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! 

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*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.

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.

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*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.

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.






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*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 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.

Ah, wait, no. Hello there, internet connection. It is good to see you too. Don't be all wibbley on me again during this post, alright?

The idea for this one came to me this morning after what I wish I could claim was a very lengthy or very speedy run (but it was something, and that's what counted for today). Those of you who watch Doctor Who know precisely what I mean by "Demon's Run." For those of you to whom I might as well be speaking ancient Etruscan, Doctor Who is a long-running British science fiction television series featuring - well, I feel I'll start giving away plot at this point if I say much more. The most recent seasons (or "series", to use the British terminology) are on Netflix. Go before I start fangirling. Believe me, no one wants that.

Ahem. The point is, watch this clip. All you need to know for context is that the chap with the bowtie** is the Doctor, and the other people present are holding hostage one of his best friends (Amy) and her newborn. He's shown up at the enemy asteroid base (bear with me, it's sci-fi) with Amy's husband (Rory) and an army, with the purpose of retrieving Amy and her child. And...go.

"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.

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*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.