picture of him near the encyclopedia entry on "prescience." At the moment, he is relatively stable, and doctors are debating whether to insert more stents in his heart or go straight to bypass surgery.
It has been a sobering and humbling 24 hours that's seemed twice as long. People I expected to get in touch didn't, and people I contacted out of desperation for more intercession called and prayed over the phone. I've learned a few things. Scares have a way of doing that. They strip away the effluvia of life, the stupid, petty things we deem necessary until the raw shock of the unexpected clears our vision***. They certainly possess the power to force us to evaluate our bases. On what do we depend, do we stand, do we presume shall remain firm beneath our feet?
Scares tend to make one either shut off or completely vulnerable. I don't much care for being vulnerable. The act of being open entails far more trust than I often feel comfortable giving. That's okay sometimes; people cannot always be trusted. It's when I have a dearth of trust in God that the problem starts. Trusting people is risky business, to be sure, but it is sometimes necessary.
I am so thankful for the people who immediately began praying and have continued, and will continue. The simple act of telling someone you care and are involved means so much.
I don't know a better way to conclude than to quote an old song: On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand, all other ground is sinking sand.
_______________
*Shut up, Chrome, I know it isn't a word your prosaic dictionary accepts. I'm a writer. I can make up words if I so deign.
**Yeah, he's a pretty cool uncle.
***'Effluvia' is such a good word.
The last day has been whirlwindish*. I walked through my parents' front door for the first time in two weeks to find out my uncle had a heart attack yesterday morning. I'd been expecting that call to be about my grandfather, who's been suffering from Parkinson's for over a decade. As details emerged, I found my uncle, through recognition of pre-heart attack pains, had known what was about to occur. He'd taken aspirin and promptly dialed the ambulance for himself.** They're considering placing a picture of him near the encyclopedia entry on "prescience." At the moment, he is relatively stable, and doctors are debating whether to insert more stents in his heart or go straight to bypass surgery.
It has been a sobering and humbling 24 hours that's seemed twice as long. People I expected to get in touch didn't, and people I contacted out of desperation for more intercession called and prayed over the phone. I've learned a few things. Scares have a way of doing that. They strip away the effluvia of life, the stupid, petty things we deem necessary until the raw shock of the unexpected clears our vision***. They certainly possess the power to force us to evaluate our bases. On what do we depend, do we stand, do we presume shall remain firm beneath our feet?
Scares tend to make one either shut off or completely vulnerable. I don't much care for being vulnerable. The act of being open entails far more trust than I often feel comfortable giving. That's okay sometimes; people cannot always be trusted. It's when I have a dearth of trust in God that the problem starts. Trusting people is risky business, to be sure, but it is sometimes necessary.
I am so thankful for the people who immediately began praying and have continued, and will continue. The simple act of telling someone you care and are involved means so much.
I don't know a better way to conclude than to quote an old song: On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand, all other ground is sinking sand.
_______________
*Shut up, Chrome, I know it isn't a word your prosaic dictionary accepts. I'm a writer. I can make up words if I so deign.
**Yeah, he's a pretty cool uncle.
***'Effluvia' is such a good word.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
The Doctor; Brilliance; bowties; morality
Well, I’m writing this at a coffee shop, but the internet
isn’t cooperating, thus defeating half the point of my coming here.* So this
may go a different direction than I’d planned.
"The anger of a good man is not a problem. Good men have too many rules."
"Good men don't need rules. Today is not the day to find out why I have so many."***
(Okay. I'm sorry. I lied. I'm going to fangirl for a moment. Yes, I know "fangirl" is a noun, and not a verb, but I don't care. This episode is intense, and fairly dark, but that's the point. We really see the mettle of these characters when things get rough. Also, we see Rory get all strident and avenging on his wife's behalf, delivering epic lines as spaceships explode in the background. I love Rory. I want a Rory.)
This clip, aside from containing fantastic dialogue, is very nearly gospel truth. If we take Scripture literally, there was only one good man, and even he asked, "Why do you call me good?" There are no "good men", and that's why we need rules. Otherwise, well, mankind wouldn't have lasted much past the Garden of Eden. It seems like a pretty decent circumstantial argument for God's existence that humanity has existed as long as it has, given our propensity for destruction****, not to mention capacity for and acceptance of monumental stupidity.*****
Good men don't need rules.
It makes you think about what you'd do to protect a loved one, and the rightness or wrongness of those actions. It certainly pushes one into the grey area of morals. That's a good thing, sometimes. The world does operate in a world of black and white. There are moral absolutes. But the thing is, both are present, and they end up getting muddled together in the middle sometimes in the circumstances of everyday life. As comfortable as it is to shovel sand over one's head in the attempts to ignore this, it's impractical and really rather naive. Living well in the real world requires some introspection and serious thought now and then.
_____________________
*The other half of the point, which entails a good cuppa
coffee, atmosphere, and cute baristas, however, was victorious. Also, people-watching and running mental commentary on fashion choices.
**Bowties are cool.
***Steven Moffat is a brilliant writer. He also writes/directs BBC's Sherlock, a subject I shall definitely discuss later. Go watch that too.
****I watched The Fifth Element again yesterday, so that theme's lingering in my head. The first time I really remember seeing Bruce Willis in a movie was the third or fourth Die Hard (thanks, Dad!), so it still trips me seeing him with hair.
*****Two words: Jersey Shore.
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Faith; fiction; Joss Whedon
I recently read a brief article in Christianity Today that dealt with issues some authors have encountered with faith-based fiction and Amazon reviews. These authors primarily self-publish using Amazon, and most of their books are free.* They have received a significant number of poor reviews because they apparently did not warn in their product descriptions that religious faith was a central tenet of their fiction. One giver of a negative reviewer summed it up by saying that religion is all well and good, but has no place in fiction.
I sat there for a minute after reading that sentence, blinked, and re-read in the hopes all the ongoing atmospheric pressure changes had performed some sinister action upon my vision. "Religion has no place in fiction."** The more I think about it, the more torn I am between pity and that kind of semi-hysterical laughter that makes people look at you skeptically and edge away like you're insane and contagious.
Let's clarify something here. I think most fiction that is labeled as "Christian" is terrible. The messages some of these books try to convey? They might be, at their core, beautiful and true. The vehicles by which they are all too often delivered, however, are trite, boring, preachy, and examples of bad art. Nevertheless, history informs us some of the best books, both in quality, endurance, and popularity, are deeply religious or influenced by religion. Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment, for example. While those who haven't read it might be under the delusion it is a popular text due to its delightful pastoral scenes or witty dialogue, a la Jane Austen, let me dispel that now. C&P is dark, brutal, and one of the most frightening studies of human nature across which I've come.*** It is also founded on principles of faith - Christian faith, in this case - and redemption.
Granted, this is a huge book, and not something with which everyone is familiar. If one wanted to make the argument that authors such as Dostoevsky are inaccessible to the average person, I would not entirely agree, but would concede there might be an argument made there.**** I counter with Tolkien. I don't care if we want to reference the Lord of the Rings books or the film franchise.***** Very few are unfamiliar with the franchise by this point. John Ronald Reuel Tolkien was staunchly Catholic. While Lord of the Rings is not blatantly Christian, it is implicitly Christian by virtue of the themes contained therein.
I move on from more time-honored and perhaps more "Christian" authors to modern authors such as Cormac McCarthy. The Road is possibly the bleakest book I've read. Nevertheless, there are "religious" questions posed, such as the purpose of man's existence, what defines man, whether God exists. These themes drive the characters and the plot.
Now I'm going to make the biggest leap here from literature to a short-lived but excellent television series. Before Joss Whedon finally, finally started getting his dues after directing the recent Avengers movie, he directed a television show about a decade ago. It was called Firefly, and is best described in short as a space western. Whedon himself is an atheist. This did not stop him from including the character of a preacher in the cast. This character asks hard questions, but is a man of unflinching integrity, and I would argue his presence adds a nuance of sheer artistic depth that wouldn't be present without him. While Firefly is certainly not what one would call "Christian" television******, and it forces an even vaguely discerning or intelligent audience member to consider issues he might not otherwise.
Even from a perspective outside Christianity, I think it would be incredibly difficult to say without ignoring the history of literature, and even modern literature, that religion has no place in fiction. Fiction can be written without religion, and it can be popular. Some currently popular fiction such as The Hunger Games trilogy is set in a world in which God and religion are simply absent. I would argue this absence correlates to a lack of depth in certain areas.
I will conclude by saying that popularity does not indicate quality. I think all I need to say on that is Twilight. You're welcome, and good night.
______________________
*I am far from saying one should accept a work of poor quality simply because it is free; however, an excessive amount of complaining about a free book seems a bit silly.
**I had to decide how to react at this point. My options were an instinctive Picard face-palm (see previous post), a gratifying but ultimately unhelpful moment of HULK SMASH, or a blog post that would hopefully blunder into being useful. We'll see how that last option goes. I'm waiting for the coffee to kick in. The caffeine boost will either give my mental faculties a kick-start, or turn me into the equivalent of Doug from Up. In the latter case, this will turn into a barely-controlled case study of temporary ADD. Hang with me.
***Granted, I'm young and have a lot more to read. If you haven't read Crime and Punishment, you need to. It's a huge book, and yes, there are a lot of Russian nicknames, but the time is absolutely worth it.
****More than a few high school English programs have juniors and seniors read Crime and Punishment. The whole thing. This can and will be expanded into a full post later, rest assured.
*****Extended versions, of course. And who's excited about The Hobbit this fall? Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch both appearing in a film outside BBC's Sherlock. *Snoopy dance of happiness*
******For one, it's far too interesting and well-written.
I sat there for a minute after reading that sentence, blinked, and re-read in the hopes all the ongoing atmospheric pressure changes had performed some sinister action upon my vision. "Religion has no place in fiction."** The more I think about it, the more torn I am between pity and that kind of semi-hysterical laughter that makes people look at you skeptically and edge away like you're insane and contagious.
Let's clarify something here. I think most fiction that is labeled as "Christian" is terrible. The messages some of these books try to convey? They might be, at their core, beautiful and true. The vehicles by which they are all too often delivered, however, are trite, boring, preachy, and examples of bad art. Nevertheless, history informs us some of the best books, both in quality, endurance, and popularity, are deeply religious or influenced by religion. Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment, for example. While those who haven't read it might be under the delusion it is a popular text due to its delightful pastoral scenes or witty dialogue, a la Jane Austen, let me dispel that now. C&P is dark, brutal, and one of the most frightening studies of human nature across which I've come.*** It is also founded on principles of faith - Christian faith, in this case - and redemption.
Granted, this is a huge book, and not something with which everyone is familiar. If one wanted to make the argument that authors such as Dostoevsky are inaccessible to the average person, I would not entirely agree, but would concede there might be an argument made there.**** I counter with Tolkien. I don't care if we want to reference the Lord of the Rings books or the film franchise.***** Very few are unfamiliar with the franchise by this point. John Ronald Reuel Tolkien was staunchly Catholic. While Lord of the Rings is not blatantly Christian, it is implicitly Christian by virtue of the themes contained therein.
I move on from more time-honored and perhaps more "Christian" authors to modern authors such as Cormac McCarthy. The Road is possibly the bleakest book I've read. Nevertheless, there are "religious" questions posed, such as the purpose of man's existence, what defines man, whether God exists. These themes drive the characters and the plot.
Now I'm going to make the biggest leap here from literature to a short-lived but excellent television series. Before Joss Whedon finally, finally started getting his dues after directing the recent Avengers movie, he directed a television show about a decade ago. It was called Firefly, and is best described in short as a space western. Whedon himself is an atheist. This did not stop him from including the character of a preacher in the cast. This character asks hard questions, but is a man of unflinching integrity, and I would argue his presence adds a nuance of sheer artistic depth that wouldn't be present without him. While Firefly is certainly not what one would call "Christian" television******, and it forces an even vaguely discerning or intelligent audience member to consider issues he might not otherwise.
Even from a perspective outside Christianity, I think it would be incredibly difficult to say without ignoring the history of literature, and even modern literature, that religion has no place in fiction. Fiction can be written without religion, and it can be popular. Some currently popular fiction such as The Hunger Games trilogy is set in a world in which God and religion are simply absent. I would argue this absence correlates to a lack of depth in certain areas.
I will conclude by saying that popularity does not indicate quality. I think all I need to say on that is Twilight. You're welcome, and good night.
______________________
*I am far from saying one should accept a work of poor quality simply because it is free; however, an excessive amount of complaining about a free book seems a bit silly.
**I had to decide how to react at this point. My options were an instinctive Picard face-palm (see previous post), a gratifying but ultimately unhelpful moment of HULK SMASH, or a blog post that would hopefully blunder into being useful. We'll see how that last option goes. I'm waiting for the coffee to kick in. The caffeine boost will either give my mental faculties a kick-start, or turn me into the equivalent of Doug from Up. In the latter case, this will turn into a barely-controlled case study of temporary ADD. Hang with me.
***Granted, I'm young and have a lot more to read. If you haven't read Crime and Punishment, you need to. It's a huge book, and yes, there are a lot of Russian nicknames, but the time is absolutely worth it.
****More than a few high school English programs have juniors and seniors read Crime and Punishment. The whole thing. This can and will be expanded into a full post later, rest assured.
*****Extended versions, of course. And who's excited about The Hobbit this fall? Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch both appearing in a film outside BBC's Sherlock. *Snoopy dance of happiness*
******For one, it's far too interesting and well-written.
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Bumper Stickers; Christians; Tact; Picard
Recently, as I was rolling down the highway, doing a judicious 79 miles an hour on a road zoned for 75*, my sister pointed out a bumper sticker on an SUV we were passing. It read, "Stop, drop, and roll won't work in hell." Admittedly, my sense of humor can drift into the morbid now and again, so, a small part of me did find this passingly amusing. The rest of me did this:
While I typically dislike using "Christian" as an adjective to modify nouns, particularly pertaining to art or culture, this sticker could be labelled as nothing else, aside from "potentially offensive", "alienating", and "as devoid of tact as a Cyberman".** The saddest part may be that this sticker references concepts and occurrences that are of the utmost spiritual and metaphysical importance. In the background are salvation, the death and resurrection of Christ, justification, and sanctification. This particular representation of these ideas, however, is trite and offensive. It does no justice to these concepts to which anyone who knew the truth should cling; to the contrary, it drives many away with what smacks of a sense of superiority.
I am certainly not saying one should base one's concept of evangelism upon offending no one. Some will be offended or turned off. This does not mean we should be careless in what we say and how we say it. It is quite the opposite; when we speak of the greatest and truest things to exist, we should be very, very careful. These are not small things we claim to represent, nor are they casual or ordinary. Awe is a dying concept, and that is a frightening realization. Too often, we speak of great things off-handedly, and trivial matters reverentially.
On some other day, I'm certain I'll attempt to expand on this, hopefully in a worthy and judicious manner. It is something that deserves a far better treatment than I can give it, but I will give it a go.***
_________________________
*Four over is almost always safe (and sometimes, very necessary), unless you are passing through a small town or school zone. If it's the latter, think of the children, and the massive fine you may incur.
**Doctor Who reference. In certain ways, many camps of Christian evangelism operate under mindsets not unlike that of the Cybermen: Convert and become exactly like us, or die. I could write an entire post centering upon this comparison, but I shall refrain.
***Three footnotes is quite more manageable than eight, or however many I got to last time. This may be a feasible system up to five or so footnotes; past that, just counting the bothersome things is annoying for all involved. I shall have to experiment in an attempt to find the optimal range for asterisk-flagged footnotes. Hooray for science!
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Clarifications upon the URL and Title References
"Further Up and Further In" is a reference to C.S. Lewis's The Last Battle, and "ring of pure and endless light" is from Henry Vaughn's delightful poem, The World. Of course, I recommend C.S. Lewis's works highly, but do read The World. It's short.
http://www.luminarium.org/sevenlit/vaughan/world.htm
http://www.luminarium.org/sevenlit/vaughan/world.htm
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
The Church; some of its sundry issues; footnotes of snark
Like its Maker, the Church is something nigh impossible to describe. Scripture calls it a bride, a body, an organism both unified and formed of component parts. It is composed of body and spirit, containing immeasurable purpose and power, both transcendent and temporal. This is the Church, the catholic church, the united body of believers.*
Face it, though, this is a Church few of us actually see. Some of us who have spent every Sunday and Wednesday of our lives in a church building have never seen this Church. We've seen a version no stronger than the diluted grape juice passed around a Baptist celebration of communion.** The church that many both in and out of the faith know is often petty, confusing, constraining, and boring.*** It often divides itself not in a helpful amoebic way, but in a quarreling, divisive way. It attempts, on occasion, to be cool for the sake of being cool, often with more failure than success.****
The earthly church has never been perfect. While the particular problems varied from age to age, every strain of the church and every denomination has had and will have flaws, simply because every person in the church has had and will have flaws. Plato's Republic serves as a useful example here. The city of which Socrates speaks in exhausting detail is, in its simplest form, a collection of men. Not only is it simply a name for a governed collection of men, it is, to Plato, man writ large. One can better see something if it is magnified. In this case, the city reflects on the state of a man.
As the condition of a city says something about the condition of its inhabitants, so does the condition of the church. The church is, at times, petty, confusing, constraining, and boring, because its members are petty, confusing, constraining, and boring. It is little wonder that many outside the church (and increasing numbers within) feel a sense of offense and outrage toward the church and feel it has little to nothing to offer.
This is where one must make a most crucial distinction. Members of the church, due to sin's presence in the world, have faults.***** This does not mean the creator and sustainer of the church does. The temporal church may be divided; God is not. The temporal church may confuse and constrain; God does not. The church's poor representation of God does not mean God himself is lacking, much as a child's well-meant drawing of his family does not mean his parents actually gander about as technicolored stick figures.
I grew up in the church and, thankfully enough, every now and then, caught glimpses of the Church. These glimpses came through people, through deeds, through authors like Lewis and Sayers and L'Engle. There are so many things the church has done right, and so much it has done wrong. I do not claim to have solutions, even though I realize possessing an undergraduate degree in Good Books****** absolutely qualifies me to offer solutions about anything and everything.*******
I offer observations, questions, thoughts, and some quotes and ideas I only wish were originally mine. During this endeavor to examine, question, and affirm the church, I'll probably come across some hornets' nests, but that seems to be the way of things, particularly if one has strong opinions and ideals. Some of these quotes and ideas from classical and contemporary literature will be accompanied by references to things in which I am intensely interested, namely art, music, and superhero movies. Just as "Christian" culture does not signify qualitatively good or value-filled culture, "secular" culture does not mean qualitatively bad or value-void culture********. The temporal church may be in a period of intense difficulty (much of its own making), particularly in the West, but it has so much to offer. It has infinity and beyond.*********
______________
These asterisks are driving me crazier than you, I promise. Turabian-style numbered end-notes would be more concise and generally tidy, but the idea gives me flashbacks to finishing term papers in library cubicles at two in the morning, shaking from exhaustion, caffeine-fueled mania, and the increasingly paranoid sense the walls were sentient and closing in.
All that to say, I'll figure out some better way of canning and preserving these side-notes of varying importance.
*Not Roman Catholic. Just catholic.
**I am aware this could spark all sorts of interesting conversations regarding sacraments, denominations, and alcohol. I'll get there later, I promise.
***"But church isn't supposed to be entertainment!" Yes. And no. A joyful heart is good medicine, and Jesus told stories to get at the deepest truths. Also, Jesus was funny, a fact that many seem unwilling to admit or believe. To quote Dorothy Sayers, Jesus "displayed a paradoxical humor that affronted serious-minded people", and "was emphatically not a dull man in his human lifetime, and if he was God, there can be nothing dull about God either." (Both quotes are from Letters to a Diminished Church. I emphatically recommend it.)
****This desire led to some humiliating moments of '80s and '90s Christianity, times during which many tried to create godly culture by Christianizing secular culture. There were noble goals involved, to be sure, but some of the resultant "Christian" art, specifically, was positively cringe-worthy, sort of like awkward teenage years that lasted over a decade. Yes, "Christian" art is definitely something I'll discuss later, and by "discuss", I mean probably spend most of my life trying to understand better.
*****Another one of those topics to which I'll get someday. I will note now, if you're reading this and don't believe there is sin or evil present in the world, we will almost immediately arrive at cross-purposes. While I respect your right to believe that, I also respect my right to believe you must live in a very different world than I. Or, to quote Hawkeye from the recent Avengers movie, "You and I remember Budapest very differently."
******The name of the major is Great Texts, technically, but let's get serious here, they let me major in books and still gave me a diploma. I halfway keep expecting someone to show up at my house to take it back, so I keep it under my bed next to my gun.
*******Just in case this sentence is unclear, I am being sarcastic. The further I got into my undergraduate education, the more I realized I didn't know squat. On a note about my being sarcastic, that will happen a lot. If you do not hold with sarcasm, or are very easily offended, know that I am (usually) not trying to be offensive. I also have far too much snark coded into my DNA to hide it save for delicate situations. In short, there will be sarcasm. If you don't like it, you are (probably) under absolutely no obligation to read anything I write. If you are under some sort of obligation, please drop me an email and let me know what obligation.
******** Also, because superheroes are cool.
*********Yeah, I quoted a Pixar movie. What are you going to do about it?
Post-script, because I couldn't find a good place to work this in, but want to inform you anyway:
I will have at least one post with a heavy dose of Avengers, both for some theologically delightful lines and examples of excellent storytelling. I'm sure once the third Batman movie comes up, that'll make an appearance. Firefly will, Lord of the Rings definitely will, and BBC's Doctor Who and Sherlock will come up. Theoretically the BBC shows will show up because of storytelling elements and commentary on current culture, but mostly because I love Eccleston, Tennant, Smith, Cumberbatch, and Freeman.
Okay. I'm done for now. Go with God.
Face it, though, this is a Church few of us actually see. Some of us who have spent every Sunday and Wednesday of our lives in a church building have never seen this Church. We've seen a version no stronger than the diluted grape juice passed around a Baptist celebration of communion.** The church that many both in and out of the faith know is often petty, confusing, constraining, and boring.*** It often divides itself not in a helpful amoebic way, but in a quarreling, divisive way. It attempts, on occasion, to be cool for the sake of being cool, often with more failure than success.****
The earthly church has never been perfect. While the particular problems varied from age to age, every strain of the church and every denomination has had and will have flaws, simply because every person in the church has had and will have flaws. Plato's Republic serves as a useful example here. The city of which Socrates speaks in exhausting detail is, in its simplest form, a collection of men. Not only is it simply a name for a governed collection of men, it is, to Plato, man writ large. One can better see something if it is magnified. In this case, the city reflects on the state of a man.
As the condition of a city says something about the condition of its inhabitants, so does the condition of the church. The church is, at times, petty, confusing, constraining, and boring, because its members are petty, confusing, constraining, and boring. It is little wonder that many outside the church (and increasing numbers within) feel a sense of offense and outrage toward the church and feel it has little to nothing to offer.
This is where one must make a most crucial distinction. Members of the church, due to sin's presence in the world, have faults.***** This does not mean the creator and sustainer of the church does. The temporal church may be divided; God is not. The temporal church may confuse and constrain; God does not. The church's poor representation of God does not mean God himself is lacking, much as a child's well-meant drawing of his family does not mean his parents actually gander about as technicolored stick figures.
I grew up in the church and, thankfully enough, every now and then, caught glimpses of the Church. These glimpses came through people, through deeds, through authors like Lewis and Sayers and L'Engle. There are so many things the church has done right, and so much it has done wrong. I do not claim to have solutions, even though I realize possessing an undergraduate degree in Good Books****** absolutely qualifies me to offer solutions about anything and everything.*******
I offer observations, questions, thoughts, and some quotes and ideas I only wish were originally mine. During this endeavor to examine, question, and affirm the church, I'll probably come across some hornets' nests, but that seems to be the way of things, particularly if one has strong opinions and ideals. Some of these quotes and ideas from classical and contemporary literature will be accompanied by references to things in which I am intensely interested, namely art, music, and superhero movies. Just as "Christian" culture does not signify qualitatively good or value-filled culture, "secular" culture does not mean qualitatively bad or value-void culture********. The temporal church may be in a period of intense difficulty (much of its own making), particularly in the West, but it has so much to offer. It has infinity and beyond.*********
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These asterisks are driving me crazier than you, I promise. Turabian-style numbered end-notes would be more concise and generally tidy, but the idea gives me flashbacks to finishing term papers in library cubicles at two in the morning, shaking from exhaustion, caffeine-fueled mania, and the increasingly paranoid sense the walls were sentient and closing in.
All that to say, I'll figure out some better way of canning and preserving these side-notes of varying importance.
*Not Roman Catholic. Just catholic.
**I am aware this could spark all sorts of interesting conversations regarding sacraments, denominations, and alcohol. I'll get there later, I promise.
***"But church isn't supposed to be entertainment!" Yes. And no. A joyful heart is good medicine, and Jesus told stories to get at the deepest truths. Also, Jesus was funny, a fact that many seem unwilling to admit or believe. To quote Dorothy Sayers, Jesus "displayed a paradoxical humor that affronted serious-minded people", and "was emphatically not a dull man in his human lifetime, and if he was God, there can be nothing dull about God either." (Both quotes are from Letters to a Diminished Church. I emphatically recommend it.)
****This desire led to some humiliating moments of '80s and '90s Christianity, times during which many tried to create godly culture by Christianizing secular culture. There were noble goals involved, to be sure, but some of the resultant "Christian" art, specifically, was positively cringe-worthy, sort of like awkward teenage years that lasted over a decade. Yes, "Christian" art is definitely something I'll discuss later, and by "discuss", I mean probably spend most of my life trying to understand better.
*****Another one of those topics to which I'll get someday. I will note now, if you're reading this and don't believe there is sin or evil present in the world, we will almost immediately arrive at cross-purposes. While I respect your right to believe that, I also respect my right to believe you must live in a very different world than I. Or, to quote Hawkeye from the recent Avengers movie, "You and I remember Budapest very differently."
******The name of the major is Great Texts, technically, but let's get serious here, they let me major in books and still gave me a diploma. I halfway keep expecting someone to show up at my house to take it back, so I keep it under my bed next to my gun.
*******Just in case this sentence is unclear, I am being sarcastic. The further I got into my undergraduate education, the more I realized I didn't know squat. On a note about my being sarcastic, that will happen a lot. If you do not hold with sarcasm, or are very easily offended, know that I am (usually) not trying to be offensive. I also have far too much snark coded into my DNA to hide it save for delicate situations. In short, there will be sarcasm. If you don't like it, you are (probably) under absolutely no obligation to read anything I write. If you are under some sort of obligation, please drop me an email and let me know what obligation.
******** Also, because superheroes are cool.
*********Yeah, I quoted a Pixar movie. What are you going to do about it?
Post-script, because I couldn't find a good place to work this in, but want to inform you anyway:
I will have at least one post with a heavy dose of Avengers, both for some theologically delightful lines and examples of excellent storytelling. I'm sure once the third Batman movie comes up, that'll make an appearance. Firefly will, Lord of the Rings definitely will, and BBC's Doctor Who and Sherlock will come up. Theoretically the BBC shows will show up because of storytelling elements and commentary on current culture, but mostly because I love Eccleston, Tennant, Smith, Cumberbatch, and Freeman.
Okay. I'm done for now. Go with God.
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