Wednesday, June 28, 2006

Dallas vs. Dallas

Now that I've been working full-time two summers in a row, I don't even notice how hot it is in Texas during the summer. When I was a kid my parents worked all summer and I spent a grand amount of time outside, burning my feet on the concrete and even going on runs in the heat of the day. On Monday, I brought a fleece-jacket with me to work, because the air conditioning was too cold. Needless to say It's been quite an adjustment.

For the last couple of days I've been clicking F12 and going into my widgets to translate a blog I read from Spanish to English and I've noticed subconsciously that the weather report widget that I have has been forecasting temperatures that I could only dream of. It has looked like this:Even with my AC finally fixed in my car so that I barely notice the temperature from my climate controled apartment, to my climate controlled car, to my climate controlled office and back again; I started to wonder why it would say that. Every time I looked at it I would think perhaps that I had been time-warped to four months ago, or better yet that I had been daydreaming and the last four months hadn't yet happened. It turns out, I've been awake, and no time-warp either. It turns out that there is a Dallas in Pennsylvania, and for some reason it's a higher priority in the lists of Dallas than Dallas, Texas. Here is what it should look like:
If the earth really is heating up, it is going to stink.

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Saturday, June 24, 2006

So Embarrassed I Have to Come Clean

There's this website, it's called It was the first blog I was ever introduced to and I love it. If you want some good reading. Go to the bottom of the site and sort the posts by either Depression or Mormonism, and read from the bottom to the top.The author's name is Heather, and she is hilarious. Now, here's the situation:

Dear Heather,

I have a fairly unique name, which I am very proud of. One big advantage or disadvantage of having such a unique name is that when someone performs a Google search on my name, it comes right up. I am sure that girls do this after meeting me. You can imagine my horror, the day after I drunkenly decided it was time I posted a comment on your website, after doing a Google search on my name, this was the first thing that came up:Egg-pooping? Did I really say that? And did I really make my user name my full eff-ing name!? Heather, I love your website, I read it almost every day, and I don't mind being associated with it, but please, PLEASE remove this comment from your site. Or, you have my permission to change it to something that will show the ladies that I am sensitive. At 12:12AM and after a couple of beers I lose the ability to be clever, I have learned my lesson. Have mercy on me.

Thank you!


(*names have been blurred to protect the embarrassed*)

Thursday, June 22, 2006

Greed In Three Degrees

This morning I was incredibly fired up to write on the topic of greed, as inspired by the previous night's conversation with two of my best friends, however I was too busy today to write with a clean conscience and that passionate inspiration may well be gone forever. First I will give an update, then I will get back to the subject of having, holding and making a lot of money. Here is the update:

With only 3 weeks left at my job and three unfinished projects on a hard drive that doesn't belong to me, I have gotten very busy, working on both my own projects and on setting up multiple systems for the company which will hopefully run seamlessly in my absence. I'm full of nervous excitment at the prospect of what lies ahead, and of the fact that I will no longer be tied to a full-time employer in just a few weeks. I have somewhat succesfully been fighting the fear of starving and of being unwanted, unapreciated and untalented. And with the unreasoned grin of a drunkard I count down the days until that date.

Now back to the subject of our title...

While sitting with two friends for a late-night dinner at the most fantastic little all-night diner in Dallas (Buzz Brews on 75), we began to have a conversation about our current jobs and our future financial stability. Then we started talking about wealth, real wealth; this is where I left the conversation and became an observer. I don't want to name this phenomenon anything, I don't even want to comment on what happened because in doing so I would be saying that my two friends were and are possessed by greed, as if I am not. Let me just say that it is good that I was too busy to write this morning because what I would have written would have been self-righteous and deserving of pity. Instead I will write this:

If my family owned a natural gas well in Fort Worth on the Barnett Shale that was an eye sore, that was causing massive noise pollution, large-scale and largely unregulated air and land pollution, was a safety hazzard to the homes and families near by, was especially dangerous to the men and women who worked the well, who I paid very little, whose profit was allowing me to plant more and more wells, which were then popping up litteraly in the back yards of home owners all around Fort Worth, thus causing their land to be destroyed and property values to be sucked of all their worth...I wouldn't be losing sleep at all. I'd be buying a yacht, and I'd be excited about it, and comfortable. I'd probably donate a little to a charity though, just in case.

Monday, June 19, 2006

The Occupation of My Mind

Right now I am working on two projects. The first of which is my sister's wedding video which I am editing, on which I have done nothing. The second is a documentary I supposedly shot of my trip to Brazil last month. I can't edit during the day because the only computer that can handle the HD footage is inaccesable to me at that time, and I can't edit at night because by that point I'm too tired. I am completely consumed mentally in these two projects and I can get nothing done until they are complete.

Follow their progress over here at High Resolution Revolution.

Sunday, June 18, 2006

My Other Favorite Cafe

Yeah, ok, so that last post was apologies.

Here are a couple goals I have:

•Win a 5k.
•Find a pair of flat front slacks that fit, 30x34, slightly slim fitting, slightly low rise.
•Buy some black LIN socks with skulls on them.
•Quit my job.
•Live in a house.
•Find a church I like.
•Wake up an hour earlier each day.
•Gain 15 pounds, of muscle.
•Buy a fuel efficient car.
•Go to bed before midnight.
•Finish editing all of my film projects.
•Write my novel.
•Write my screenplay.
•Learn how to bake pastries.

That's my plan for the summer anyway. After that I have some more goals, but we'll just get there when we get there.

Saturday, June 17, 2006

Everything Is About To Change

I have a hard time saying no to anything that has the remote possibility of being fun. This is especially true when it comes to artistic ventures. But today I finally said no; I am over-booked.

I hope you enjoyed the last three short stories (or scenes really) as much as I enjoyed writing them. Those three stories really speak volumes about my deepest desires I think.

In closing, I am making some big decisions next week, wish me the best...ok, ok, that sounds too foreboding, they're really not that big, but seriously, wish me the best.

Prayer of a Lonely Copier

With each stroke of my wrist, the sharp point of my quill transforms this delicate sheet of dry parchment. This vile concoction of black tar, sticky with the smell of melting life, is all that imbeds these letters, these words which themselves are life. Sitting at this wooden slat with candles all around burning away so close to my life's work, I toil endlessly because this is my lot. I hear everyday of the filth, of the dirty sacrilege preached by my brothers and of the perversion of this simple message and it sickens and spurs me on. I will continue to copy these words because they are the key to freedom from this life of destruction and unsatisfied desires. As I write I drift into every state imaginable. The words are both fresh and my greatest enemy. One day they are new and the next they are nothing more than a boulder to push up a never-ending hill. But my heart knows better than to lose my faith in these books, and my heart knows things which my mind can't possibly fathom. Though my back aches and my legs grow stiff and I long for the company of anyone, even though I believe I have lost all ability to relate to my fellow man, I will continue to pen these words until my time is through. It is not for me to know how and when and for what result these pages will be used, but I know that there is a future and a hope in the simple message they repeat through the stories of their authors. I am thankful for this work, I am thankful for this solitary life, and I am thankful that I have been invited to be a participant in the salvation of all those who will one day have the privilege of reading the offspring of these simple manuscripts. So I sit in silence and I copy, I work and I toil, and in these words I find life.

Thursday, June 15, 2006

Dear Son

Dear Son,

The writing of this letter marks the beginning of a short anthology that I have put together for your benefit. As I write you this particular letter I am 23, however what I am saying to you is as relevant now as it was when I penned this letter, and even more so because by now my own view of my life is probably skewed, and even if not, I may not fully be able to remember with poignant accuracy now what I wished to tell you then, which is now. The purpose of these letters is to bestow upon you the wisdom that I have gleaned from the mistakes of my life, the consequences of my actions and the positive rewards I have received from every once in a while stumbling upon the correct behavior in various circumstances. Let me just say this now so that there is no confusion: I do not wish for you to not make your own mistakes. You are going to make mistakes, and you are going to learn from them. But through these letters I hope to instill in you a sense of entitlement and pride in the origins of your mentality. How should I know if your personality will be anything like mine? I do know that every day I become more and more like my own father, and through his good example I have been spared various results, complications and embarrassments for which his advice prepared me. So in this first letter I will give you four pieces of advice, which I received from my father, and while I didn't first understand them I cherish them today. Your body is yours and I have no control over it, but I want what is best for you, and for this reason I will hold you constantly accountable to the following:

Always keep your fingernails and toenails cut and clean. There is no excuse for having uncut or dirty fingernails and toenails. Make it a habit, you will see why. Do not chew gum in public. Chewing gum is a private activity. If you are speaking to someone for any reason, spit your gum out before you speak. Do not get any tattoos or piercings, you will regret them. If you have a drop of the blood that runs through my veins you will regret them, do not get any tattoos or piercings. Finally, always use your blinker, even when there is no one around, always use your blinker. Make it a habit, even if no one else does.

These simple guidelines are yours to uphold when you are not in my presence, when you are in my presence I will demand you to uphold them, I am your father. While these may add effort to your life, the result of these simple acts will weigh more on the side of your happiness than you could ever possible imagine now. Uphold them because I am your father and I love you.

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

Goodnight Little Hannah

Jeff gazed down into her crib. Her tiny chest rose and fell and with alternating breaths she blew gently out of her nose and mouth. He couldn't help but look on in wonder, at her tiny toes and fingers so perfect. It was bizarre he thought, that such a tiny little creature, so perfect and pure in every way, could possibly one day become what he was. He just couldn't imagine her being anything but what she was now. And what she was now was perfect and radiant. From the soft rose hue of her little puffy cheeks to the soft yellow curls of hair that fell delicately around her tiny ears. Jeff had never been so in love with any woman in all his life. Being a father was nothing like what he thought it would be, nothing could have prepared him for this adventure, but then nothing needed to. Now that he was here, standing in front of the baby that he had somehow helped to create, he was filled with joy and pride and fear and utter excitement of a future filled with her smiles. "Goodnight little Hannah," he said quietly as he stepped backwards out of her room and gently shut the door behind himself. He walked into the kitchen and turned the dial on the baby monitor until the hum of white noise buzzed quietly at his fingertips. The island was covered in dough and flower with little bowls of sugar and blueberries. The Betty Crocker cookbook he had asked for Christmas when he was in college lay in the middle of it all turned to the page for scones. Jeff let out an audible chuckle as he realized the silliness of his present situation. He wished he had a blue floral apron to complete the scene. Never in his life did he ever dream of being domestic, or of having a wife who traveled for business. But Jeff couldn't have been happier at the moment, knowing that she'd be home soon, and that eventually they would be able to settle down completely. In this moment Jeff was focused on the hum of that little speaker and on the soft little ball of dough and fruit between his hands. He promised to remember this moment, for the next time he needed assurance that his life had been good.

Tuesday, June 13, 2006

Clean Crisp Air

The sun was setting over the loch, warm at their backs, one of those sunsets that seems to last forever, not harsh on the eyes, but warm and amber and tangible. Jenny was unknowingly squeezing William's hand tighter in hers as she felt the strong thickness in it compared to hers, which were long and slender and soft. They stopped at the railing and looked out over the water which was still and cool and dark. The air was cool and crisp this evening and felt heavy in their lungs, reminding them of it's presence. They both breathed it in deeply, then exhaled in unison. Jenny's hand was unconsciously searching William's palm and it made him feel warm. As his grip slowly and gently tighened around hers, he thought to himself that he'd never appreciated another persons body until this moment. He was holding his breath. Jenny put her other hand on top of his and William exhaled looking into her eyes. "What was that," she asked, amused. "That," he said, "that was, um..." He lost his thoughts in the cutness of her intense, unblinking, stare. "You're really beautiful and I'm really lucky to be here with you." She puckered her lips as if she were trying not to laugh, and continued looking at him intently. "You're right," she said, "you in no way deserve me, but I love you." William agreed with this and kissed her gently on the forehead. The sky had now gone from gold to purple. William looked at her silently and smiled. A perfect moment was only perfect if it was hers as well, and he liked that.

Emily Joins the Ranks

All I have to say is prepare yourself:For EMOSSNATION!

Monday, June 12, 2006

Murder in America

The other night my roomate and I got into a debate after I made the comment that the United States was one of the most immoral countries on the planet. He laughed, and then asked if I was serious. I assured him that I was. Matt Chandler was serious when he said it, and I was stealing the idea from him, so I was confident (Download his FULL sermon here). What I meant by my comment (and once again I'm stealing this from this Matt Chandler guy) is that it is easy to fake righteousness in the U.S. And our culture has become very good at covering up it's own dirty deeds. And also, that in other countries, say Saudi Arabia, where they will cut off your head for publicly acknowleging that you are a Christian...well, maybe in Saudi Arabia friendships are more genuine, perhaps family is more important, maybe people are more honest with each other. I don't know if that is the case, but maybe. My roomate I think thought that I was being an unappreciative, unpatriotic idiot, and I'm not saying that I wasn't, but I'm not going to know until I go to Saudi Arabia and experience the culture for myself. But what I've seen in the U.S., just in my own community worries me, because it doesn't acknowledge that there is a problem. The above screen-grab from the Drudge Report isn't a defense of my opinion, it's just an interesting fact about the year 2005.

Sunday, June 11, 2006

Sleep Deprivation Number One

I haven't slept more than 4 consecutive hours in over three weeks. However, my mental temperament is on an incredible manic upswing. I don't know if that is praise-worthy, or worrisome.

My Best friends got married this weekend. It was the most beautiful wedding I will ever go to. Not just because it was a beautiful space with a beautiful cake or because of all the normal things that make a wedding a hit or miss, but because Ben and Tracy are beautiful people and their unity makes my heart scream "majesty!"

The L.A. Christians are a different breed. It confuses me that geographically believers would be so different, but it makes sense as well. Not because they have been nurtured there, but because they have responded to a call to be there. Daniel Smith, of the Danielson Famile says that we are called to be wherever we are, and that is one of the super-natural aspects of Christianity (you can listen here). That got me thinking, and I think I agree with him.

P.S. If you have some sort of interest in faith expressed in music, namely, "Christian Spirituality," check these out. If you are into the indie stuff, this is about as indie as it gets.

Thursday, June 08, 2006

Frontier Soul

What does the mind of a coal miner living in 1938 West Virginia look like? I don't know, but I think Jamie does. I was asked to take this link down for a while, but with Jamie's permission I'm putting it back up. Is it prose? Is it poetry? Are these songs? Only Jamie knows...These Are Words.

Front Porch, Blue Ceiling, Pre-Industry

When I think of the perfect summer day, I think of the street the kids live on in To Kill a Mockingbird, which is funny because of all the tragic things that happen in that book. But my point is that we should have big front porches on our houses. Even if our houses aren't big. We should know what our neighbors look like, we should wave to them when they walk by, we should drink lemonade on hot Saturday afternoons, and eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. There is a street in Dallas called Swiss Avenue where this world is preserved, a world that I don't even know ever existed. The houses are incredible, with large avenues, long walk ways and drive ways, front porches that wrap around the houses and guest houses in the back. It would be one of the most picturesque neighborhoods in the country if it weren't absolutely surrounded by low income housing, half-way houses, and pedestrians. I wanted to take a few pictures of my favorite front porches on Swiss Avenue but I forgot my camera today, so I've stolen some off a someone's Flickr account.

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

Crack and My Friend John

It's was my birthday last Sunday, the fourth of June. I like to say that birthdays aren't that terribly important to me, at least not my own birthday, but some of my friends were coming over to my apartment at 6:30 to hang out and eat cake and talk, and I couldn't think of any better way to celebrate. I thought about renting a movie, but a movie is quite a commitment and the mix of people was quite diverse. So instead I decided to rent the first season on the British version of the TV show The Office, that way the commitment would be much shorter and I already knew it was a great show, one of the best in fact. As I pulled up to Premiere Video, an amazing video store in central Dallas, I saw an African American male being asked to leave the premises by a security officer. When I stepped out of my car the man ran up to me and began to speak very loud and quick, slurring and stumbling over his words. From what I could gather he was asking me to jump his car. He pointed across the street at a parking lot and told me that he had cables. I knew that he probably didn't have a car, but I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and I offered to meet him over there. He motioned to walk across the street and I unlocked my car. He jumped inside the passenger seat of my car.

I stood there looking at him, he was fidgeting and excited. I looked up at the security guard who with a morbid look on his face rolled his eyes and turned around. I thought for a second about what to do and I opened my door. Without getting in I looked inside at the man and asked him if he just needed a jump. "Yeah man, I just need a jump, my car is right across the street." I got in my car. "Say man," he said, "I've been motherf**king workin' at SMU for 24 years, can you take me over to work so I can tell them that I'm going to be late?" SMU was just on the other side of the highway and I figured that I could just drop the guy off at work and go back to rent the video. He started talking immediately, asking me about the Maverick's game the night before, about SMU football, about where I went to school and what I did for a living. There was a high-school cheerleading camp going on. We passed a group of workers from SMU who were walking on the sidewalk and he yelled out to them. I drove in and parked in front of one of the small buildings and he told me that he would just run in and tell his boss what was up. I was feeling giving so I backed in to another parking spot in the shade so that I wouldn't be staring at the cheerleaders. He ran into the building and was back to my car in no more than 30 seconds. It didn't even look like he actually went in the building. Something serious was up.

He jumped back in my car and told me I had a great personality and that he was going to give me forty dollars for helping him out. I told him that I wouldn't accept it. He started screaming that he made twenty four dollars an hour at SMU and that he could afford it. I told him that I didn't want his money and he screamed louder. He was missing his front teeth and I couldn't understand what he was saying. He was telling me to turn right and that he needed to go to the ATM around the corner. I told him that I thought he needed to get back to his car and he said that he needed money to pay for the tow truck. I had offered to call the tow truck for him before he had got in my car so I knew that there was no tow truck. I drove to the ATM, and parked in front of it. He began to stutter and speak loudly again. He said, "I'll give you fifty dollars, I'll give you forty dollars, you give me forty and I'll give you a hundred that's forty, you give me twenty, you give me three twenties!" He wasn't getting out of the car. He grabbed my arm and said, "you give me three twenties and I'll give you a hundred and you can keep the change you can keep fifty dollars." Even though the change left over would be forty dollars I took the keys out of the ignition and put them in my pocket. The windows were rolled down. My back seat was filled with stuff that I was bringing home from my parents house. My Ipod was sitting in the middle console. I saw a police officer in a Tahoe turn right two blocks in front of me. He was sitting in my car with all my stuff so i quickly pulled sixty dollars out of the ATM. He yelled to me from out of the window, "Hey man, is this yo' family?" "Yeah, that's my mom and dad," I said. There was a large picture from the early eighties of my mom and dad and sister and brother sitting in the back seat. I jumped back in my car and took off back towards Mockingbird station. He grabbed the sixty dollars out of my hand. I didn't care. I told him that my friends were waiting for me back at my apartment. I was supposed to meet them at 6:30 and it was now 6:45. I had taken two calls and missed two just in the amount of time that he was in my car. I just wanted him out. He told me that the tow truck was waiting at the gas station around the corner, but he told me to get on the highway. I wasn't happy about this and I told him. I also began to tell him about a book I was reading that says that in the Bible Jesus tells us to love everyone. I told him that was why I was helping him out, because Jesus said that was the right thing to do. He told me that he went to the Baptist church. He was clapping his hands together. I guess he was happy about having enough money to pay for the tow truck. We drove down four exits, first to the train station then to a gas station where he said the tow truck would be waiting. There was no tow truck in the parking lot. He told me to do a U-turn and park on the other side of the street because the driver was going to give him a discount on a new battery and that he didn't want his boss finding out. Earlier he told me that it wasn't the battery, but that it was his alternator that was bad.

I did a U-turn, and he told me to pull over. He would have to run across six lanes of traffic and I told him that I didn't want him to get hit by a car. He yelled for me to pull over. His eyes were yellow and blood shot and he didn't blink. The veins stuck out on his skinny arms and his hands were dry. He looked desperate. I didn't stop. I continued to roll slowly and he screamed for me to stop and clambered for the door. I sped up just a little bit. "There's one thing I need to tell you," I said. "What, what!?" he said. "Jesus loves you," I said "He is the only son of God, He was God in the flesh of a man. Do you know that?" "Yeah, Jesus man, just let me out, just trust me, let me out!" he said. "Not yet," I said. I was scared and he could hear it in my voice, he looked like he wanted to hit me. "There's a place called heaven and a place called hell. Do you believe that?" "Yeah, yeah," he said, "and I'm going to hell." "Jesus has offered you a free gift to be saved from having to go to hell." "Yeah, a free gift man," he said. "It's a free gift that he offered to you by dying for you." I said. "When He died He covered the price of your sins. Then He raised Himself from the dead, that's how you know that He is the God of love. Because He came back for you." "Man, let me out!" he screamed. "Just trust me, just go to the Chevron and wait for me. Just trust me." "Man, I know what you are doing," I said. "I don't care about the sixty dollars, you can have it. I just want you to know that Jesus loves you and that He died for you. When you believe that He is the only son of God, you'll start a relationship with Him and He'll begin to change your life. No matter what you do, no matter how good you are or how bad you are, you never have to worry about hell. He'll never abandon you." I stopped the car and he jumped out and ran across traffic and behind the gas station.

I sat in my car and put my hazards on. My air conditioning was out and I had the windows down. I felt exhausted. I put my head in my hands and rubbed my temples. I was so sad for that man. I knew that he was going to buy crack and that with that much money he might kill himself with the amount of drugs he was about to take. I didn't know if he knew Jesus and even after all the lies he had just told me, I couldn't bear the thought of him going to hell and being separated from Christ's love forever. I couldn't even imagine forever. I looked left at the gas station. I saw the man's head peek around the corner and look at me. He came out from behind the gas station and ran back across the street through traffic and up to my car. He grabbed my arm and said, "please man, just go to the Chevron and wait for me. I'll be there in two minutes, why can't you just trust me. You're making me look bad." I said, "I know what you're doing John. I just don't understand why you have to lie to me. Why can't you just tell me that you need the sixty dollars? What you are doing is wrong." " No man, I'm a man of my word. Just trust me!" he said. "You're lying John and you are the one that has to live with that. Remember what I told you. Jesus loves you, it's a free gift, all you have to do is accept it." His eyes filled up with tears and he said, "just wait for me man, just go to the Chevron, just trust me." "Jesus loves you John," I said. He ran limping back across traffic and behind the gas station. I went to the Chevron and backed my car into a spot facing the highway. My AC was broken and I was pouring sweat. I began to pray that John would accept God's love, and that he wouldn't hurt any more people. When I went home everyone was waiting for me. And it was one of the best birthdays I've ever had.

Monday, June 05, 2006

The Liverpool Wanderers

A few months ago, my compatriot Kyle, decided that he wanted to travel through Europe this summer with a few of his friends. A decision such as this becomes of more and more imminant import as the months go by at this age, because at this age any girl who walks into your life could soon become your wife, and as a reaction of which could soon bare your children. And once these joyful life-long commitments enter your life, the prospect of long-term international travel dies a quick and not pain-free death.

Kyle left his job in April, and took three weeks off. Went home to Austin to spend a little time with his family and then flew to London. He will be gone for two months during which time he and a few other travelers will be making a run at oceanographic exploration across continental Europe. Soon he will be watching the World Cup in Germany, sometime after which his European jaunt will be capped by a Baltic Sea cruise with his family coming to join him.

His account is fascinating. Read it here.

Sunday, June 04, 2006

The Worth of Life, Eternity Unfathomable

I've got a story to tell. I need a night's sleep to wrap my head around what happened to me to day, but let me just outline the kind of day it's been:

A.M. - Go to church with my sister and her husband. They played the music that I liked, hymms to contemporary arrangments, and then the band played a Bob Dylan song.

Lunch - A homecooked meal by Mom. Laid out by the pool, got a bit sun-burnt. Quality time with my wealth.

Afternoon - Bought a Camelback for mountain biking, love it.

Late Afternoon - A crack addict jumps in my car and rides around with me for an hour until I give him $60.

Night - Lots of friends come over to celebrate my birthday. It was an awesome and diverse mix and everyone seemed to have a great time. Martha and Meridith brought chocolate cake! We drank delicious Ales, and the ladies drank white wine. I made coffee in my French-press for the girls who had to drive back to Fort Worth. It was one of the best birthdays I've ever had.

This has been a strange and wonderful day.

Saturday, June 03, 2006

Probably the Order of My Procrastination

Drudge Report
BBC News
Notions on Being
Esme's Blog

I'm not very good at surfing the internet. In fact, I didn't even start surfing the internet until I took my job a year and a half ago. It used to boggle my mind that anyone could spend any time at all looking around on the internet. I used to get very suspicious of people who did that. But now, I can spend four hours just looking around, usually on the sites listed above, and usually somewhat in that order. Some days I'm completely bored by the internet and some days I can't get enough of it.

Dooce, is a funny writer, and a great photographer, and an ex-Mormon. Kottke is a web-designer of some sort and is very dependable as far as format and great links go. The Facebook is a place to keep a record of what my friends are up to, and better than Disneyland for all stalkers. The Drudge Report is an amalgam of links of usually conservative and often strange news articles from various sites. Notions on Being is Martha's blog, she's my friend and one of the only other people I know who blogs. Esme is a girl whom I've never met and I have no idea how I came across her blog, she takes interesting pictures and writes only in Spanish. NPR is a highly underrated source for news and interesting things of all sorts. I read Aljazeera because it's really interesting to get their side of the story. You want fair and balanced? Read a story and then compare it to Aljazeera's account. I don't read it as a reliable news source.

I don't know if these sites have been good or bad for me. It's reading, and that's good. It's pretty healthy subject matter and that's good. I read them at work which is bad. And they take up a lot of my time, which might also not be good. But they add something to look forward to each day and for that I'm grateful. Au demain (Fr), my birthday.

Thursday, June 01, 2006

Sitting Waiting Wishing

My plans fell through this evening. I hung out with friends, so it wasn't a total loss. But the evening that I had idealized all afternoon didn't come together. We watched sports, I ate bad nachos and had two Fat Tires, which were actually adequately priced. Everytime I think that I can handle the bar scene I am proved wrong. Everytime I think that I am strong enough, my personality is over-powered. There is about a 20 minute window, during which time I'm at the top of my game. Maybe it's nervous energy, but in that span I am quick witted, engaged, and all smiles. And then pretty soon comes the introspection, and then my judgmental nature rears it's ugly head. This phenomenon doesn't happen at pubs. Which brings me to the conclusion that it is a result - not of going out, not of 30 decibel profanity, not of selfish arrogance...but of neon, that stupid, poorly hung neon. And those stupid beer banners. Why do they hang that crap? The one thing of redeeming value at this particular bar was a 5 foot tall, 3 foot wide painting of the 70's Elvis. I wish I had a picture. Just imagine the prettiest sunset you've ever seen. Now imagine Elvis flying on a magic carpet through the clouds. There you have it.

I'll see you over a pint some time. Oh and P.S. Sometimes I'm tempted to wish I wasn't a runner because I want to start smoking a pipe.

The Revolution of No Name

This is Donald Miller:
I do not want to give Donald Miller the credit for any movement, at least not any Christian movement. I think he would agree that if such a movement truly exists that he had nothing to do with it. What I do want to give Donald Miller credit for is eloquently putting words to that movement. Thank God for Blue Like Jazz, and Derek Webb's music and the Bible. They pulled me out of a very dark place.

I'm not going to give a review on Blue Like Jazz, and I don't think that it is for everyone. But I will say that if you are looking for something good to read and you are willing to give it a chance and read it deliberately, it is a great book and well worth your time.

Another thing I won't be talking about is the Emerging Church. I don't like the way it sounds and I feel that talking about it would only weaken it's legitamacy if it is real, and it just excites me too much that God is working on the hearts of the church in the way that he is working in my heart.