If I were a blogger (which I am clearly not, obvi.), then these are the types of things that I would post:
If you can explain to me how Molly is doing that I would be ever so grateful. R.I.P. John.
Phoenix- Lisztomania (RIYL: Dancing, 80's sounding pop that actually got released this year, the French, the Brat Pack, no longer having an ass because of a previous incident in which you intentionally danced it off)
Showing posts with label Me. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Me. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Good News on Easter Morning: Global Warming is a Hoax, Nothing to Worry About Here*
It would be nice to find a job that offers me real insurance, the kind that John McCain has but doesn't want to offer to we pesky Americans who don't get government managed care courtesy of the U.S. Senate.
*I regret to inform you that global climate change is probably not an extremely elaborate hoax, but is instead a serious danger to future generations/the earth's poor/all of us. But the preacher who suggested that it is a hoax backed up his claim by commenting on how cold it's been in Yellowstone this year. Yeah, I almost walked out.
And not to forget the music. My sister, who has great taste in music/art/clothing/etc., and I were just talking about Los Campesinos! And they're fun. So you should check them out.
Los Campesinos- Death to Los Campesinos
RIYL- Broken Social Scene, Stars, British accents, people who are fans of indie rock and decide to start their own band.
*I regret to inform you that global climate change is probably not an extremely elaborate hoax, but is instead a serious danger to future generations/the earth's poor/all of us. But the preacher who suggested that it is a hoax backed up his claim by commenting on how cold it's been in Yellowstone this year. Yeah, I almost walked out.
And not to forget the music. My sister, who has great taste in music/art/clothing/etc., and I were just talking about Los Campesinos! And they're fun. So you should check them out.
Los Campesinos- Death to Los Campesinos
RIYL- Broken Social Scene, Stars, British accents, people who are fans of indie rock and decide to start their own band.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Bonecrusher n00dz r so hawt right now.
So I was robbed yesterday.
It is sort of a long and complicated story, but the basic plot line is that someone tried to break into my apartment by ripping out the lock, failed, and then came back the next day to finish the job while I was out trying to get it fixed. Annoying, I know.
I didn't actually realize that I had been robbed until about 24 hours after it happened. I woke up this morning, tried to look at my old cell phone to see what time it was, and realized that it wasn't there.
Neither was the cord.
Neither was my guitar.
"Am I going crazy?" I thought. And then, as the haze cleared, "shit."
It took me a while to think about looking to see if anything else was missing. It doesn't look like I have lany fewer DVDs than I used to, but I didn't really check. The three dollars on my dresser are still there. So are my CDs. I guess it's a good thing that I keep my Daddy Yankee and Fat Joe collections in a safe under the bed.
In related news, my digital camera seems to have grown legs and walked away.
So I'm oscillating between being a little bit and very upset. Clearly I'm not happy about the idea of being robbed. It's like, "Really? Robbing people? Wow." And I'm not happy that they broke into the outside courtyard, but that I left my inside door unlocked. Because now it's partly my fault. Except that our apartments have this really neat little design flaw where it's entirely possible to be both locked in the courtyard and out of the house AT THE EXACT SAME TIME. So if I could go back, I don't know that I'd do it any differently. But of course I am second guessing myself because making the "wrong" decision has cost me about $800. Sweet.
What really bothers me is the specific stuff that I lost. For one, whoever stole my phone is going to be disappointed that it a) has no service and b) doesn't work even if it did. So they have something which is useless to them, and I no longer have the pictures that I took over the past three years.
And the camera does not make me happy either. It was only a year old, and a Christmas present from my dad. I asked him to help me buy a camera. He bought it for me. He's so generous. It had my only pictures of Deanna on it. It had the pictures of Chiapas that I take around to show people on it. So, no more camera.
But it's the guitar that kills me. I love playing that guitar. And I love that my mom bought it for me. I remember thinking of how much it meant to me. How cool I felt. I remember knowing that she saved up money to buy me that guitar. My sixteenth birthday present. I was always going to keep that guitar because of what it meant to me.
It's not the stuff, it's what that stuff means to me.
The bright side? They didn't steal my hot water heater. That's a popular little item here in Agua Prieta. Three cheers for hot showers.
It is sort of a long and complicated story, but the basic plot line is that someone tried to break into my apartment by ripping out the lock, failed, and then came back the next day to finish the job while I was out trying to get it fixed. Annoying, I know.
I didn't actually realize that I had been robbed until about 24 hours after it happened. I woke up this morning, tried to look at my old cell phone to see what time it was, and realized that it wasn't there.
Neither was the cord.
Neither was my guitar.
"Am I going crazy?" I thought. And then, as the haze cleared, "shit."
It took me a while to think about looking to see if anything else was missing. It doesn't look like I have lany fewer DVDs than I used to, but I didn't really check. The three dollars on my dresser are still there. So are my CDs. I guess it's a good thing that I keep my Daddy Yankee and Fat Joe collections in a safe under the bed.
In related news, my digital camera seems to have grown legs and walked away.
So I'm oscillating between being a little bit and very upset. Clearly I'm not happy about the idea of being robbed. It's like, "Really? Robbing people? Wow." And I'm not happy that they broke into the outside courtyard, but that I left my inside door unlocked. Because now it's partly my fault. Except that our apartments have this really neat little design flaw where it's entirely possible to be both locked in the courtyard and out of the house AT THE EXACT SAME TIME. So if I could go back, I don't know that I'd do it any differently. But of course I am second guessing myself because making the "wrong" decision has cost me about $800. Sweet.
What really bothers me is the specific stuff that I lost. For one, whoever stole my phone is going to be disappointed that it a) has no service and b) doesn't work even if it did. So they have something which is useless to them, and I no longer have the pictures that I took over the past three years.
And the camera does not make me happy either. It was only a year old, and a Christmas present from my dad. I asked him to help me buy a camera. He bought it for me. He's so generous. It had my only pictures of Deanna on it. It had the pictures of Chiapas that I take around to show people on it. So, no more camera.
But it's the guitar that kills me. I love playing that guitar. And I love that my mom bought it for me. I remember thinking of how much it meant to me. How cool I felt. I remember knowing that she saved up money to buy me that guitar. My sixteenth birthday present. I was always going to keep that guitar because of what it meant to me.
It's not the stuff, it's what that stuff means to me.
The bright side? They didn't steal my hot water heater. That's a popular little item here in Agua Prieta. Three cheers for hot showers.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Keep Crashing This Car, Over and Over
Why are we still so afraid?
The things we do deserve their rightful names.
Swing with all you have.
Stop me if you can.
-be sensible, jimmy eat world
I think that, in a way, we all bought into the hype.
It's the trial. At last. The trial.
And of course there's so much to be said about that. Justice. A reckoning. Punishment. Confrontation. Something.
Whatever we thought it would mean, if we ever really thought about it at all, we were not prepared for what it actually was. In poetry you can never say "I love you." In life it is never enough to say "good and hard." How to describe that week? Imagine Jesus descending into hell. Grace personified. But in hell.
The trial was, both literally and metaphorically, a destination. Something that we could look forward to. Something that we could place our stock in. Something that was, I don't know, tangible. But it was also an unwanted guest, still in the house far after we tired of its company. It was the emergency surgery.
And it's understandable really. We needed this. Some of us more than others. Several of us much more than me. We all needed this. But none of us wanted it to be necessary. All we've ever really wanted was escape.
When I try to think of the last time that I sat down with a bunch of other people from Central Presbyterian to discuss Peter, for any reason, I picture his welcome party. The rest of it has sort of slipped by. I've never really talked to my parents about it. I've never gotten a card in the mail saying "we're having a meeting at the church, why don't you come join us." I've never had someone even suggest that maybe we should sit down and talk this out. What in the world would we talk about? How would we possibly begin?
Looking back, these events (the Peter years, the post-Peter years, the Peter's back!?! trial years) have all transpired with surprisingly little fanfare. Look back again and you'll be forced to realize that he has never really left us alone. A constant presence that everyone is ashamed to talk about. Scared to talk about. Confused about. The 600 pound gorilla in no uncertain terms.
I got a phone call this morning saying that Peter has been arrested. Again.
I couldn't move on even if I wanted to.
When the stone first hit the water, the disruption of our lives was just too much. Surface tension destroyed. The rotting muck underneath revealed. And when the water returned to glass, no one could intentionally throw another stone. But the wake remains, bouncing off the shore and ricocheting around us. The ripples lapping against our collars remind us that we are up to our necks. The temperature drops slowly. We alternate between bouts of confused panic and treacherous sleep.
Look out the window. The green bleeds away, leaving a sickly, jaundiced yellow in its place. The lazy breeze speeds up, and then its temperament sours. The wind grows teeth and tears at the flesh of the trees. And then one day you realize that the cover from your shade tree is gone. You look up to see a weathered oak standing naked in the sun.
At some point I realized that all of this was choking me. This recurring sliding feeling wasn't going away.
So the trial, this public spectacle, became the chance to say that the emperor has no clothes. It was a chance to come out. All is not well. Something terrible has happened here.
Something terrible has happened here.
Late in the week I was listening to an expert witness testify about trauma and its impact on adolescents. Suddenly I became alert, conscious of myself in a room full of strangers. I was nodding along, picturing my life in the scenes of escapism and guilt.
Here's a test:
Do you often assume that people in the church are full of shit? Clearly guilty of something, definite skeletons in the closet?
Do you look for cracks in the corners, sagging rafters, proof that the foundation is slipping? Are you convinced that the building will collapse? It's only a matter of time. Save yourself.
Do you feel caught between the past and the present, as if some blunt instrument has struck your history and shattered its continuum? Endangered your future?
Do pieces of your life feel fragile? At any moment a wave will come and sweep them away, like great walls of ice abandoning the glacier and drowning themselves in the sea.
Do you search desperately for something that looks like Jesus and feels like love?
The trial unlocked the hard drives and knocked over the file cabinets. Information everywhere. Bits and pieces of fear and hate and betrayal just littering the floor. Millions of pixels all distorted. An image I had not forgotten, but had very clearly lost.
The trial turned out to be a chance for the world around us to crash the party, to reach the epicenter and look for survivors in the wreckage.
Ultimately, it didn't quite go our way.
Mistrial.
A miscarriage is when you lose the baby. We didn't lose the trial. We had a trial.
In some way it was validating. It was good to hear eight voices say that was has happened was wrong. That what has happened was criminal.
Why did I need to go? Why did I feel so compelled? A physical draw, my headlights pointed towards the one thing I wanted most to avoid. Was it to support my friend? Clearly. But what does that even look like? Was it to, in some way, confront Peter. Possibly. I confess that I always stayed out of the men's room when he was at the urinal.
Mostly I think it was because someone finally gave me the chance to show up, to walk into a room. To say with my presence, "this was wrong."
I have been living my life like a sprint since the moment Peter left. Or maybe since the moment I left Peter. I've been running. From myself. From him. From the guilt. But sprints don't last. You can't live a sprint.
I've been running because the temple where I worshiped, the place where I Am dwells, burned to the ground. All that cedar and bronze. Poof.
But we've found that life goes on without the temple that Solomon built. Instead of the altar, we've had the Nicoletti's table. Instead of the burnt offerings, we've had the Wicklund's fire pit. Understanding in a car crash.
Transformation just takes so much time.
If I could make it better for the people around me. The friends and the family. Oh God. I would. But I'm not God.
And God is. God Is.
I'd be lying if I said that I don't still try to offer myself up as the ram caught in the thicket. I'd be lying if I said that I was alone in that.
The things we do deserve their rightful names.
Swing with all you have.
Stop me if you can.
-be sensible, jimmy eat world
I think that, in a way, we all bought into the hype.
It's the trial. At last. The trial.
And of course there's so much to be said about that. Justice. A reckoning. Punishment. Confrontation. Something.
Whatever we thought it would mean, if we ever really thought about it at all, we were not prepared for what it actually was. In poetry you can never say "I love you." In life it is never enough to say "good and hard." How to describe that week? Imagine Jesus descending into hell. Grace personified. But in hell.
The trial was, both literally and metaphorically, a destination. Something that we could look forward to. Something that we could place our stock in. Something that was, I don't know, tangible. But it was also an unwanted guest, still in the house far after we tired of its company. It was the emergency surgery.
And it's understandable really. We needed this. Some of us more than others. Several of us much more than me. We all needed this. But none of us wanted it to be necessary. All we've ever really wanted was escape.
When I try to think of the last time that I sat down with a bunch of other people from Central Presbyterian to discuss Peter, for any reason, I picture his welcome party. The rest of it has sort of slipped by. I've never really talked to my parents about it. I've never gotten a card in the mail saying "we're having a meeting at the church, why don't you come join us." I've never had someone even suggest that maybe we should sit down and talk this out. What in the world would we talk about? How would we possibly begin?
Looking back, these events (the Peter years, the post-Peter years, the Peter's back!?! trial years) have all transpired with surprisingly little fanfare. Look back again and you'll be forced to realize that he has never really left us alone. A constant presence that everyone is ashamed to talk about. Scared to talk about. Confused about. The 600 pound gorilla in no uncertain terms.
I got a phone call this morning saying that Peter has been arrested. Again.
I couldn't move on even if I wanted to.
When the stone first hit the water, the disruption of our lives was just too much. Surface tension destroyed. The rotting muck underneath revealed. And when the water returned to glass, no one could intentionally throw another stone. But the wake remains, bouncing off the shore and ricocheting around us. The ripples lapping against our collars remind us that we are up to our necks. The temperature drops slowly. We alternate between bouts of confused panic and treacherous sleep.
Look out the window. The green bleeds away, leaving a sickly, jaundiced yellow in its place. The lazy breeze speeds up, and then its temperament sours. The wind grows teeth and tears at the flesh of the trees. And then one day you realize that the cover from your shade tree is gone. You look up to see a weathered oak standing naked in the sun.
At some point I realized that all of this was choking me. This recurring sliding feeling wasn't going away.
So the trial, this public spectacle, became the chance to say that the emperor has no clothes. It was a chance to come out. All is not well. Something terrible has happened here.
Something terrible has happened here.
Late in the week I was listening to an expert witness testify about trauma and its impact on adolescents. Suddenly I became alert, conscious of myself in a room full of strangers. I was nodding along, picturing my life in the scenes of escapism and guilt.
Here's a test:
Do you often assume that people in the church are full of shit? Clearly guilty of something, definite skeletons in the closet?
Do you look for cracks in the corners, sagging rafters, proof that the foundation is slipping? Are you convinced that the building will collapse? It's only a matter of time. Save yourself.
Do you feel caught between the past and the present, as if some blunt instrument has struck your history and shattered its continuum? Endangered your future?
Do pieces of your life feel fragile? At any moment a wave will come and sweep them away, like great walls of ice abandoning the glacier and drowning themselves in the sea.
Do you search desperately for something that looks like Jesus and feels like love?
The trial unlocked the hard drives and knocked over the file cabinets. Information everywhere. Bits and pieces of fear and hate and betrayal just littering the floor. Millions of pixels all distorted. An image I had not forgotten, but had very clearly lost.
The trial turned out to be a chance for the world around us to crash the party, to reach the epicenter and look for survivors in the wreckage.
Ultimately, it didn't quite go our way.
Mistrial.
A miscarriage is when you lose the baby. We didn't lose the trial. We had a trial.
In some way it was validating. It was good to hear eight voices say that was has happened was wrong. That what has happened was criminal.
Why did I need to go? Why did I feel so compelled? A physical draw, my headlights pointed towards the one thing I wanted most to avoid. Was it to support my friend? Clearly. But what does that even look like? Was it to, in some way, confront Peter. Possibly. I confess that I always stayed out of the men's room when he was at the urinal.
Mostly I think it was because someone finally gave me the chance to show up, to walk into a room. To say with my presence, "this was wrong."
I have been living my life like a sprint since the moment Peter left. Or maybe since the moment I left Peter. I've been running. From myself. From him. From the guilt. But sprints don't last. You can't live a sprint.
I've been running because the temple where I worshiped, the place where I Am dwells, burned to the ground. All that cedar and bronze. Poof.
But we've found that life goes on without the temple that Solomon built. Instead of the altar, we've had the Nicoletti's table. Instead of the burnt offerings, we've had the Wicklund's fire pit. Understanding in a car crash.
Transformation just takes so much time.
If I could make it better for the people around me. The friends and the family. Oh God. I would. But I'm not God.
And God is. God Is.
I'd be lying if I said that I don't still try to offer myself up as the ram caught in the thicket. I'd be lying if I said that I was alone in that.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Understanding In A Car Crash
"these broken windows, open locks
reminders of the youth we lost"
I'll get up a post about the trial. Just not yet.
reminders of the youth we lost"
I'll get up a post about the trial. Just not yet.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Another classic
From the g-mail inbox.
Two questions still plague me. How does Optimus Prime stay so young looking/sounding? What is his secret? More importantly, how does he know that I have always used "Bonecrusher" as my secret pet name for Kyle?
And a little update: I'll be out of town/contact/the countries (both Mexico and the U.S.!) in/for the next two weeks. So I'll be running phone silent, blog silent, and...well, that's about it actually. But I'll see lots of you in Colorado when I get back.
p.s.- Apparently Deanna decided to name Kyle "Bonecrusher," which only increases my deep affection for the both of them. But Kyle is losing to Deanna. Sorry buddy.
Two questions still plague me. How does Optimus Prime stay so young looking/sounding? What is his secret? More importantly, how does he know that I have always used "Bonecrusher" as my secret pet name for Kyle?
And a little update: I'll be out of town/contact/the countries (both Mexico and the U.S.!) in/for the next two weeks. So I'll be running phone silent, blog silent, and...well, that's about it actually. But I'll see lots of you in Colorado when I get back.
p.s.- Apparently Deanna decided to name Kyle "Bonecrusher," which only increases my deep affection for the both of them. But Kyle is losing to Deanna. Sorry buddy.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Not that there's anything wrong with that...*
This is going to be way over the heads of at least a few people who read this blog.
So this whole thing started when both Deanna and Brianne quit the facebook (which is totally fine by the way, I understand why they did it**).
I mean, it hurt a little bit that two people very close to me were just checking out of reality, but that's their choice.
But back to the issue at hand.
Being that my girlfriend had quit the facebook, and Erik's girlfriend had quit the facebook, I decided to take this once in a lifetime opportunity to marry Erik on the facebook and live happily ever after. In the "fake marriage on the internet to one of my best friends" sense of the word, of course.
So I shed a tear, changed my relationship status, and prepared to make my move on Erik. Not wanting people to rush to my side and comfort me in my fake time of need I hid the news feed story of my recent breakup.
Ok, I'll be honest. The pain was real, but it was just too soon.
Everything was going about as well as could be expected under the circumstances. But my happy life turned emotional nightmare was about to get worse. Erik was still listed as being in a relationship. (Note to Erik: She's gone man, give it up. It's time to face facts and move on. I have). This was a big problem for me, because apparently being listed as already in a relationship is enough for the staff of the facebook to deny a potential marriage request. My sense is that they are, as John McCain so eloquently put it in 2000, "agents of intolerance." Who are they to tell me that I can't marry a man already in a relationship? If there really is a war on marriage, the facebook is fighting back.***
But I digress.
I should take this time to remind you that I was still heartbroken at having just ended my relationship with Deanna,**** and was now facing the dream-crushing reality that I would not be able to marry Erik (without, you know, getting him to change his status first). In my despair, I turned for comfort to the person who I knew for certain would always give me a soft landing. I married Kyle.
And to my everlasting joy, he said yes.
The next day I opened my facebook account to find a note from a high school friend with whom I've lost touch.
"booke! whats up buddy... married now i see. is it true? congrats!"
"Uh oh," I thought, "better hide that news feed as well before this gets out of hand."
I did, and moved on with my day, comfortably certain that I had nipped that potentially embarrassing/confusing situation in the bud.
The next day I signed on again, this time to a message from a college friend.
"You look so happy together."
Look so happy together? Wait...what?
And then I scrolled up. To my profile picture. The one of Bryce and I. Smiling. Together. Where I am embracing him from behind. In tuxedos. In a church.*****
At which point I started laughing hysterically.
The end.
p.s.- Since then I have gotten two more priceless wall posts, also from an old friend:
first post: "um, did I just read on your profile you are married???? um...que paso?"
second post: "wait that is a dude, OK, so your not married... But you are in a 559 area code, i guess we have some catching up to do =)"
Hahahahahahahahahaha.
Life is great.
*Seinfeld. Still sorely missed.
**Which also doesn't make it any less fun to call them quitters.
***I'm pretty sure that's what they use the money for from selling gifts.
****Albeit only on the facebook. Hi Deanna!
*****She's right, we do look happy in that picture.
So this whole thing started when both Deanna and Brianne quit the facebook (which is totally fine by the way, I understand why they did it**).
I mean, it hurt a little bit that two people very close to me were just checking out of reality, but that's their choice.
But back to the issue at hand.
Being that my girlfriend had quit the facebook, and Erik's girlfriend had quit the facebook, I decided to take this once in a lifetime opportunity to marry Erik on the facebook and live happily ever after. In the "fake marriage on the internet to one of my best friends" sense of the word, of course.
So I shed a tear, changed my relationship status, and prepared to make my move on Erik. Not wanting people to rush to my side and comfort me in my fake time of need I hid the news feed story of my recent breakup.
Ok, I'll be honest. The pain was real, but it was just too soon.
Everything was going about as well as could be expected under the circumstances. But my happy life turned emotional nightmare was about to get worse. Erik was still listed as being in a relationship. (Note to Erik: She's gone man, give it up. It's time to face facts and move on. I have). This was a big problem for me, because apparently being listed as already in a relationship is enough for the staff of the facebook to deny a potential marriage request. My sense is that they are, as John McCain so eloquently put it in 2000, "agents of intolerance." Who are they to tell me that I can't marry a man already in a relationship? If there really is a war on marriage, the facebook is fighting back.***
But I digress.
I should take this time to remind you that I was still heartbroken at having just ended my relationship with Deanna,**** and was now facing the dream-crushing reality that I would not be able to marry Erik (without, you know, getting him to change his status first). In my despair, I turned for comfort to the person who I knew for certain would always give me a soft landing. I married Kyle.
And to my everlasting joy, he said yes.
The next day I opened my facebook account to find a note from a high school friend with whom I've lost touch.
"booke! whats up buddy... married now i see. is it true? congrats!"
"Uh oh," I thought, "better hide that news feed as well before this gets out of hand."
I did, and moved on with my day, comfortably certain that I had nipped that potentially embarrassing/confusing situation in the bud.
The next day I signed on again, this time to a message from a college friend.
"You look so happy together."
Look so happy together? Wait...what?
And then I scrolled up. To my profile picture. The one of Bryce and I. Smiling. Together. Where I am embracing him from behind. In tuxedos. In a church.*****
At which point I started laughing hysterically.
The end.
p.s.- Since then I have gotten two more priceless wall posts, also from an old friend:
first post: "um, did I just read on your profile you are married???? um...que paso?"
second post: "wait that is a dude, OK, so your not married... But you are in a 559 area code, i guess we have some catching up to do =)"
Hahahahahahahahahaha.
Life is great.
*Seinfeld. Still sorely missed.
**Which also doesn't make it any less fun to call them quitters.
***I'm pretty sure that's what they use the money for from selling gifts.
****Albeit only on the facebook. Hi Deanna!
*****She's right, we do look happy in that picture.
Thursday, October 04, 2007
Mommy wow...
I will be showing up in another newspaper this week, albeit the decidedly less well-known Sierra Vista Herald. Still, press is press. Haha.
This morning found me getting off the phone with a friend so that I could "strongly speak with" (read: lecture) an actual adult. You know, the kind with a mortgage and kids and stuff like that.
And then later today I ended up in a meeting, a business meeting, with a minister who knows my mom.
My life, as ever, is extremely weird.
All of this to say, I think I might actually be turning into an adult. The first year out of college you really feel like a fraud. You know that you don't go to class or eat at the dining hall, but you also haven't really proven anything. When people treat you like an adult you begin to think, "I don't actually know what I'm doing here...you probably want to ask someone else." But people keep asking you to do things. And you keep doing them. And slowly you find that you are useful and competent and responsible. More or less.
Days like today make you realize that, while not there yet, you're a lot closer than you used to be.
And strangely enough, that you like it.
I still listen to Mxpx and like my skateboard more than my car though.
Think of this as the teaser blog to a "The Quarter Life: Career" post. Coming soon to an internet near you.
The blog title was too much, wasn't it? Like I said, not grown up yet...
This morning found me getting off the phone with a friend so that I could "strongly speak with" (read: lecture) an actual adult. You know, the kind with a mortgage and kids and stuff like that.
And then later today I ended up in a meeting, a business meeting, with a minister who knows my mom.
My life, as ever, is extremely weird.
All of this to say, I think I might actually be turning into an adult. The first year out of college you really feel like a fraud. You know that you don't go to class or eat at the dining hall, but you also haven't really proven anything. When people treat you like an adult you begin to think, "I don't actually know what I'm doing here...you probably want to ask someone else." But people keep asking you to do things. And you keep doing them. And slowly you find that you are useful and competent and responsible. More or less.
Days like today make you realize that, while not there yet, you're a lot closer than you used to be.
And strangely enough, that you like it.
I still listen to Mxpx and like my skateboard more than my car though.
Think of this as the teaser blog to a "The Quarter Life: Career" post. Coming soon to an internet near you.
The blog title was too much, wasn't it? Like I said, not grown up yet...
Thursday, September 20, 2007
"Maybe I'm wrong on this one, but for me, the beast doesn't include selling out. Garth, you know what I'm talking about, right?"*
From last week's Toronto Star:
It's a good article. I don't care much for the headline though. What is an "illegal?" I was not an English major, but I do believe that illegal is an adjective, not a noun. So an illegal what? An illegal alien? An illegal worker? Try putting in "human being" and seeing how that sounds. "U.S. action on illegal human beings has a cost." Sounds strange doesn't it? Rhetoric matters. Words count.
On an unrelated note, this article makes me feel like somewhat of a fraud. None of this really impacts my life. I won't come home to find out that my dad has been deported. I won't lose my job.
That being said, I am, on a lot of levels, pleased. Proud smile. Heh.
When I was interviewed for this story I knew that it would end up in one of the largest papers in Toronto, which in turn is one of the largest cities in Canada. But actually seeing it? That's just weird.
*Wayne Campbell
"U.S. action on illegals has a cost"
Sep 10, 2007 04:30 AM
Craig and Marc Kielburger
The aging white school bus sits conspicuously in the Burger King parking lot. It's idle now but will soon make the 10-minute trek across the border from Arizona into Mexico.
There the bus will fill with Mexicans, who then cross the border on tourist visas. They won't be sightseeing though – they're going to work. "Wal-Mart" is scrawled on the windshield, leaving little doubt about where they are headed.
This is just one of countless ways that migrants from Latin America enter the United States to find jobs illegally. With upward of 12 million undocumented migrants in America, they make up a sizeable portion of the country's workforce.
Thanks to a crackdown expected this week, that may soon change.
American employers now face more than $10,000 in fines and even jail time if they hire illegal workers. Industries from restaurants and hotels to farms and construction now have 90 days to fire employees without a valid social security number.
While it's always been illegal to hire undocumented workers, most officials have turned a blind eye.
After June's failed immigration reform, the tighter regulations may appease Americans opposed to open borders – a hotbed issue in the upcoming election. But they'll have disastrous side-effects.
"It's going to be terrible for employees, terrible for businesses and terrible for customers," says Aaron Boeke, of Frontera de Cristo, a migrant rights group. "If you want to see the economy tank overnight, this is a good way to do it."
Boeke says few realize how integral illegal workers are to the economy, especially as manual labourers. Without them, businesses will lose millions of low-paid employees, causing prices to go up, he said.
"People don't realize their Chinese food is made by Mexicans," Boeke says. "They have oranges in December because of Mexicans."
Employees like Cesar, who worked illegally on a California farm for 20 years before being deported last month. The Guatemalan, who did not want to give his last name, says the American economy cannot function without illegal workers like himself.
"When we work for them, the economy is normal," he says from a migrant shelter in Mexico. "They make money because we work for almost nothing. We work for $6 an hour, but Americans won't."
Indeed, California stands to lose most from this latest crackdown, with 2.5 million illegals – more than anywhere else in the country – many employed by farmers, who rely on Latin American field hands.
All are now on the verge of unemployment. If they and other undocumented workers lose their jobs, the money they send home will dry up. Most illegal migrants support impoverished relatives, so the consequences of firing them would ripple throughout Latin America.
"People are coming because their families are hungry, their children are crying," Cesar explains. "Why doesn't the American government think about them?"
As the crackdown begins, only time will tell just what impact it will have on the economy, and millions of undocumented workers.
Boeke believes it will be impossible to enforce the tighter laws, and as prices of fruit and other goods start to rise, consumers will force the government to back down.
"Once it starts affecting business, there will be a backlash," he says.
But until then, undocumented workers like Cesar can only lay low – and keep their fingers crossed.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Craig and Marc Kielburger are children's rights activists and co-founded Free The Children, which is active in the developing world. Online: Craig and Marc Kielburger discuss global issues every Monday in the World & Comment section. Take part in the discussion online at thestar.com/globalvoices.
It's a good article. I don't care much for the headline though. What is an "illegal?" I was not an English major, but I do believe that illegal is an adjective, not a noun. So an illegal what? An illegal alien? An illegal worker? Try putting in "human being" and seeing how that sounds. "U.S. action on illegal human beings has a cost." Sounds strange doesn't it? Rhetoric matters. Words count.
On an unrelated note, this article makes me feel like somewhat of a fraud. None of this really impacts my life. I won't come home to find out that my dad has been deported. I won't lose my job.
That being said, I am, on a lot of levels, pleased. Proud smile. Heh.
When I was interviewed for this story I knew that it would end up in one of the largest papers in Toronto, which in turn is one of the largest cities in Canada. But actually seeing it? That's just weird.
*Wayne Campbell
Thursday, September 13, 2007
The things I don't talk about.
Every time I go to the Border Patrol station in Douglas I hear or see something that makes me physically ill. I always forget that I will feel this way. I always feel this way.
I really like the way Bryce writes. I'm copying his style right now.
I am proud of every single one of my friends.
I attend a Catholic church. I don't believe that the bread is really Jesus' body, but I still love to kneel every Sunday.
I would rather be good than happy. But I'd rather be happy and good.
I go back and forth between being proud of my creativity and thinking I am not a very creative person.
I don't want to post this.
I'm going to post it anyway.
Sometimes I think that I am not very good at my job.
Sometimes I think that I am awesome at my job.
I never want to be defined by my job.
I'm going to be in Colorado in November. I am very excited.
Deanna is going to visit me. Sometimes when people say things to me I am glad that she doesn't know how to speak Spanish.
She reads this blog.
I really like to cook. I never knew that before this year.
I am very good friends with a man who works for Raytheon making missiles. I read two publications put out by Focus on the Family. I drink Coca-Cola when I am in Mexico. I don't like missiles, Dobson's theology, or corporate soda.
I was never taught to use grammar and that makes me self-conscious when I write.
I have never gotten in the habit of proof-reading my writing.
A lack of grammar skills and an aversion to proof-reading is not a promising combination.
I just got a phone call from a man who needs diapers and baby formula.
I don't give money out to people because I don't want them to use it for drugs.
I am going to the store right now to buy the diapers.
My phone number is changing. I'll call you when I know what it is.
I really like the way Bryce writes. I'm copying his style right now.
I am proud of every single one of my friends.
I attend a Catholic church. I don't believe that the bread is really Jesus' body, but I still love to kneel every Sunday.
I would rather be good than happy. But I'd rather be happy and good.
I go back and forth between being proud of my creativity and thinking I am not a very creative person.
I don't want to post this.
I'm going to post it anyway.
Sometimes I think that I am not very good at my job.
Sometimes I think that I am awesome at my job.
I never want to be defined by my job.
I'm going to be in Colorado in November. I am very excited.
Deanna is going to visit me. Sometimes when people say things to me I am glad that she doesn't know how to speak Spanish.
She reads this blog.
I really like to cook. I never knew that before this year.
I am very good friends with a man who works for Raytheon making missiles. I read two publications put out by Focus on the Family. I drink Coca-Cola when I am in Mexico. I don't like missiles, Dobson's theology, or corporate soda.
I was never taught to use grammar and that makes me self-conscious when I write.
I have never gotten in the habit of proof-reading my writing.
A lack of grammar skills and an aversion to proof-reading is not a promising combination.
I just got a phone call from a man who needs diapers and baby formula.
I don't give money out to people because I don't want them to use it for drugs.
I am going to the store right now to buy the diapers.
My phone number is changing. I'll call you when I know what it is.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Pride for the Alma Mater
Deanna, speaking to a friend of hers in Los Angeles:
Friend: "He went to Pomona? Oh, I know those kind of people."
Deanna: "What do you mean?"
Friend: "You know, the kind of people to pick up a book and walk into the mountains. They're deep."
Our fame grows.
p.s.- According to wikipedia, "alma mater" means "nourishing mother." Weird.
p.p.s- Alternate blog title: Overheard in Los Angeles.
Friend: "He went to Pomona? Oh, I know those kind of people."
Deanna: "What do you mean?"
Friend: "You know, the kind of people to pick up a book and walk into the mountains. They're deep."
Our fame grows.
p.s.- According to wikipedia, "alma mater" means "nourishing mother." Weird.
p.p.s- Alternate blog title: Overheard in Los Angeles.
Friday, August 17, 2007
"We got older, but we're still young"
So I'm back from Portland. Which was...well, I'll just say it was. Fun. Difficult. Interesting. And now I'm back.
I have had much less time this summer to blog, to reflect about my work/life/community here, and to read what other people are saying. I really miss all of that. I'm going to try and make it a part of my weekly life again in the coming months, but we'll see how that goes.
For today, I just wanted to say hello, say that I'm doing just fine in this new job of mine, and say that I think you're all swell people. More on that one later.
Perhaps one anecdote before I go. (This one's for Bryce)
When I was in the Sacramento airport (for many hours) I saw a man wearing a shirt that said "estar guars." In English that means nothing. In Spanish that means "to be guars," which is also nothing.
BUT
If you take a stereotypically Spanish accent and apply it to the words "Star Wars", then "estar guars" would be exactly what you would get. I don't know if anyone else in the airport thought it was funny, but I'm still laughing two weeks later.
I have had much less time this summer to blog, to reflect about my work/life/community here, and to read what other people are saying. I really miss all of that. I'm going to try and make it a part of my weekly life again in the coming months, but we'll see how that goes.
For today, I just wanted to say hello, say that I'm doing just fine in this new job of mine, and say that I think you're all swell people. More on that one later.
Perhaps one anecdote before I go. (This one's for Bryce)
When I was in the Sacramento airport (for many hours) I saw a man wearing a shirt that said "estar guars." In English that means nothing. In Spanish that means "to be guars," which is also nothing.
BUT
If you take a stereotypically Spanish accent and apply it to the words "Star Wars", then "estar guars" would be exactly what you would get. I don't know if anyone else in the airport thought it was funny, but I'm still laughing two weeks later.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Let Me Light Up the Sky
A little update about what's happening down in these parts:
I was gone last week in Hermosillo, the capital of Sonora, with Tucson's very own Northminster Presbyterian Church. It was the classic high school summer mission trip: construction, vacation Bible school, and pranks. I was a little bit worried about this trip as I have more than a few reservations about teaching high school students that a week of pouring cement is what the Gospel is supposed to look like. Not surprisingly, I was wrong and God is good. The kids were great. The church that we are helping to start in Hermosillo is great. The leaders were great. And I just loved it.
The rains have come and I am unbelievably excited. Everything is green. Monsoons are beautiful to watch.
This week I am saying goodbye to our summer intern and new friend Caroline, my roommate and partner in crime Meghan, and my "boss" (he hates that word) Mark and his family. Tomorrow Mark will be gone and I'll enter a new time of service here. I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't anxious. But I'm excited as well.
Next week I'll be in Portland with my sister, my brother, my mom, my dad, and my Steve. I'm looking forward to that. Oregon here I come.
I was gone last week in Hermosillo, the capital of Sonora, with Tucson's very own Northminster Presbyterian Church. It was the classic high school summer mission trip: construction, vacation Bible school, and pranks. I was a little bit worried about this trip as I have more than a few reservations about teaching high school students that a week of pouring cement is what the Gospel is supposed to look like. Not surprisingly, I was wrong and God is good. The kids were great. The church that we are helping to start in Hermosillo is great. The leaders were great. And I just loved it.
The rains have come and I am unbelievably excited. Everything is green. Monsoons are beautiful to watch.
This week I am saying goodbye to our summer intern and new friend Caroline, my roommate and partner in crime Meghan, and my "boss" (he hates that word) Mark and his family. Tomorrow Mark will be gone and I'll enter a new time of service here. I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't anxious. But I'm excited as well.
Next week I'll be in Portland with my sister, my brother, my mom, my dad, and my Steve. I'm looking forward to that. Oregon here I come.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
It doesn't get any better than Colorado in the summer.
It really doesn't. A few of my favorite things:
The mountains. Oh the glory that the Lord has made.
Backpacking. And stupid pictures.
Horsehawks (it's gone now, but it was glorious while it lasted).
Chris. So classic.
The foam party. It's the place to see and be seen in AP.
That's a lot of man. Carried by some great men. I love you guys.
The mountains. Oh the glory that the Lord has made.
Backpacking. And stupid pictures.
Horsehawks (it's gone now, but it was glorious while it lasted).
Puppies
Chris. So classic.
Big B and Baby. So proud.
Family.
The dart game. A new favorite.
Mountain lakes and no shoes.
The foam party. It's the place to see and be seen in AP.
Disc golf.
Summer. YEAH!
Manfection. I suppose this blog was never G Rated. Now it's definitely not. But Travis in a bra was too good not to share.
That's a lot of man. Carried by some great men. I love you guys.Tuesday, July 10, 2007
"I let you down, forgive me. I'm a puppy for your love. Forgive me, yeah."*
Well, that just about says it. I'm sorry. I'm writing this several weeks (one month even?) after I promised a post on my migrant trail experience. I think we all know how that turned out.
So once again, I'm sorry. And I think I owe you an explanation as well.
Since I last saw all of you on the internets I have been waging a massive campaign to enjoy life in the summer. The score so far is Aaron: 1 Boredom: 0.
I spent a solid two weeks in Colorado, marrying Bryce off to the lovely Mrs. Kate Perica, climbing mountains, eating Mexican food (not sick of it yet!), and staying up until all hours of the morning (the main culprits for that being Guitar Hero:II and Erik Haagenson).
And now I'm back in the saddle at F de Cristo in good old DouglaPrieta, Sonorizona.
For the record, blogger has a great deal of explaining to do as well. I tried to post about a) the migrant trail, b) why I hadn't posted about the migrant trail, or c) my mohawk (pictures coming soon) several times, but each time it was freaking out and wouldn't let me. Don't worry we've reconciled.
One final thought before I go. Today is the first day that I have sat down to read my blog roll in about a month. In the physical presence of one another, our little bloggermunity has done almost no posting. I think that's great.
*The title comes from the one and only Dave Matthews. Dave Matthews+Colorado+Summer= Love
So once again, I'm sorry. And I think I owe you an explanation as well.
Since I last saw all of you on the internets I have been waging a massive campaign to enjoy life in the summer. The score so far is Aaron: 1 Boredom: 0.
I spent a solid two weeks in Colorado, marrying Bryce off to the lovely Mrs. Kate Perica, climbing mountains, eating Mexican food (not sick of it yet!), and staying up until all hours of the morning (the main culprits for that being Guitar Hero:II and Erik Haagenson).
And now I'm back in the saddle at F de Cristo in good old DouglaPrieta, Sonorizona.
For the record, blogger has a great deal of explaining to do as well. I tried to post about a) the migrant trail, b) why I hadn't posted about the migrant trail, or c) my mohawk (pictures coming soon) several times, but each time it was freaking out and wouldn't let me. Don't worry we've reconciled.
One final thought before I go. Today is the first day that I have sat down to read my blog roll in about a month. In the physical presence of one another, our little bloggermunity has done almost no posting. I think that's great.
*The title comes from the one and only Dave Matthews. Dave Matthews+Colorado+Summer= Love
Friday, May 18, 2007
Double-Double (Animal Style), Fries, and A Chocolate Shake
I'm in Tucson right now to drop off one of our volunteers at the airport. I'm staying for the weekend because:
A) Saves the Day is playing a show here tomorrow, my first show since last summer's The Format/Anathallo tour. Saves is one of my top ten favorite bands ever. Here's a classic from Through Being Cool, "Shoulder to the Wheel."
and
B) In-N-Out Burger opened a restaurant in Tucson. Apparently the line is over an hour long. I'm going right now, and bringing a book.
Mmmm. It's been far too long.
A) Saves the Day is playing a show here tomorrow, my first show since last summer's The Format/Anathallo tour. Saves is one of my top ten favorite bands ever. Here's a classic from Through Being Cool, "Shoulder to the Wheel."
and
B) In-N-Out Burger opened a restaurant in Tucson. Apparently the line is over an hour long. I'm going right now, and bringing a book.
Mmmm. It's been far too long.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
PG-13 Blogging: Some Mild Sexual Content
"Chasing Cars" by Snow Patrol plays on MTV Mexico in the background of the restaurant.
Friend: Ugh. Why do people like this song?
Me: Sabe. (Spanish for "who knows?")
Friend: It's on all of the time.
Me: Yeah, I just don't get it. It's not even catchy. Just...long and boring.
Friend: I have a theory about this actually, but it's very Freudian.
Me: Freudian?
Friend: Yeah, I developed it after Death Cab's "Transatlanticism" became really popular.
Me: I like that album. And I really like that song.
Friend: Me too, but it's very Freudian.
Me: Ok, explain.
Friend: People like things that are very repetitive and then climax.
Me: Hahahahahahaha
Friend: Ugh. Why do people like this song?
Me: Sabe. (Spanish for "who knows?")
Friend: It's on all of the time.
Me: Yeah, I just don't get it. It's not even catchy. Just...long and boring.
Friend: I have a theory about this actually, but it's very Freudian.
Me: Freudian?
Friend: Yeah, I developed it after Death Cab's "Transatlanticism" became really popular.
Me: I like that album. And I really like that song.
Friend: Me too, but it's very Freudian.
Me: Ok, explain.
Friend: People like things that are very repetitive and then climax.
Me: Hahahahahahaha
Monday, May 14, 2007
"It sounds prettier in Spanish"
Spanish is really the only language that I've ever tried to learn. I suppose that I learned a little bit of German over the years, and a passable amount of Lugandan considering how many people around me could speak English, but Spanish is the language that has been with me for more than a decade. And I'm finally becoming pretty decent at it.
I am still far from fluent, but I have gotten to the point that I can understand, more or less, more than 90% of what is said to me. More importantly, I can joke around with people and figure out what's supposed to be funny when people are joking around with me.
And I can finally appreciate what a fun and beautiful language that it is. I find myself so intrigued and entertained by the way different words translate, the phrases that I have learned, and the rhythm of speaking in a tongue that flows much more smoothly than the one I grew up with.
Here's a little Spanish lesson for you.
Try this one: "taco de ojo," (ta-ko deh o-ho)which, translated literally, means "eye taco." In the U.S. we would use the expression "eye candy." An "eye taco." I love it.
ex: Who him? Nah, no brains, he's just an eye taco.
Or how about my new favorite verb, "enchilarse?" Enchilarse means, literally, "to chile one's self."
ex: Waiter, please bring me some hot sauce, I'd like to chili myself.
It's a very intimate language as well. For example, if you want to say "my son" in Spanish the exact translation is "mi hijo," (me e-ho) but the version that everyone uses in Agua Prieta is the shortened "mijo" (me-ho). My favorite part is that it can be used for people who are not your children. Lots of people call me mijo, and I call lots of little kids mijo/mija.
ex: Did you hurt yourself mijo?
My favorite linguistic moments in Spanish usually have to do with God, though. Take the word pastor for example. In Spanish, "pastor" (paz-stor) is exactly the same as it is in English(albeit with a different pronunciation), but unlike in English its literal meaning is "shepard." So Pastor Glenn is literally Shepard Glenn. I think that's so cool.
Another really great one is the verb "amor." In English, love gets used for everything (my car, my sister, my vacation), but in Spanish "amor" is only possible between people or with God.
And then there is the concept of Grace. In Spanish, asking God to forgive you means saying "perdoname," literally, pardon me. Think about what we use pardon for in English. And the word for mercy, "misericordia," literally has the root of the word misery in it. Perfect.
I am still far from fluent, but I have gotten to the point that I can understand, more or less, more than 90% of what is said to me. More importantly, I can joke around with people and figure out what's supposed to be funny when people are joking around with me.
And I can finally appreciate what a fun and beautiful language that it is. I find myself so intrigued and entertained by the way different words translate, the phrases that I have learned, and the rhythm of speaking in a tongue that flows much more smoothly than the one I grew up with.
Here's a little Spanish lesson for you.
Try this one: "taco de ojo," (ta-ko deh o-ho)which, translated literally, means "eye taco." In the U.S. we would use the expression "eye candy." An "eye taco." I love it.
ex: Who him? Nah, no brains, he's just an eye taco.
Or how about my new favorite verb, "enchilarse?" Enchilarse means, literally, "to chile one's self."
ex: Waiter, please bring me some hot sauce, I'd like to chili myself.
It's a very intimate language as well. For example, if you want to say "my son" in Spanish the exact translation is "mi hijo," (me e-ho) but the version that everyone uses in Agua Prieta is the shortened "mijo" (me-ho). My favorite part is that it can be used for people who are not your children. Lots of people call me mijo, and I call lots of little kids mijo/mija.
ex: Did you hurt yourself mijo?
My favorite linguistic moments in Spanish usually have to do with God, though. Take the word pastor for example. In Spanish, "pastor" (paz-stor) is exactly the same as it is in English(albeit with a different pronunciation), but unlike in English its literal meaning is "shepard." So Pastor Glenn is literally Shepard Glenn. I think that's so cool.
Another really great one is the verb "amor." In English, love gets used for everything (my car, my sister, my vacation), but in Spanish "amor" is only possible between people or with God.
And then there is the concept of Grace. In Spanish, asking God to forgive you means saying "perdoname," literally, pardon me. Think about what we use pardon for in English. And the word for mercy, "misericordia," literally has the root of the word misery in it. Perfect.
Saturday, April 28, 2007
The Quarter Life: Romantic Relationships Rd. 2
My great friend Mike wrote a really amazing piece for the last Quarter Life. Check it out here.
After writing my last installment of The Quarter Life I got a comment from my friend Lexie asking me to answer some questions she had about that post. Here are a few of my thoughts. Anything for a friend, Lex.
I think that experience, the experience of ourselves in a relationship, and the experience of an intimate encounter with another person, is probably the strongest argument out there for why dating is a fantastic idea. I have learned a great deal about myself from dating. I have also learned a tremendous amount about women/men/God/life/love/etc. from dating, much more than I could ever possibly relate to you here. And learning for learning's sake, as any liberal arts grad will tell you, is a very good thing. Unfortunately, most of what I learned from some of those relationships was learned the hard way. And just because I learned something does not mean that those relationships were a good idea to begin with, or functional by any stretch of the imagination. Calling some of them relationships, in all honesty, might be too kind. Was some of that hardship and hurt necessary? Possibly. Immaturity, "life issues," ideas about what dating should be, etc., all played their part in making some of my past relationships memorable for all the wrong reasons. But poor choices about when and who I should date did not make things any better.
So "learning about yourself" is great, but it can be a messy and dangerous affair. Even more so if that is your primary, or only purpose, in dating that specific person. Going into a relationship (or even a date) thinking "I like them-ish," while not a sure recipe for disaster, does raise some ethical questions. Starting to date someone without a clear sense of why you are doing it or what you want out of it opens yourself up to a host of complications, but it also leaves you very much in danger of hurting the other person. Do they share your vision of dating? If not, your "learning about yourself" could be their "getting rejected by someone I really, really liked." Like I said in my last post, I don't believe that we date because we desire it, but because we must. Ideally the two coincide.
Dating in the right context is clearly very good. To put this in a somewhat (ok, very) crude manner, marriage is not a product that we should buy without shopping around a little bit first. So in that sense, I'm all for dating. I'm just not all for dating every person (or even most people) that come your way. In high school there were a few girls that I should have asked out on a date but didn't because I was afraid of rejection. Clearly that was not a healthy way to date (or, more specifically, not to date). I also dated a girl in high school that I barely knew because she came on to me very strongly (i.e. I knew that rejection wasn't likely) and that turned out, not surprisingly, very poorly. In the first example I needed more initiative, in the second, more wisdom and self-control.
I personally don't believe that a "season of dating" is a very good idea for many reasons, but for a few especially compelling ones in particular. Relationships, ideally, are special. We value our family (in many cases) more highly than our friends, and our friends more highly than our acquaintances. This formula (there's that word again) becomes more complicated when we insert Christ into our lives, but I won't go into that here. The point is that most people feel that different types of relationships are, well, different, and that some of them are more special than others. Dating should be a special act reserved for people we really care about.
The most serious problem with a season of dating, in my opinion, is the potential for that season to turn into a long-term (or even lifetime) commitment. How many people do you know who started seeing someone casually ("just to see"/hooking up at parties/season of dating/we're just friends) and just never stopped? This scenario doesn't always end badly, I can think of many happy couples who started off this way. But is it something to which we should aspire? What other major life choices do we take "just try it out" or "we'll see what happens" attitudes with? Is that how you chose a college? Plan to buy a house? This might make me conservative, but I think that dating is something to be respected and, in some sense, feared. In my experience it is much easier to never date someone at all than to stop dating them once the process has been started. And once you start dating, going back to being friends is always a difficult process. In many cases it simply doesn't work. Since most people that you will ever meet are going to be friends instead of dates, why not preserve those friendships rather than explore dating just because it's fun?
I also think that a "season of dating" sort of misses the point of a "season of not dating." At various times I have resisted the urge to enter into potentially great dating situations because of time constraints/outside pressures/personal issues/need to grow with God/whatever. But that should be the exception, not the rule. The default for any single Christian should be "available for dating," unless there is other work in your life that needs to be done. For many of us, there is. So a season of not dating is a way to recognize a unique situation and make an intentional choice about it. A season of dating, to me, seems like a license to do things that you wouldn't do otherwise. "I don't really like him that much, but I'm trying to date a lot right now." See my point? What prompts a season of dating? Why doesn't that prompt being open to dating in general, as long as the person is right?
When I think back on just my time here in Agua Prieta, let alone college, there are a number of women that I probably could have started dating at one time or another. I do not believe that any of those relationships would have been a very good choice. So my dating here has been more than conservative, it has been non-existent. But I believe it has also been the most healthy and faithful choice that I could have made. I haven't done it perfectly, but it could have been a lot worse.
I have some more thoughts that I could but I think I'll leave it at that. I'd love to hear what you (or any of you) have to say about this.
After writing my last installment of The Quarter Life I got a comment from my friend Lexie asking me to answer some questions she had about that post. Here are a few of my thoughts. Anything for a friend, Lex.
Very conservative philosophy Aaron!! This reminds me of a guy i dated in high school who broke up with me by saying "I can live without you." it made me so mad. Anyhoo, what do you think of dating just to learn more about yourself/others? Like the Townsend/McCloud philosophy? Or the idea of focusing on dating itself/trying to date a lot as a particular season, much like seasons of intentionally not dating?
I think that experience, the experience of ourselves in a relationship, and the experience of an intimate encounter with another person, is probably the strongest argument out there for why dating is a fantastic idea. I have learned a great deal about myself from dating. I have also learned a tremendous amount about women/men/God/life/love/etc. from dating, much more than I could ever possibly relate to you here. And learning for learning's sake, as any liberal arts grad will tell you, is a very good thing. Unfortunately, most of what I learned from some of those relationships was learned the hard way. And just because I learned something does not mean that those relationships were a good idea to begin with, or functional by any stretch of the imagination. Calling some of them relationships, in all honesty, might be too kind. Was some of that hardship and hurt necessary? Possibly. Immaturity, "life issues," ideas about what dating should be, etc., all played their part in making some of my past relationships memorable for all the wrong reasons. But poor choices about when and who I should date did not make things any better.
So "learning about yourself" is great, but it can be a messy and dangerous affair. Even more so if that is your primary, or only purpose, in dating that specific person. Going into a relationship (or even a date) thinking "I like them-ish," while not a sure recipe for disaster, does raise some ethical questions. Starting to date someone without a clear sense of why you are doing it or what you want out of it opens yourself up to a host of complications, but it also leaves you very much in danger of hurting the other person. Do they share your vision of dating? If not, your "learning about yourself" could be their "getting rejected by someone I really, really liked." Like I said in my last post, I don't believe that we date because we desire it, but because we must. Ideally the two coincide.
Dating in the right context is clearly very good. To put this in a somewhat (ok, very) crude manner, marriage is not a product that we should buy without shopping around a little bit first. So in that sense, I'm all for dating. I'm just not all for dating every person (or even most people) that come your way. In high school there were a few girls that I should have asked out on a date but didn't because I was afraid of rejection. Clearly that was not a healthy way to date (or, more specifically, not to date). I also dated a girl in high school that I barely knew because she came on to me very strongly (i.e. I knew that rejection wasn't likely) and that turned out, not surprisingly, very poorly. In the first example I needed more initiative, in the second, more wisdom and self-control.
I personally don't believe that a "season of dating" is a very good idea for many reasons, but for a few especially compelling ones in particular. Relationships, ideally, are special. We value our family (in many cases) more highly than our friends, and our friends more highly than our acquaintances. This formula (there's that word again) becomes more complicated when we insert Christ into our lives, but I won't go into that here. The point is that most people feel that different types of relationships are, well, different, and that some of them are more special than others. Dating should be a special act reserved for people we really care about.
The most serious problem with a season of dating, in my opinion, is the potential for that season to turn into a long-term (or even lifetime) commitment. How many people do you know who started seeing someone casually ("just to see"/hooking up at parties/season of dating/we're just friends) and just never stopped? This scenario doesn't always end badly, I can think of many happy couples who started off this way. But is it something to which we should aspire? What other major life choices do we take "just try it out" or "we'll see what happens" attitudes with? Is that how you chose a college? Plan to buy a house? This might make me conservative, but I think that dating is something to be respected and, in some sense, feared. In my experience it is much easier to never date someone at all than to stop dating them once the process has been started. And once you start dating, going back to being friends is always a difficult process. In many cases it simply doesn't work. Since most people that you will ever meet are going to be friends instead of dates, why not preserve those friendships rather than explore dating just because it's fun?
I also think that a "season of dating" sort of misses the point of a "season of not dating." At various times I have resisted the urge to enter into potentially great dating situations because of time constraints/outside pressures/personal issues/need to grow with God/whatever. But that should be the exception, not the rule. The default for any single Christian should be "available for dating," unless there is other work in your life that needs to be done. For many of us, there is. So a season of not dating is a way to recognize a unique situation and make an intentional choice about it. A season of dating, to me, seems like a license to do things that you wouldn't do otherwise. "I don't really like him that much, but I'm trying to date a lot right now." See my point? What prompts a season of dating? Why doesn't that prompt being open to dating in general, as long as the person is right?
When I think back on just my time here in Agua Prieta, let alone college, there are a number of women that I probably could have started dating at one time or another. I do not believe that any of those relationships would have been a very good choice. So my dating here has been more than conservative, it has been non-existent. But I believe it has also been the most healthy and faithful choice that I could have made. I haven't done it perfectly, but it could have been a lot worse.
I have some more thoughts that I could but I think I'll leave it at that. I'd love to hear what you (or any of you) have to say about this.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
The Quarter Life: Romantic Relationships
It's the moment that you've all been waiting for, round two of The Quarter Life. My first Quarter Life, a post on friendship and community, can be found right here. Bryce's first Quarter Life post can be found here, and his new post, like all of his other fine writing, can be found over at Six Hours On Sunday.
If you're new to this blog since we started The Quarter Life I suggest checking out the old posts first to see what it is that we're doing up in here. I'm also well aware that some other folks are probably going to be jumping in on this, so if you are over the age of twenty (and under the age of thirty), and feel like writing a post for this, let me know and I will link it up here.
One final note. I have written this post from my own perspective, i.e., the perspective of a man who engages in romantic relationships exclusively with women. This is not to exclude other types of relationships, but rather to avoid speaking about things which I have not experienced for myself. Just so you know.
When I think about "romantic" relationships and the period of life that I am in right now, my thoughts immediately separate into two distinct categories. In the first category are memories of past relationships, my current thoughts about women, love, and associated nonsense, and finally, my desires and prayers for my relationships in the future.
The second category, which I must confess is substantially more active than the first at this present moment, is filled with my thoughts about, memories of, and great hopes for my friends' relationships, their better halves, and in some cases, their future spouses.
As I am prone to do, I find that I have processed the entirety of romantic love down into two neat packages: my own, and everybody else's.
I could write a monster of a blog post if I chose to talk about both of these things, so instead I think I'll just stick with myself. It's not that I don't love my friends, it's just that I'm such a great topic choice. I jest. I'm also not going to say very much about God in this post as it would stretch an already long post to the point of breaking. Instead I will say that my thoughts here are informed so deeply by my faith that to dwell on them would be like pointing out the sun when looking at the sky. And I'll leave it at that.
Ok, it's confession time. If I'm going to talk about relationships, I have to get this one out of the way: I used to have this sort of formula thing for dating. That sounds pretty sick, I know. I used it in order to figure out who I should date, and when I should date them. It's an odd thing to have to admit to. To be honest, if someone were trying to get me interested in dating their friend, finding out that said friend had a "dating formula" would just about guarantee that the two of us would never see the inside of a movie theater alone. Ah hypocrisy.
But I basically used that formula to guide my romantic life for years, and to some extent I still do. I have acquired the good sense to stop thinking about it as a formula, but much of the philosophy from those days does in fact remain. In my defense, I will say that both the formula and the philosophy were either stolen directly from my sister, or developed in the context of her own reflections about her dating experiences. And now she's happily married with a really cool dog, so it can't be all bad, right?
So what was the formula? Well before I get into that let me talk a little bit about the philosophy behind the formula. My general sense when I first started using the formula was that dating, as most of us practiced it, was a bad thing. Bad in the sense that that most of my friends and I just sort of stumbled into dating with the vague notion that it felt good and everyone else was doing it.
I did have the good sense, even at that tender age, to realize that not dating was sort of a bad idea as well. Josh Harris never convinced me that "kissing dating goodbye" was something to which I should aspire. The transition from being single to a lifetime of marriage, no matter how much some Christians (*cough Boundless webzine cough*) like to talk about "courtship," seems like it should have at least a few intermediary steps. And some of those steps should include dinner and a movie with someone you aren't committed to sharing a bed with for the rest of your earthly days.
So my formula for dating was born from a sense that dating is a great thing when practiced with extreme restraint. And the formula helped me to figure out when I should enter into the wonderful mystery that is a relationship, and when it'd be best if I just stayed clear of it and, sigh, her, altogether.
Here's the formula: If I began to like a woman, that is to say, favored her above any of the other women in my acquaintance, the first step I would take was to hurry up and wait. Doing nothing was a key strategy in my dating formula. Why nothing? Well, nothing gives you a lot of time for the deer-in-the-headlights attraction to go away and a little bit of clear thinking to return to the situation. That incredibly smart/attractive/fun girl in my Women's Studies class? Also a devout atheist. Hmmm, guess it's a good thing I didn't ask her to dinner. To be quite honest, doing nothing is what I have done for most of my life. I have spent years doing nothing with one girl or another. I'm great at doing nothing.
And that's basically the way that the formula works. It's nothing if not simple. If you notice yourself liking a girl, the most important thing that you can possibly do is to say nothing to her and never do anything about it. Nothing is the backbone of the whole system.
Ok, you got me. The one problem with my formula is that if you always do nothing then there's a pretty good chance that you will never date anyone. Ever. That's not a formula, that's a religious order. It's a fair criticism. This is where the exception clause comes in. You always do nothing until someone comes along who is so compelling that you absolutely must must make an exception for them. So you break the cardinal commandment of doing nothing and you actually say something to her. You might even ask her name. Kidding.
At this stage in life there are always good reasons why, at any given time, I probably shouldn't be dating. And there are always pretty compelling reasons why I shouldn't be dating most of the women that I might be interested in. But sometimes you meet someone so great that none of that matters. So dating, in my opinion, should be reserved for the times when that woman is so incredible that not getting into a relationship with her would be a folly of the highest order.
And this is where I can start to get myself into trouble. The thing is, I know A LOT of incredible women. A multitude. A plethora. A surplus even. I know more awesome women than I can be friends with, let alone date. But clearly I am not trying very hard given that I am currently seeing none of them. Which is an observation that actually takes us into a different philosophy I have on relationships. The "table" philosophy, as I like to call it.
The four legs of any successful relationship (hence the table) are spiritual, intellectual, relational, and physical. I think that's pretty self-explanatory. For a relationship to work, two people need to be compatible in those four ways. And as most of us know, that isn't exactly easy to achieve. So the question is not "Is this girl amazing?" but rather "Is this girl amazing for me?" Because of this the question "Are you dating anyone right now?" always struck me as mostly harmless, but the ensuing "Would you like to be?" always rubbed me the wrong way. Dating, I have always believed, is something that you embark upon not because you would like to at any given time, but because you encounter someone so incredible that you have no other choice but to share at least some part of your life with them.
And so that's where I'm at. I've stopped using the formula, but I'm still using the philosophy. I still look at dating with quite a bit of hesitancy, and at marriage with a sense that "I really want this- at some point in the future." And I still weigh my interest in women (one woman at a time, naturally) against whether or not dating one of them is the only sensible thing I could possibly do. Not very romantic, I know. But I hope that it's fair to me and fair to potential partners, and I pray that it's faithful. And one day in the future I believe that it will lead me to someone to hike with, watch BOTH versions of "Pride and Prejudice" with, to argue with, and to play with. Most importantly, I pray that it will bring me into the steady presence of someone who will travel with me on a path that will bring both of us closer to the people that God would have us be.
That is just about as close to living happily ever after as I would care to have it.
If you're new to this blog since we started The Quarter Life I suggest checking out the old posts first to see what it is that we're doing up in here. I'm also well aware that some other folks are probably going to be jumping in on this, so if you are over the age of twenty (and under the age of thirty), and feel like writing a post for this, let me know and I will link it up here.
One final note. I have written this post from my own perspective, i.e., the perspective of a man who engages in romantic relationships exclusively with women. This is not to exclude other types of relationships, but rather to avoid speaking about things which I have not experienced for myself. Just so you know.
When I think about "romantic" relationships and the period of life that I am in right now, my thoughts immediately separate into two distinct categories. In the first category are memories of past relationships, my current thoughts about women, love, and associated nonsense, and finally, my desires and prayers for my relationships in the future.
The second category, which I must confess is substantially more active than the first at this present moment, is filled with my thoughts about, memories of, and great hopes for my friends' relationships, their better halves, and in some cases, their future spouses.
As I am prone to do, I find that I have processed the entirety of romantic love down into two neat packages: my own, and everybody else's.
I could write a monster of a blog post if I chose to talk about both of these things, so instead I think I'll just stick with myself. It's not that I don't love my friends, it's just that I'm such a great topic choice. I jest. I'm also not going to say very much about God in this post as it would stretch an already long post to the point of breaking. Instead I will say that my thoughts here are informed so deeply by my faith that to dwell on them would be like pointing out the sun when looking at the sky. And I'll leave it at that.
Ok, it's confession time. If I'm going to talk about relationships, I have to get this one out of the way: I used to have this sort of formula thing for dating. That sounds pretty sick, I know. I used it in order to figure out who I should date, and when I should date them. It's an odd thing to have to admit to. To be honest, if someone were trying to get me interested in dating their friend, finding out that said friend had a "dating formula" would just about guarantee that the two of us would never see the inside of a movie theater alone. Ah hypocrisy.
But I basically used that formula to guide my romantic life for years, and to some extent I still do. I have acquired the good sense to stop thinking about it as a formula, but much of the philosophy from those days does in fact remain. In my defense, I will say that both the formula and the philosophy were either stolen directly from my sister, or developed in the context of her own reflections about her dating experiences. And now she's happily married with a really cool dog, so it can't be all bad, right?
So what was the formula? Well before I get into that let me talk a little bit about the philosophy behind the formula. My general sense when I first started using the formula was that dating, as most of us practiced it, was a bad thing. Bad in the sense that that most of my friends and I just sort of stumbled into dating with the vague notion that it felt good and everyone else was doing it.
I did have the good sense, even at that tender age, to realize that not dating was sort of a bad idea as well. Josh Harris never convinced me that "kissing dating goodbye" was something to which I should aspire. The transition from being single to a lifetime of marriage, no matter how much some Christians (*cough Boundless webzine cough*) like to talk about "courtship," seems like it should have at least a few intermediary steps. And some of those steps should include dinner and a movie with someone you aren't committed to sharing a bed with for the rest of your earthly days.
So my formula for dating was born from a sense that dating is a great thing when practiced with extreme restraint. And the formula helped me to figure out when I should enter into the wonderful mystery that is a relationship, and when it'd be best if I just stayed clear of it and, sigh, her, altogether.
Here's the formula: If I began to like a woman, that is to say, favored her above any of the other women in my acquaintance, the first step I would take was to hurry up and wait. Doing nothing was a key strategy in my dating formula. Why nothing? Well, nothing gives you a lot of time for the deer-in-the-headlights attraction to go away and a little bit of clear thinking to return to the situation. That incredibly smart/attractive/fun girl in my Women's Studies class? Also a devout atheist. Hmmm, guess it's a good thing I didn't ask her to dinner. To be quite honest, doing nothing is what I have done for most of my life. I have spent years doing nothing with one girl or another. I'm great at doing nothing.
And that's basically the way that the formula works. It's nothing if not simple. If you notice yourself liking a girl, the most important thing that you can possibly do is to say nothing to her and never do anything about it. Nothing is the backbone of the whole system.
Ok, you got me. The one problem with my formula is that if you always do nothing then there's a pretty good chance that you will never date anyone. Ever. That's not a formula, that's a religious order. It's a fair criticism. This is where the exception clause comes in. You always do nothing until someone comes along who is so compelling that you absolutely must must make an exception for them. So you break the cardinal commandment of doing nothing and you actually say something to her. You might even ask her name. Kidding.
At this stage in life there are always good reasons why, at any given time, I probably shouldn't be dating. And there are always pretty compelling reasons why I shouldn't be dating most of the women that I might be interested in. But sometimes you meet someone so great that none of that matters. So dating, in my opinion, should be reserved for the times when that woman is so incredible that not getting into a relationship with her would be a folly of the highest order.
And this is where I can start to get myself into trouble. The thing is, I know A LOT of incredible women. A multitude. A plethora. A surplus even. I know more awesome women than I can be friends with, let alone date. But clearly I am not trying very hard given that I am currently seeing none of them. Which is an observation that actually takes us into a different philosophy I have on relationships. The "table" philosophy, as I like to call it.
The four legs of any successful relationship (hence the table) are spiritual, intellectual, relational, and physical. I think that's pretty self-explanatory. For a relationship to work, two people need to be compatible in those four ways. And as most of us know, that isn't exactly easy to achieve. So the question is not "Is this girl amazing?" but rather "Is this girl amazing for me?" Because of this the question "Are you dating anyone right now?" always struck me as mostly harmless, but the ensuing "Would you like to be?" always rubbed me the wrong way. Dating, I have always believed, is something that you embark upon not because you would like to at any given time, but because you encounter someone so incredible that you have no other choice but to share at least some part of your life with them.
And so that's where I'm at. I've stopped using the formula, but I'm still using the philosophy. I still look at dating with quite a bit of hesitancy, and at marriage with a sense that "I really want this- at some point in the future." And I still weigh my interest in women (one woman at a time, naturally) against whether or not dating one of them is the only sensible thing I could possibly do. Not very romantic, I know. But I hope that it's fair to me and fair to potential partners, and I pray that it's faithful. And one day in the future I believe that it will lead me to someone to hike with, watch BOTH versions of "Pride and Prejudice" with, to argue with, and to play with. Most importantly, I pray that it will bring me into the steady presence of someone who will travel with me on a path that will bring both of us closer to the people that God would have us be.
That is just about as close to living happily ever after as I would care to have it.
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