Friday, October 28, 2005

odds 'n ends

if i could paint,
i would paint
childhood
in a room with no walls
and give it wings to
fly from pain

took inventory at Kidtelligence today. my favorite products:
pliable black family - just like gumby, except politically incorrect. bend them any way you like, they do whatever you want them to. just like slaves. i mean, that is to say, they're your property. i mean... ah, crap.
what would jesus do? the game - examine a bunch of life situations and decide what would be the best, most morally responsible way to approach the problem. unless your name is rod or todd, probably not as much fun as it sounds. and that's saying something.

for those of you who like stuff like the badger song (http://www.badgerbadgerbadger.com/) or bananaphone (funnier to the badger video... http://www.albinoblacksheep.com/flash/badgerphone.php) i am pleased to present an annoying song that makes learning intolerable... i mean, fun. http://keithschofield.com/pi/std.html

what else...
a scary moment the other day, as i realized how controlled and tensed i must be most of the time... a simple thing, just a haircut. but there, at the basin, enjoying the somewhat pampering western indulgence of having someone wash my hair, i relaxed. and suddenly i was crying. without the facade, without the need to impress people, without the need to have others like me, to not feel burdened with my company, to show that i'm strong, that i'm capable, to prove all those people wrong who think i'm selfish and self-indulgent, without all that, i just fall apart, because that's where i'm at. not because that's where i want to be, but simply because that's where i find myself when i dare look for such a fragile thing.
i'm not sure what to do with this palpable lack of strength; all i know is that it impedes me from making any kind of progress in this world. i would dearly love to have the ambition and heart to try for myself, to make my life work for me on my own terms... but even that would be labelled selfish. there is no victory for those of us for whom pretense is a necessary coping tool.

ah well. off to pay rent. until next time.

Wednesday, October 26, 2005

nonsense and badges

was thinking this morning, in the way one tends to think when one has been awake for less time than necessary to allow actual thought to take place, that life should be a little more like scouts.
think about it... everyone would sell delicious cookies... people would do good deeds on occasion... and, most importantly, we'd all get really cool badges to sew onto our clothes for doing things that we probably would have done anyway. we could even collect badges for things we do wrong, for ways in which we arn't particularly functional, and thereby redeem ourselves, if only marginally, with some sense of achievement.
badges i want:
the "set my alarm for pm and missed my appointment" badge.
the "parallel parking in the university parking district" badge.
the "pep-and-ched was my lunch today" badge.
the "cookies were my lunch yesterday" badge.

i'm sure i could go on forever... but then, i'd miss more appointments. and the constant cycle of getting badges and talking about them would wear me to exhaustion.

so instead, i present a few portions of text from the minacs.com website, under "career opportunities".

At Minacs, work is about using your mind and energy to make things happen.

our lean, nimble structure is a competitive advantage for Minacs and self-starters like you.

our work teams are formed around specific clients, projects, and or skill sets.

i think the first one is my favorite... other than sleep, or maybe watching tv, i can't think of, well, anything that isn't about using your mind and energy to make things happen. it's like saying "at minacs, work is about doing stuff". brilliant. i love empty jargon and rhetoric. explains a lot about why i have a blog i can't give up despite the almost non-existant fan base, eh? but at least it's a lean and nimble structure. working on getting it to do cartwheels, but no success yet.

sorry, what? ive just been awarded the "pointless contribution to a small cross-section of humanity" badge? sweet. and i thought i wouldn't accomplish anything today.

Monday, October 24, 2005

on being unavailable...

occupied - like a bathroom stall or a fragment of enemy territory. the feeling something bad could happen at any second.
busy - like a tie you can't look directly at, or a signal you get whenever you desperately need to talk to someone. the urge to throw something.
engaged - like waiting to be married, or the starship enterprise in motion, or anything else requiring gratuitous special effects.
committed - like being married, or being sent to the mental institution, or anything else involving being actively crazy.
tied up - like being married... or being sent to the mental institution... wait...

on an unrelated note...
thanks to jordan for giving me something to think about. now if only i could think.
i'll try to return the favor some day.

Sunday, October 23, 2005

the lost coin?

i remember when i was a kid... i went to an evening service at the church of a friend of mine, and, lulled by the words of a preacher whose charisma and faith were compelling enough to dispel my enormous doubts about myself, i stayed at the end to talk with someone.
i waited... some religious authority or another walked up to me eventually... and he asked the question they all ask.
are you saved?
i used to think i was, i replied, but now i'm not sure anymore.
so he gave me an analogy... he took a penny and put it in my hand. then, with my hand still sitting open, he plucked it out. then he gave it back to me and told me to close my fist around it. it was pretty much impossible, then, for him to remove the coin.
that's what it's like when you ask jesus into your heart, he told me. it's like that coin, it can't be taken away from you.
and i walked away feeling like i was, somehow, on some plane that i could seldom see, still saved.
it never occurred to me, then, that all you have to do is open your hand again, tip it a little, and the coin falls right out... rolls... falls under a heavy couch, or into a sewer grate, or one of a million other places that can't properly be reached without some gruelling effort. and if someone finds it before you, does that make it theirs?

i think my salvation is under the couch.
i've hidden so much ugly stuff under there, however, that i'm desperately afraid to look anymore. i can't even bear to think, some days, what horrible offense, what gruesome deviation might be lying pressed up against that once shiny copper disk. it breaks my heart.

here's the thing. truth doesn't change.
(this will make sense in a second.)
at first glance, this reality seems to exist in a paradoxical state with the story i have just told. but it doesn't.
because at little as the actual truth changes, perception of truth varies dramatically.
so the question, then, is this:

how reliant is the truth of salvation upon perception?
after all, from a strictly theoretical standpoint, christ died on the cross for the sins of the entire world. so everyone is sinless, as far as the truth goes. but many people, i imagine (thought i have no specific knowledge or experience potent enough to back this up) go to hell. have they not been set free? of course they have. they just haven't accepted it.

how does that work, exactly? after all, a man can believe that the world is flat, but if he chooses to sail from one end to the other, he will still never fall off the edge. and if we choose to live in a world without the knowledge of grace, despite it's existence, why are we so condemned for our faulty thinking?

i have prayed the prayer many times. i have even, on occasion, really felt it might have been heard. so, is the coin still in my hand? is God something that literal, that concrete? have i signed a contract that, even if i fail to fulfill, he can't break? what is the truth? am i saved no matter what i might think about it? because that would be comforting, and it's not like there isn't an abundance of spiritual leaders preaching that very message of irrevocable salvation to the doubtful and insecure. but at the same time, i can't help thinking about a verse i read once about someone being saved and then falling back into the world, and his state being worse the second time around for his lack of faith and conviction.

and that scares me.
i suppose i should take some measure of comfort in that fear, since i am still capable of feeling it, and therefore am not totally indifferent, not totally dead. but a man may be afraid of the dark regardless of his feelings regarding light, and if, in carelessness, he breaks his flashlight, he will, even if he hates flashlights altogether, lament the loss for it's abandoning him once more to his greatest fear.

i have broken so many flashlights. and sometimes, i'm not even so scared of the dark, as long as it makes it's promise to hide me from the things i don't want to see. mostly, i'm afraid of myself. what i think. the fear. the lack of fear.

perception of reality. i wish, just once, it didn't come down to that. that the truth, whole and undeniable, would simply manifest itself in such a way that denial would be impossible.

i bet peter made that same wish.


2 Peter 2:20-21 For if after they have escaped the pollutions of the world through the knowledge of the Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, they are again entangled therein, and overcome, the latter end is worse with them than the beginning.
for it had been better for them not to have known the way of righteousness than, after they have known it, to turn from the holy commandment delivered unto them.

Thursday, October 20, 2005

feeling dissociative?

every once in a while, i pick up a random, unrecognizable cd from the library, on the basis only of how interesting it seems to me at the time.
generally, the results are underwhelming. independent music is, by and large, either extraordinary or bland, but seldom anything in between.
yesterday's curio du jour was the dissociatives.
and, while the music is, itself, lacklustre, the lyrics are compelling enough that i felt i should share a little here. this passage in particular, while seeming nonsense, resonates with me for some reason i don't quite understand, and i hope it doesn't mean i'm simply crazy.

welcome to planet pod,
where insects sound like lasers
and men who wear abrasive hats,
with eyeballs judge like juries,
and skin that flakes like ancient paint,
suffocate contentment
birds creep over tin roofs
like criminals with tap shoes

stain the glass with windows,
extortionate and cold stare,
we're much preferred customers,
and honestly i don't care

you'll get a chance, another chance, one more sun

drape the concrete curtains, over empty spaces
age is just a number drawn on empty faces.

i don't know, i think it's the bit about the birds like criminals with tap shoes... such interesting imagery... but underneath, i get a glimpse, for a second, of a feeling that has no words, and recognizing it as one i share, feel, for a few seconds, like i might still belong, at least in part, to this fragile world.

thanks, dissociatives.

Thursday, October 13, 2005

christmas is the new thanksgiving...

when your only thought is to stop the next breath in your throat before it slips out and gives birth to time, it's hard to remember that that breath is a miracle; that that time is a gift from God.
and sometimes, it's because the gifts from God don't look anything like what we wanted, nothing like the things for which we asked.

because we're 6, and all we keep asking for is a chainsaw. that would be the coolest thing in our tiny little world, it would be awesome, impressive, cool. we'd be the envy of all our other crazy rugrat friends, who are all busy asking for rocket launchers and hand grenades and other things that are impossible. but not us... we're smart... scale it back a little, don't get too crazy... it's just a chainsaw, after all.
and we have no idea, no concept of how dangerous something like that would be in our hands, how reckless anyone in the world would have to be to give us what we think we want.

so christmas rolls around, and we open the box, and (surprise!) it's... it's...
it's...

a sweater. and some socks.

and here's the next, and often overlooked in this typical analogy, truth about our nature as we relate to the things God tries to give us.

instead of changing our mind, realizing that this is actually much better for us, and accepting the gift with good grace, what happens is this: our desire for the thing we wanted in the first place quadruples. suddenly we go from kinda wanting a chainsaw to imagining ourselves holding it right then, sawing up that stupid sweater and those equally stupid socks, turning them into a flurry of stuffing as we grin maniacally and everyone else backs away in awe and fear. the good gift has actually enhanced our desire for the bad. it's been multiplied by the "injustice" of disappointment, by the shock of realizing that we're not in control, by the pain, unrealistic though it might be, of our parents simply "not loving us enough" to give us what we want.

but you know what the real tragedy is?
we'll wake up tomorrow like every other morning. we'll put on the new sweater and the new socks, because it's december, and it's cold out there. and we'll be warm and comfortable, and we won't even question it. these are just things that were always ours, and there is not even a hint of gratitude for this outfit that, until yesterday, didn't even exist in our world. the gift is swallowed whole by expectation, and it's only when that expectation isn't met that we even notice a change.

anyway, the point i'm trying to make is this. i hate this damned sweater. it itches, i sneeze all the time when i wear it, the colors are so absurd that i've been beaten up twice already for wearing it. sure, i'm warm. and i'd probably die without it's physical comfort. but all in all, i wish, some days, that God would be a little more fashionable and a little more willing to meet earth halfway, no matter what damage it might do.

i'd lose a toe to frostbite any day for the privelege of wearing something that will make me, just once, fit in.

so, what are you thankful for this year?

chainsaws and pillowstuffing?