Chair

This weekend has has been pitifully unproductive. I'm pretty sure 84% of it was spent sitting right here on my butt at my desk on my computer. I can't even what I did on Friday night/Saturday. Like, physically can't remember. And it's not because anything crazy happened since then to overshadow it...it was just so boring that it evidently wasn't worth remembering. Apparently I wrote in my journal, because there's an entry there from then. Oh, and I skyped one of my best friends from high school, and went to get severely-overpriced ice cream downtown. (For the record, it was good. But when you consider the outrageous hike there and back, plus nearly six dollars for a milkshake, I would settle for the dinky ice cream place across the street any day, gourmet or no.) I think a movie may have been included in there somewhere. Sunday was a church day (yes, I actually went. First time in nearly a month. Broke the streak), then we made homemade soft pretzels for lunch. Which were FANTASTIC. Linus and I came back and farted around for a while, I watched the Python oratorio (made my night) and wrote a letter. Then we wound up spending the next five hours with our friends at their dorm - five fabulous, Sorry-filled, brownie-ridden, movie-soaked hours.

This morning was the Labor Day firehouse (or, if you're from Pennsylvania, fire hall) pancake breakfast. Since we had a day off from classes and pancake breakfasts are one in a blue moon (which, incidentally, we had last week - Neil Armstrong was buried by it) we hiked downtown with our brother unit. It was actually a lot of fun. We came back in the drizzle and worked on homework for a while.

No, seriously, I did: I was so bored sitting here watching Monty Python and playing Freecell that I got a headstart on my homework due this week and beyond (a.k.a. my final analysis not due until December and a biographical analysis paper due next Tuesday...for which I should have started research last week). Went for food and fireworks at the Labor Day festival (first time in my life I've ever been close enough to fireworks to be showered by ash - as a friend of mine noted, it was like Vesuvius), had one of those laughing-so-hard-that-you-forget-you're-actually-walking journeys back to the dorm. Where I sit now. In my chair, as I have for most of the weekend. I shall call him Old Reliable, because I never leave him.

Scratch that: just got up to kill a bug. Should've warned Linus before I smacked the wall witih my shoe.

I didn't do anything productive in the past three days. I'm going home this weekend, and I'm sure I'll regret not working ahead when I'm ignoring my family on Saturday night writing a paper about Edgar Allan Poe. (Alright, I actually have two pages finished on that and it was super easy to whip out. The rest is opinion....how hard can that be?) I really didn't hang out with many people (except my brother unit, and they're pretty cool), didn't even leave the village. And aside from the bored-to-productivity bout at the end, it was really, really good. It was the first legitimately free weekend I've had since...spring break. I watched the "Life of Brian" debate and got some really good material for the paper I'm writing on it (the first paper in maybe forever that I'm actually excited to write). I wrote a lot on a fiction thing that randomly came to me earlier this week and is actually becoming something intriguing.

Tomorrow it's back to real life and class and homework and a schedule. But we needed such a break, even after two weeks of class. I think we'll be able to make it to fall break. : )

Oh, and I got to explain underlying aspects of a play to an actor who was actually in that play a few years ago. Felt very posh indeed. : )

Happy Labor Day to you, whether you labored or not.

Seriously?

I'm the only person I know whose faith has been influenced by Monty Python. If you don't know who they are (and you should, because they're wonderful), they are an English comedy group, most popular from the late-60s to mid-80s. Their credits include a television show, "Monty Python's Flying Circus," and four films, the most popular of which is "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" and the most controversial of which is "Life of Brian." In various interviews, each of them have stated their distaste for organized religion because of the hypocrisy; Terry Jones said, "What's funny is that Christ said all these really good things about 'love thy neighbor' and everything, and then for the next 2000 years people are killing each other and torturing each other because they can't quite decide how He said it." However, where most of them have completely shunned religion, I chose to look for something different. As Shane Claiborne wrote in his book Irresistable Revolution, "I'm not a Christian anymore. I gave up Christianity to follow Jesus."

This realization comes at a pretty prime moment in light of the whole Chick-fil-a ordeal, which I'm really starting to get sick of, so please forgive whatever I may write here because I'm in my "I'm fed up, let me rant" mode. My Facebook news feed is full of "so-and-so expressed their personal opinions about Chick-fil-a" and "another so-and-so wrote some profound explanation of how their faith is different so they won't rock the boat and offend people."

Python was criticized for their film "Life of Brian" (which actually isn't blasphemous if you watch it in the mindset that Python intended). But they strove to offend people who followed man's rules of religion blindly without bothering to hear what God had to say (we call them "Pharisees"), and they did just that. I'm writing my own personal stance on the Chick-fil-a saga, knowing that I may get criticism. But it's my personal belief, and since everybody else is proclaiming theirs, I'm doing the same.

In an LA Times article, one same-sex advocate said that God supports all kinds of love. "Love is love," she said, "and God has given us love to be shared."

Really? Because I'm pretty sure the act of homosexuality is a pretty blatant no-no: "If a man has sexual relations with a man as one does with a woman, both of them have done what is detestable. They are to be put to death; their blood will be on their own heads" (Lev. 20.13). I see no addition that says, "Well, it's OK if they're actually in love because all love is acceptable." Chick-fil-a is showing their detestation for the act of homosexuality because as Christians we are supposed to detest it. It's a sin - we are to have no stomach for it at all. But because of the fallen nature of our world, we who call wrong "wrong" are dubbed "intolerant" and "unloving."

I'm not saying that homosexuals will burn in hell, I want to make that VERY clear. The act of homosexuality - the actual sexual act, not necessarily the draw toward people of the same sex - is a sin, just like lying, coveting, and gossip, all of which I am guilty of. (Oh, you got me, I'm a Christian and human and I screw up.) "Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners - of whom I am the worst. But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display His immense patience as an example for those who would believe in Him and receive eternal life" (I Tim. 1.15-16). I wasn't judged for my own sins - in fact, Jesus Christ took my shortcomings (past, present, and future), transported them from me to Him, and suffered in my place. And this isn't just me - this is EVERYONE who has been saved by Christ, whether they be liars, thieves, or homosexuals. And He didn't say, "You're a horrible person so I'm cutting off your hand so you share in the suffering since I took most of it." Our sins are GONE - no more, ceased to be, totally off our record. So we should feel no authority to judge other people because of their actions or personal beliefs because we don't have that authority!!!! We never have, we never will. EVER.

I'm gonna say it: I'm a Christian. I'm against the act of homosexuality, just as I'm against murder and lying and theft and gossip. I can't help it - when I was saved that aversion entered my nature and I can't get rid of it. But I have homosexual friends, just I have friends who are cut-throat and legalistic and atheists and very difficult to love. And I love them dearly because that's what I'm called to do.

In a world that cries for tolerance of personal beliefs, perhaps people who don't want to be judged shouldn't judge themselves. Christians shouldn't call out other people for being wrong and immoral - they should love them with Christ's love, because that's why we're still here on this earth. And maybe those who want tolerance for their sexual preferences should allow for other people's personal beliefs, like those who say that homosexuality is wrong.

Come on, people. Judge not lest ye be judged.

Picturesque

We lost an icon this week with the passing of Andy Griffith. As a figure of Small Town, USA, he represented a time when things were simple, life was sweet, and everybody knew your name when you sat on your front porch with a guitar.

Now, fifty years after Mayberry, that place seems a thing of the past.

If you're from Ohio, you'll remember the "hurricane" that blew through several years ago. For eight or ten hours, the wind blew at 80+ mph, taking down trees, knocking out electricity for days, and damaging houses. My siblings and I walked around our neighborhood in the middle of it to see who had lost the most trees. People checking their yards would wander over next-door to talk with their neighbors. Our city was only out of power for a few hours, but friends living on the outskirts went for four or five days without air conditioning or refridgeration. So we sent out an invitation for them to come to our house for showers, laundry, and dinner. Since their freezers were out, all of them brought food, and for several days we constantly had people in and out of our house, bringing clothes, Stouffers lasagnas, and frozen meat. My sister commented that every day found us asking, "Who's coming over tonight?" At one point we had close to twenty-five people.

It was strangely fun, and I was a little sad when their power came back on.

Why does it take a "natural disaster" to make people neighbors? "Neighbor" has come to mean "the person you live next to whose name you may or may not know." When did it stop being "the person you interact with, help, talk to, invite over for barbecues"? It seems we get so focused on our agendas and our priorities that we forget to look at the people around us and say, "I wonder how they're doing today." So often we live in a community without being a community, in the same way that Christians are part of the church whether or not they go to church. When did we lose the ability to embody "neighbor" and "community" and extend ourselves to others?

Are we ever going to bring it back? Will we ever again live in a Mayberry state-of-mind?

Rest in peace, Andy. You were more to us than just a sheriff. You were a symbol, one that we don't want to let go just yet.

Breakfast

In less than a week I will be twenty years old. Typically, as with the end of a school year, I take a minute to evaluate what’s going on in my head – lessons, realizations, brainstorms, what-have-you. As I sit this morning in a quiet house, I have a chance to think about things. And I realized that the life in which I find myself can be described as “day in, day out.” And I’ve had more comforting thoughts to ponder over breakfast.

This morning I let my dogs out of their crates, got them breakfast, made coffee, ate a protein bar, got on the computer. I’m about to pour another cup of coffee, go get a shower, go to work for eight hours, come home, eat dinner, work on biology homework, clean, watch TV, read, then crash into bed, just to do the same thing tomorrow. I know I’m only nineteen (twenty in six days) and that this life I’m living will pass. But what if it’s the first of many stages? What if the rest of my life will be punching a time clock and having that “just getting by” feeling hovering over my head?

What do you do when you realize your life is becoming “day in, day out”?

How do you change that? If you even can?

It’s a great comfort to me that this “now” is temporary. I won’t always be here. I won’t always work at a job I hate or don’t understand. Biology won’t last forever. I won’t always be confused. Actually I probably will be, but maybe someday I’ll be able to articulate it, maybe even fix it. Eventually I will be able to look backwards and be grateful instead of yearning for “forward”. A day is coming when I won’t put so much stock in my appearance or what people think. I’ll feel the freedom to live out my dreams and say “Screw the logic, screw the reality dose.” I won’t be afraid to put myself out into the world, I’ll remember that failure is a disguised stepping stone. I will play the violin whether I’m good or not, no matter who hears me. I might follow a whim or two, without regard for what others deem it, “cool” or “lame” with a raised eyebrow and wrinkled lip. Maybe someday I won’t rely so heavily on their opinions – I’ll listen to the head on my shoulders and the heart within me and realize that they are actually much stronger than I gave them credit for.

I have a lot of “somedays” left to live.

Who says I can’t start living them today?

We'll re-evaluate in the next twenty years.

New England #2 - Numb

In her book Eat Pray Love (of which I only read the "eat" part), Elizabeth Gilbert talks about slowing down, so much so that you gain ridiculous, wonderful pleasure in small things. "The amount of pleasure this eating and speaking brought to me," she writes (in the Italy section), "was inestimable, and yet so simple." She forgets about her body image for a while, allowing her body to say, "Eat for today, we'll re-evaluate later."

Last week, I put aside my calorie-counting and slowed down at tables across New England.

Most of our food was of the sea variety, being so near the Atlantic. In Rhode Island I tried a clam sandwich for the first time, as well as jambalaya (which I love anyway) with oysters (which made it a fabillion times better). My first experience ever with fresh lobster was at a little lobster shack just over the border in Kittery, Maine. Simple things along the way: pizza at Mystic Seaport, hotdogs at Long Wharf in Boston, several Philly cheesesteak sandwiches (a personal vice), a reuben at an Irish pub in New Hampshire (another vice, sans the saurkraut), one night all we wanted was a milkshake, another night we stuck to peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in our hotel.

And of course, one can't venture to New England without getting several bowls of legit, creamy, un-canned clam chowder.

My favorite place, though: definitely the North End. Otherwise known as "Little Italy."

Just a jaunt over from the Old North Church is Hanover Street, the first place that I've ever smelled the transition from Chinese to garlic. Naturally there are tons of Italian restaurants throughout the North End, but we chose a place called Strega on Hanover. I had chicken covered in cheese, prosciutto, and a sauce that made my brain shut down. And if you ever travel to Boston, don't you dare leave without going to Mike's Pastry and getting a canoli. If you don't know what a canoli is (you should watch "Cake Boss" more often), it's basically a hard dough shell filled with cream or ricotta cheese (sounds nasty, it's not), and depending on what kind you order, a type of flavoring. We went there twice, and I got a florentine (the shell is made with honey) and a hazelnut (the cream is flavored with hazelnut and the ends are covered in grated coconut).

I read a quote in a book once: "The chocolate mousse made me happy to be alive." In Boston, the canoli made me happy to be alive.

Since I'm home I'm paying for my indulgence now, but it was vacation. It was New England. And it was awesome.

New England #1 - Map

After a week of walking, eating, and sightseeing (but mostly eating), we are home from New England. For years my family has been working on a goal of visiting all 50 states, and we hit six - Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, New Hampshire, Vermont, and Maine - in a week.

We flew into Boston on Friday and drove up to Rhode Island, where we spent two nights. We didn't do much sightseeing there - hung around in our hotel on the first day, went to some local food joints, saw the mansions in Newport (if you get a chance to go there, make sure to go off the beaten path and see the Breakers - the largest house in that area, built by the Vanderbuilts). On Sunday we drove to Connecticut and saw Mystic Seaport (not "mystical," it's an actual town called Mystic) and the Hartford houses of Mark Twain and Harriet Beecher Stowe. We continued to Vermont, where we stopped long enough to get gas and walk around the gas station (if we touch the ground there, we say we've been there) before heading to New Hampshire. Monday morning found us in Maine at a lobster house (the first time Austin and I ate lobster), and we were back in Boston by dinner.

Our sightseeing began on Tuesday in Lexington. We tried to go to the Isabelle Gardiner House (an incredible house in which the walls are covered with collected artwork) and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's house, which doubled as George Washington's headquarters during the Revolutionary War...but both were closed on Tuesdays. Frustrated, we drove back downtown to the Old North Church, where Robert Newman hung two lanterns to let Paul Revere know the British were coming by sea (remember the poem?). Behind the Old North Church is Hanover Street in the North End (Little Italy), where Mike's Pastry is located and sells canolis - a must when you hit Boston. After eating our canolis under a statue of Paul Revere, we walked across Boston Common to the Granary Burying Ground, the final resting place of Paul Revere, Sam Adams, John Hancock, and many other Sons of Liberty.

Foul weather on Boston Day #2, so we spent most of the day inside. Austin led us to the aquarium, and, being near the water already, we visited "Old Ironsides" (the USS Constitution, used in Revoluationary War battles against the British), saw the Boston Massacre sight at the Old State House, grabbed lunch at Quincy Market, took a "duck tour" of the city (a "duck" is a vehicle that can be driven on land and taken directly into the water as a boat), and saw Paul Revere's house in Little Italy. As we left the hotel the next morning, we found the weather to be much better and took a trolley tour of the city, as well as a two-hour cruise in Boston Harbor on a tallship. (Legit ship - ropes, sails, helm, whole nine yards. We were even able to "hoist the sails" with the crew members. Chan, Aus, and I decided that we had to watch "Pirates of the Caribbean" when we got home.) Incredible dinner in Little Italy that night to round out a great week (don't worry, I'm dedicating another whole post to the food).

I'm not one for big cities - NYC unnerves me, Chicago is nice but I don't think I could live there, San Francisco is more my speed if it didn't cost a small child to live there. But I think I could do Boston if I had to. A car is out of the question there: parking payments are outrageous, you probably wouldn't survive if you aren't a defensive driver, and an entire day can easily be wasted, even outside rush hour. The bus is a good option, the "T" (subway system) is even better. We all used an extra measure of flexibility and tolerance (and not to be claustrophobic, especially in public transportation). Overall, it was a great trip - learned a lot, saw a lot, gained a little more appreciation for the freedom that began in that very city (more to come on that as well).

Lysosome

My days are all wonky. I started a five-day working stint on Friday and rolled out bed this morning thinking, "Wow! Thursday already!"

Nope.

When not slaving through an online biology class and Victor Hugo (I quit reading Les Miserables with only one hundred pages to go, so I'm reading the whole thing over again before I see the new movie, which, by this movie snob's standards, actually looks pretty good, I'm reading The Power of an Ordinary Life by Harvey Hook. It's been sitting on my shelf for three years, and I've never read it all the way through. (I have a problem with starting books and forgetting about them.) As I was reading last night, it dawned on me that I have a skewed perspective of God. Hook wrote a poem, supposedly what God was saying to him, and one part said, "Be still. I love you." I've grown up in church (not Sunday school, though - never have I ever been to Sunday school), so I've heard my entire life, "For God so loved the world," "the love of God," "the love that God has for us." But I've never thought of it as actual love. I've never considered it the flippant "love you" I shout to my family on my way out the door. (That's wrong, the love isn't flippant, just the way I say it.) But I've always pictured God as the benevolent ruler to be respected and honored, not the Father who runs down the driveway to throw His arms around me and say, "Oh, my child, I love you so much!"

When I think of Him that way, I don't feel the rush of joy and pride, that "yeah, I'm loved by God, that's pretty awesome" feeling. Instead I fall to my knees and hide my face with my hands. "My Lord, my Lord," I can't help sobbing, almost in pain under the weight of His affection, "I'm the last person, alive or dead, who deserves Your love. I'm completely unworthy, there's someone else that has earned it and lives in such a way that merits Your favor."

So often I forget that He doesn't leave me on the ground. He pulls me up, puts His hands on my shoulders, and whispers, "I know. But I'm giving it to you anyway."

Just an example of the things I think about when I'm exhausted and should really be studying biology instead of writing.

***

Premonition - that feeling you get when you put on a pair of underwear and say, "These are going to give me problems all day" and still walk out of the house wearing them.