loyalton, meet google

For all my friends out there who wish that they could visit the streets of Loyalton, but find the drive up over Donner Summit a little too daunting or lengthy, I give you Google Street View (and the wonderful Golden West Restaurant Hotel). So far I've found two glitches when traveling down main street (Hwy 49.) This one's for you mom and dad.

of stories and being myself

Here's a short post about a lecture that I went to that Donald Miller gave (author of Blue Like Jazz). He talked about story and real meaning comes from it and how we need to be able to tell a better story, or maybe be better story-tellers, even dare to live better stories so that others and ourselves will be able to find meaning in truth and have our moral compasses affected.

Apparently he was convincing because I want to tell better stories and I want to live a better story. I want to be the better character who has the better thing that he wants that he can only get by overcoming painful conflict in order to get. But at what cost do I want this?

Today we did "outreach" on the campus. We set up tents and have boards that people can put stickers on and write notes and messages. We hope for conversations, we hope for conversions, we hope for meaning. But secretly I hope for success and from that scale or definition disappointment is all I'll find. No, I do want meaningful conversation, but secretly I'm pessimistic about the whole thing mostly because I'm so arrogant and in the end I figure I'll just settle for success but we know where that gets me.

I struggle so much with understanding the difference between me changing my perspective about things and my going through things which change my perspective. I'm hopeful, almost excited that this week can, if I let it, be a thing through which my perspective changes.

Also, in full nerd fashion I've reserved all the books Donald Miller mentioned during his lecture in my library queue.

the good Lord giveth and the good Lord taketh away

I want to begin this tale with a series of images. I'd love to think of myself as a great writer, a poet of sorts, but I realize that I have one major character flaw that prohibits my talent; that is, laziness. Mix in a little perfectionism and you have a tasty recipe for procrastination. It goes something like this: I don't really have (won't make) the time to do this the way I want (perfectly, that is, in my opinion) so I'll just come back to it when I do (never).

I've wanted to tell this sad little story for some time now, but I was waiting on some last details and some pictures. So here you go, laugh, smile, gasp, cry. Shoot, maybe I'll write a little after all...

Once upon a time there was a small little apple. Now our hero wanted this apple very bad. But our hero was also a patient person and knew that, like all good things, waiting made the moment of receiving even sweeter. So he waited, and waited, and waited. He waited until January when it was known that the apple would be most ripe. However, January came and went, and although there were many other apple-like things blossoming, the little apple remained elusive. Then came February and our hero was certain that the apple would be ready, yet after each Tuesday there was no announcement. Until the last Tuesday of February. Then it happened! The little apple was finally ready. It was polished, completely ripe, and supported a multi-touch track pad. Our hero contacted the huge orchard where the little apple was grown and requested it be sent at once to him. The little apple traveled for many days, all the way from Shanghai CN, which probably stands for Connecticut. Finally, the little apple arrived:







For many days our hero looked upon the apple with such affection and care. He always made sure to put the keyboard protector back in place before letting the little guy sleep. He was also sure to keep from letting his affections grow to an unhealthy level, and therefore was diligent to only spend moderate amounts of time with his new friend. He didn't take it to school with him or show it off to others, except for one night when it just made sense to use it for a slide show at a leadership meeting, and our hero did get many complements. But overall, there grew no inappropriate attachments, no fits of prideful possession, nor arrogance towards those less fortunate without their own marvelous fruit.

Then, two days later, tragedy struck. Not just any run-of-the-mill tragedy, no, no, we're talking totally freakin' unbelievable, come on you can't be serious tragedy.



Wait for it.




Now, whilst our hero lay reclining and reading in his chamber he heard from the dining hall a monstrous sound, one that might be described as a microwave being pushed from it's rightful place atop the refrigerator to it's entirely wrongful place upon the floor. But alas, our hero's microwave does not reside atop the refrigerator so what beast doth such a sound make? Rising courageously from his reading position and rushing headlong into the unknown danger that lurked mere paces ahead our hero came upon a most ghastly sight, one that once seen, will render the seer aghast. He saw....

**Warning: Images of Brutality and Violence Below**










What the???? Impossible....The mighty Lord of Heaven had sent his angel of death to forever darken the vision of the apple.

Let's see that a little closer:


And now the screen...


Forever blind. Forever without sight. Forever blank to the world around it and to it's hero. Oh the humanity, oh the machine!! Oh the titanium case (not bad).

The apple, although completely sightless, because of it's superior materials, hath withstood the force of such a vile attack and remaineth semi-entirely operational. It's entire contents kept safe by it's skin of shininess.

And here the curtains must close on our beloved fruit deprived hero. Although the apple lives on inside it's skin, without it's vision it is irreversibly damaged and therefore, in the process (I'll keep you updated) of being replaced by the wonderful insurance agency of the landlord's at the brick building of 19th and B.

The small little apple is survived by a still mournful Canon Prixma, Kingston 4GB flash drive, and a Bamboo Graphics Tablet. Although both narrowly escaped what would have for sure have been, uh, certain death, the scars of loss and trauma will remain.

As for our hero, he too will survive, and perhaps some new apple will catch his eye.

Rest in peace Fierce Granny Apple (March 10th, 2008 10:17am - March 22nd, 2008 3:02pm), may your new IP in the great network upstairs be filled with bandwidth and free of firewalls.

yeah...and sometimes 'Y'

And the winner of my favorite new t-shirt goes to this one which my wonderful wife graciously gave me for my birthday. I've decided that I like random shirts, so much in fact, that I wanted one for myself. What would be amazing is if I had some cool incentive for all my friends to get me random t-shirts (size Large) and I took pictures of myself wearing them in super spots around Bakersfield. Just an idea...

ode to the beard of my face

So I've titled this "As good as it got / As bad as it got - Decision 08 - The Beautiful but often Sorrowful Beard Story"

Sabbath Reflections

Here's my reflections from this months mandatory Surf and Turf Division InterVaristy Sabbath.  (It takes half the day just to say that.)

1.What did you do for your time?

I started the morning by listening to some Derek Webb in the car and then went to the gym to play some racquetball. Then I ate lunch and went for a bike ride. I went to the library and read a few chapters of the book Authority to Heal. While I was there I wrote in my journal and then I wrote a song. I then rode my bike around downtown and stopped at a bakery. Mmmm. Then I came home and worked on chords and a melody for the lyrics I had written. Next, I went through the journal questions in the retreat guide. I'm also hoping to watch some Lost later this evening.

2.How were you challenged by God?

I feel challenged by God to look for him working. I got a text message from one of the student leaders who led their very first bible study today and she said she loved doing it. I think God has plenty that he is prepared to show me but I just don't look. I do not expect him to do very much. I don't know if it's more because of my disbelief or my fear of being disappointed. Either way, God is challenging me to look more and to hope for His power to be displayed in real ways and not to settle for only the non-miraculous.

3.How were you encouraged by God?

I am encouraged when I am able to do something creative. I always get the sense that God has moved, stepped in, or spoken when I am able to finish something creative and be content with what I have made. The finishing of the song was an encouragement. Whenever I can put into words the passion of my feelings, whether positive or frustrating, I feel blessed. There is something about the creative process that is always stifled by my perfectionism, and when completion comes it must be an act of divine intervention.

4.Any questions for your supervisor?

I'd like to look into going to the Pastoral Care Ministry School in Wheaton, IL, June 15-20, 2008. I think some other people in our division might be interested in going as well. I have no idea what the cost / travel / anything is. The website is archaic at best. I'll keep checking it out.

my beard

One of the perks of being a guy: I can grow facial hair and still be accepted in society (most of it.)

I think this picture is a little narsisisss...narscissist....narsi...nars...uh...narcissistic. Yeah ninjawords.

just for the heck of it.

I just wanted to be able to be a part of the "risers" the next time I'm at a conference and they say, "Stand up if you have ever blogged during a staff meeting." Sorry about that Rob.

kicked my butt

I just went down hard, 1-6. My brother in law took me to school this morning at 6:30. It was racquetball lessons for about 2 hours. I kept thinking that if I could get him to keep playing I might tire him out. I was wrong. How humbling, I flew 6 hours across the country and I get walloped. Even my special shoes didn't help me. I've been wanting some new Sambas and kinda eyeing the millennium edition and found some at a thrift store for 12 bucks! My size even. Kinda excited about that.

That's all, I'll post again when I've found my dignity.

on an art rant

I just watched Garden State with the director's commentary, Zach Braff along with Natalie Portman. This probably qualifies me some "geek" or "nerd" title, which I'll accept gracefully. I love knowing why. You understand right? It's not all the little trivia facts (like that Natalie Portman had never played a vinyl record before the movie and had to be shown how to "put one on" for a scene) but it's the why that I enjoy. I love to listen to people talk about why they did something, granted they have something to significant to say. Of course, there's a little bit, okay a lot, of this being about validating my own desire to explain myself. I love to explain myself. (Which of course leads to meeting the need of wanting to be known.) So movies, good ones like Garden State, fascinate me because they say so much about us, about people, about relationships, without saying it directly, or at least without loosing the feeling, or the essence. I've been thinking about this a lot lately. About art.

Here's what I have so far.

I'll use the movie Crash as an example. The movie is all about the complexity of racism and racial brokenness. The film conveys the truth about racism is a much more accurate way, I think, that a seminar on racism would. Because the movie is art and not just facts, it contains both truth and the essence of what that truth looks like or would feel like if experienced. Someone I know who just watched the film said they thought it was good but that it was unbelievable because of the connections between the characters, the way each characters story overlapped with the others was too coincidental to be realistic. But I think the movie isn't supposed to be realistic, it's supposed to be truthful. You can't make something that is only two hours long convey the truth and complexity of actually reality. In order to look at reality in it's entirely, something has to be fake, unrealistic, pretend, in order to convey not the same reality, but the same truth. This a mystery of Art. Art takes something that is unrealistic to convey the truth about the realistic. Of course realistic things are involved in the process, but facts have to be bent and broken in order to convey the meaning or essence, truth.

Something like that. Still processing.

Here's a cool tangent. It's portraits of people, many over 100 years old. Facinating to think about their lives.

chaos vs. whatever is it that other people do

I am not a planner. Let me rephrase that: I make plans, but I never actually expect then to happen. I don't mean the whole, never have expectations so that you never get disappointed, which is actually never admit that you have expectations and then when those don't get met, pretend like your not disappointed, stuff it down deep inside you and wait until it finally bursts out and either ruins a relationship or remains inside but turns you into a bitter monster.

No, I have plans, I have expectations, but I'm just used to them getting changed. Let's stay on the surface here. I'm talking about plans like you and me and Jeremy will meet at 2:00 and then go do this and then this which fits perfectly into the allotted time that we have before the babysitting is up. But then, inevitably, You, Me, and Jeremy becomes You, Me, Jeremy, Peter and Steve. And 2:00 becomes 2:30 and maybe even a little later. And if we're lucky, we still get to go play nine wholes instead of 18.

This I am used to. I admit, I even am often the instigator of such "transformations" to the plan. Let me just say for the record, I realize that this totally irritates those who are much better at keeping to the plan. I'm sorry. I apologize. I'm working on it, but part of me, deep down, has already accepted the fact that this will probably never change about me. It's something that I think is good in some cases, and not so good in others.

Now, let's try to par today huh?

at what point does this become fake

Every Sunday I think about this, which probably speaks more about my own spirituality and self discipline than anything else, why don't they just give in and buy a sign? I know the intentions are good and this totally works for people. Shoot, it works for me, when I am feeling totally reverent to somebody or something, I guess I stand. But here's the confusion: The only other time that I can think of in this culture when we stand is at concerts or at the end of performances or a show. I know that many of the people in church are from a different generation than myself and have it built in that standing up is a sign of respect. So, if me standing up at church during worship is only to stand in unification with those worshippers who stand, I'm all for it, and for all I know, that should be as far as I think about it, now accept it and move on.

But there seems to be something more, at least I like to make something more out of it. Somewhere, deep down, I feel manipulated. Is it just my ego saying, "Hey, I'm an individual. I make my own choices, I'm not feeling the spirit enough to raise my hands right now, so I'm not going to"? Is it my fear saying, "If you don't stand you are less spiritual, and everybody else is taking notes right now and you will forever be known as the rebellious punk who thinks he's too good to stand up, we should pray for him." Or, this one's my favorite, because it requires no conviction or repentance on my part, it's my amazing discernment saying, "This is not authentic worship. Not everybody worships this way. It's forcing people to only express themselves through this culture's traditions and instead of creating members of the body, it's creating conformists who have the inability to truly experience communion with the Father."

This isn't fooling anybody that may walk in off the streets, which they probably wouldn't because they'd have to get through the maze of new construction, welcome tents, and registration cards where they will be made to feel like everybody is so nice to me but I bet it will only last as long as this forced five minute conversation and then I'll just learn to act like I know where I'm going and then nobody will ever say hello to me accept when they are forced to by the infamous 'greet your neighbor' command when again nobody really even knows my name or offers there's after which I feel awkward because when is it socially acceptable in this new group to sit down and can I really even meet somebody anyway in thirty seconds and no I won't raise my hand because I'm new so you can give my your program that's supposed to replace meeting a real person and why is everybody standing now did I miss the sign?? where's the sign?? oh there it is, hey that's helpful.

new things

I don't like the fact that I am obsessed with new things. Blame it on our consumer culture or my "that's mine" pride, but it's ridiculous. I can hide the more blatant appearances of the "gotta have it" ego because I simply can't afford it, which makes me feel the ever popular false humility. However, it's always the small stuff that sneaks through my look-like-a-christian filter. This week it's the shampoo and body-wash. I'm one of those people who has never settled on a particular brand, or if I do I'm always checking out the new releases. I've got the old spice deodorant but that Axe looks so cool and have you seen the commercials? Shameless, entirely shameless. I'd never give into such low, women degrading, marketing, but...well I wouldn't buy it because of the commercials, just the price, sure...

But I digress, this is how it works:

For the first time in a long while I actually remembered to get some new body wash and shampoo before I was completely out. I bring it home, but it in the shower, and now it takes every ounce of will power to keep using the old stuff until it's gone. Why is that? Nobody will even know that I'm using the new stuff, but darn it, I want to use it so bad. What's going on here? It's wasteful to use the new stuff, it's not logical, it's soooo tempting though. I don't even know what the temptation is? So of course, I'm using the old shampoo and body wash, and feeling really smug about it, but I'm using it more liberally than ever before. It takes more shampoo now that I just shaved my head, wait that's stupid.

My nature is lame.

Depth

Here I am at the Grand Canyon sporting a very attractive "shirt rag" to keep the heat off. It's all about depth here at the GC (that's what all the hip chaps call it, or so I uh...made up). I love the effect looking into a big whole has on the mind. I think it's most staggering because I rarely ever have so much space defined for me. I see freaking huge buildings and am totally impressed. I've seen the zoom-out at the end of Indiana Jones - Raiders of the Lost Ark when they show the massive warehouse, and been shocked by the enormity of the space. I've looked out of an airplane window and seen hundreds of miles stretching out into a slight curve. But, only at the Grand Canyon am I still freaked out by the sheer amount of space. I had to continually look at it just to make sure of what I'm not quite sure. I don't think my mind could comprehend how much space I was trying to grasp. How many pennies? How much water? How many McDonald's PlayPen balls? How long would it take to fill it with trash? To find the answer to the last one go here. I want to go back and hike down to the bottom, we didn't get to do that this time. It's funny how many signs there are telling you not to try to hike down and back in the same day. My favorite was a poster that asked you if you could run a marathon, and then went into detail about the fate of a woman who could yet died trying to make the round trip. But come on, I've hiked, like, at least once this year, and only had to stop once going up Bishop's Peak, I'm sure I could make it.

find me inspiration

For this post I decided I would try to find some image and then hopefully inspiration would lead me to write some fantastic blog. I think I'm totally misunderstanding the whole point of a blog right now. Ah...screw it.

This is something that I want to be a part of. Ever since I started architecture school I hoped there would be some niche for me. I never felt like I fit in completely with all the other design students. My dad doesn't run his own firm, I've never worked a day in an office, I actually make fun of corporate people. (Except when I'm around my friends who work at big corporate places, but that's another post.) I love to design. Period.

My biggest struggle throughout school was trying to convince myself that architecture isn't just a luxury. It has practical applications for the average person. I want to believe there is power is creating great space. I want to believe that architecture can help transform things. Life is better when there is design. Somewhere along the bridge between art and architecture there is a path that people can walk that inspires change, provides perspective, and allows for a spark that could lead to transformation, even redemption. I've read a book about how the built environment effects the soul. It was convincing and a little "out there." These people see architecture how I want to. So do these.

introspectator

Sometimes I feel so self-conscious it's ridiculous. My friend sent me this cartoon that I thought was really clever-crazy-creative. But I just now realized how much I feel like the person in the cartoon. I'm always stepping back in perspective to see what's going on. After I do something, I step back and look at it. It's like being a soccer player scoring a goal, then stepping back to the person who made the assist, then stepping back to the crowd, the mom, the coach, then stepping back to outside the sports complext and wondering about the people watching, then stepping back to the city, and so on. Eventually you get to great questions about humanity and existance, which for a while make me feel really good because I'm pondering great things. But eventually I desire to kick the ball again and I'm not sure if I can get back there, or if anybody even knows what I'm talking about after all that. Then I fear that maybe the reason I even step out of the game is because I'm afraid, and then I step back to the crowd wondering why is that guy afraid, then I step back to humanity and get lost again. I'm a spiral. Here's the cartoon.

church smurch

Another disappointing Sunday. I find that again I spent the day distancing myself from the "christian culture image." In addition to not wearing faith proclaiming shirts or plastering my car with clever bumper stickers, license plate covers, fish, etc, I sit in a Sunday service and I act like an outsider. This Sunday is another compelling argument to what? To try harder. All we Christians seem to say is that we need to be better at... we need to think more... we need to act more like... we need to actually believe more... we need to be more... But the question I don't ever seem to feel like is answered very well is how. How? I feel like I just sat through a mental bashing that attempts to compel me to be more psychologically conditioned to respond a specific way in an particular situation. That doesn't sound very liberating. No wonder the church is avoided by those who are struggling with anything. They already know they are incapable of psychologically conditioning themselves to do anything. How about the suffering, the addicted, the hopeless, the helpless, the homeless. Our message of trying harder is only a slap in the face. Maybe we throw out a "Jesus is the answer" and it's "by His power we can accomplish all things." But that's the extent of the message. Where's the how? Until the How gets manifested through a loving community that loves first and asks questions later I don't see how anybody would believe that Jesus is worth anything more than a catchy slogan that both isolates and patronizes. And lets not forget the multitude of true believers who instead of being encouraged and blessed, they get a western-ized slap in the butt that disappointingly concedes "try harder next time." Let's teach people to fish, not just tell them they're supposed to be good fisherman.

hollow man

It's that feeling when you've stayed up super late and haven't moved for the last three hours. The invention of the computer is weird in that you can do so much without moving anything but your fingers. My mind is telling me that I have just accomplished an amazing task and written someting possibly worthy of being published, yet my body says, "What...uh... you're still awake? Dude, I shut down ages ago. You want me to do what now!!? (do the question marks or exclamations usually go first?? anyone?)"

So here I sit. I'll convince my body to move and go to bed, after I convince it it's not already there.

I'll continue my search for meaning and purpose tomorrow. Now I must sleep.

Feeling Down

I have a complaint to make. It's not acceptable to be sad. Since when is it that? It's like we believe if somebody is sad it's because something is wrong. If something is wrong, it's because there is a problem. If there is a problem, we can and must do everything to fix it. If somebody is sad for longer than, I guess a second, it's because somebody isn't fixing something. Not being able to fix something is wrong. We're American's darn it. We sent people to the moon. We invented light bulbs. We invented penicillin. We can fix anything. Why are you sad? You are not reinforcing the American Dream if you are sad. You are denying our super power to fix everything. STOP BEING SAD!! You're making me uncomfortable. If you were a good person you wouldn't be sad. If you were smarter, you wouldn't be sad. If you just had more faith, you wouldn't be sad.

Maybe if we didn't have a society where the only people who at least pretend to listen charge over $120 an hour, less people would be sad, or at least if they were sad they would feel okay to share it with the group and not fear being an outcast.

remembering

Why is it that whenever I'm trying to think of something I can't remember it: a song I really like and would like to purchase now, a book I'd like to read but the second I entered the library it vanished, what I'd like to get for Christmas or my birthday, which actually is today (although its 1am on what still feels like the 28th), and other things, like how to end a sentence with an actual strong point.