This moive was incredible.
The climax where he wins the 20 million rps. was an amazing collection of emotions. With the many things happeing at once you don't know what emotion to feel and are left with numbness much like the hero, Jamal.
I loved it.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Monday, May 25, 2009
The house was completely run down. You couldn't tell from the outside, but he knew. There wasn't a single house left that hadn't been scoured for supplies, pulled to pieces to make firewood, or simply destroyed in some cathartic fit of rage by one or many pepole who knew they weren't long for this world. No, the house wasn't good for anything anymore. It's french doors useless props to impress high scoiety friends who had become ash long ago, the hardwood floors torn up and no longer able to carry the creaks and groans from the man sneaking downstairs for a latenight snack, and it's brick fireplace no longer in service to man but instead in service to a family of raccons. They knew the value of this place and could put it to use. At least some living thing could do so.
He grumbled to no one in particular about entering the house. Who was there to hear? God? But he was hungry and he learned long ago to trust the oustide chances. Besides, he had no choice. It was this house or death. Nearly three days wihout water and alomst a week without food left him weak and hopeless.
Moving down an empty hall way from the empty kitchen he checked his pockets. The search produced a small prybar and he held it like weapon, ready for a possible attack. His eyes darted back an forth as the hallway led to an open family room. The room contained dusty, ruined furniture; someone had already taken the stuffing from the chairs and couch for insulation.
"That's alright", he thought, "I already have a thioat to endure this hard, endless winter."
He continued to check the room for more useful items. With the prybar he loosed some moulding he oculd use as firewood, and then he tapped on the floor in search of possible trap doors. He had been saved more than once by finding hidden cellars or bomb shelters created by the former, paranoid homeowners.
"I suppose they weren't really paraniod", he guessed, "they were right."
Suprisingly, his search did yield a trapdoor. The hollow knock rang true and pronounced the possibility of hidden treasures. He removed the moth-eaten rug that hid the door and pryed open the trap. Looking into the infinite darkness he fumbled to find the stairs. It was too dark to see and even if he could find a light switch at the bottom there was certainly no power. Quickly, he pryed loose a chair leg and took a piece of the rug and wrapped it around to create a makeshift torch.
"I hope there isn't a gas leak" he thought.
He produced a lighter from his other pocket and a flask from his inner pocket. First, dousing the cloth in alcohol he then lit the torch which illuminated the entire room.
"This was once a very beautiful home." he conjectured. "These people had money, power, and prestige and where are they now?"
dead
He made his descent into the cellar. It was a brick one probably created by the original owners, and it must have held some great treasures at one time. Hoping this space had not been found before, he looked around once he arrived at the bottom of the stairs.
He looked around and saw a long corridor leardin to a room. He walked down the corridor. The wall contained family photos of trips to Hawaii, France, California, every place imaginable He wondered what the trips might have been like, what those times were like before this new age of survival began. Before the end of time and the beginning of chaos.
Reaching the end of the corridor he arrived in the room. It was a small cave with old barrels and shelves; a wine cellar. He checked the racks for bottles or anything at all. Most of the slots were empty, a few held broken pieces of glass, and some the carcasses of long dead rats. He searched the floor and found a case that looked intouched.
"Former looters must have thought this was a table" he said out loud to on one in particular.
He pried the top free and lowered his torch. The case was full and held bottles marked: Chateau Petrus 1985. What a find if this were another day and age. Wine was useless for the most part; better if they contained water instead, and the wine was long past it's prime.
"It must be vingear by now" he thought as he broke the top of one bottle.
He poured a little into his cupped hands and sipped. Proving his point, he spat out the turned liquid and stared at the case. A fitting symbol for the world that once held much promise. Now it had turned sour and, from here, there was no going back.
He grumbled to no one in particular about entering the house. Who was there to hear? God? But he was hungry and he learned long ago to trust the oustide chances. Besides, he had no choice. It was this house or death. Nearly three days wihout water and alomst a week without food left him weak and hopeless.
Moving down an empty hall way from the empty kitchen he checked his pockets. The search produced a small prybar and he held it like weapon, ready for a possible attack. His eyes darted back an forth as the hallway led to an open family room. The room contained dusty, ruined furniture; someone had already taken the stuffing from the chairs and couch for insulation.
"That's alright", he thought, "I already have a thioat to endure this hard, endless winter."
He continued to check the room for more useful items. With the prybar he loosed some moulding he oculd use as firewood, and then he tapped on the floor in search of possible trap doors. He had been saved more than once by finding hidden cellars or bomb shelters created by the former, paranoid homeowners.
"I suppose they weren't really paraniod", he guessed, "they were right."
Suprisingly, his search did yield a trapdoor. The hollow knock rang true and pronounced the possibility of hidden treasures. He removed the moth-eaten rug that hid the door and pryed open the trap. Looking into the infinite darkness he fumbled to find the stairs. It was too dark to see and even if he could find a light switch at the bottom there was certainly no power. Quickly, he pryed loose a chair leg and took a piece of the rug and wrapped it around to create a makeshift torch.
"I hope there isn't a gas leak" he thought.
He produced a lighter from his other pocket and a flask from his inner pocket. First, dousing the cloth in alcohol he then lit the torch which illuminated the entire room.
"This was once a very beautiful home." he conjectured. "These people had money, power, and prestige and where are they now?"
dead
He made his descent into the cellar. It was a brick one probably created by the original owners, and it must have held some great treasures at one time. Hoping this space had not been found before, he looked around once he arrived at the bottom of the stairs.
He looked around and saw a long corridor leardin to a room. He walked down the corridor. The wall contained family photos of trips to Hawaii, France, California, every place imaginable He wondered what the trips might have been like, what those times were like before this new age of survival began. Before the end of time and the beginning of chaos.
Reaching the end of the corridor he arrived in the room. It was a small cave with old barrels and shelves; a wine cellar. He checked the racks for bottles or anything at all. Most of the slots were empty, a few held broken pieces of glass, and some the carcasses of long dead rats. He searched the floor and found a case that looked intouched.
"Former looters must have thought this was a table" he said out loud to on one in particular.
He pried the top free and lowered his torch. The case was full and held bottles marked: Chateau Petrus 1985. What a find if this were another day and age. Wine was useless for the most part; better if they contained water instead, and the wine was long past it's prime.
"It must be vingear by now" he thought as he broke the top of one bottle.
He poured a little into his cupped hands and sipped. Proving his point, he spat out the turned liquid and stared at the case. A fitting symbol for the world that once held much promise. Now it had turned sour and, from here, there was no going back.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
I sat in this chair; an akward, inflexible thing that brought more to mind that just sitting. The way I sat in this too short, too small object brought to mind a curiosity in my life. An idea that came back again and again through the years. I am old at twenty-four. Not to say I feel physically old. I was aerobically in the best shape of my life, and there seemed no end to progress in the direction of fitness. No, I was growing younger on the exterior, but my interior deterioration chugged along at it's consistent, nonstop pace.
In that chair I felt my feet bend together, my shoulders slouch forward, and my hands shrivel inward. Even my hair seemed to lose it normal fullness and my eyes felt weary from years that hadn't even existed. It was as if I had lived another life full of experiences and could not wait to find rest for my bones. They creaked but did not hurt. I was two at once, a stranger within another stranger which made the whole of me old, but young.
I repositioned myself within the chair and let out a sigh not of tiredness or sadness. It was a sigh made from the joining I experienced. As if the meeting of two created a rush of the air that once stood between them. Coming ever closer, they pushed together until there was no visible space between them. Then the real fusion began. Quickly, molecules collided in a real but unreal connection. Pushing out theose that were redundant and fusing those that must be joined; one experience to another, one scar to another, and one memory to another.
Why was I old and young? I had been told on different occasions that I seemed like a grandfather, or and elder. I sat in the way that old men sit and thought in the way that old men think. I would feel drawn to the elderly and their story as if it were mine. I was fact checking their statement for corroborating evidence to a story I didn't know. My kindred spirits were not to be found among those who shared my birthyear, but those who might have been my physical father or grandfather.
There were parts to my age and seemed to come from many places. They were drawn from time and place and pulled towards me as if I were some blackhole, but my insatiable power did not draw matter to a place where gravity was irresistible. I was irresistably drawing experience, life force, and understanding to me and I would connect age with youth in a cold fusion that permanently altered my very being. I pulled from the rugged, western cowboy whose weathered face knew too many places and had seen too many things. I sucked up the english gentleman whose manners portrayed the understanding of history and civility. I absorbed the dying soldier whose deathbed prayer hoped for a better world, but knew all to well the futility of his bitter struggles.
With these pieces fused I sat and waged war within myself. Hopefulness against cynicism, misery against ecstasy, martyrdom against egotism, independence against community, and on and on it went until every battle was waged and every war fought. No answer was to be found and no reilef was to be administered. I was, all at once, the epitome of all things ancient and new. The worlds longest standing questions raised in my mere existence and, without a word, I continued the long march through old age.
In that chair I felt my feet bend together, my shoulders slouch forward, and my hands shrivel inward. Even my hair seemed to lose it normal fullness and my eyes felt weary from years that hadn't even existed. It was as if I had lived another life full of experiences and could not wait to find rest for my bones. They creaked but did not hurt. I was two at once, a stranger within another stranger which made the whole of me old, but young.
I repositioned myself within the chair and let out a sigh not of tiredness or sadness. It was a sigh made from the joining I experienced. As if the meeting of two created a rush of the air that once stood between them. Coming ever closer, they pushed together until there was no visible space between them. Then the real fusion began. Quickly, molecules collided in a real but unreal connection. Pushing out theose that were redundant and fusing those that must be joined; one experience to another, one scar to another, and one memory to another.
Why was I old and young? I had been told on different occasions that I seemed like a grandfather, or and elder. I sat in the way that old men sit and thought in the way that old men think. I would feel drawn to the elderly and their story as if it were mine. I was fact checking their statement for corroborating evidence to a story I didn't know. My kindred spirits were not to be found among those who shared my birthyear, but those who might have been my physical father or grandfather.
There were parts to my age and seemed to come from many places. They were drawn from time and place and pulled towards me as if I were some blackhole, but my insatiable power did not draw matter to a place where gravity was irresistible. I was irresistably drawing experience, life force, and understanding to me and I would connect age with youth in a cold fusion that permanently altered my very being. I pulled from the rugged, western cowboy whose weathered face knew too many places and had seen too many things. I sucked up the english gentleman whose manners portrayed the understanding of history and civility. I absorbed the dying soldier whose deathbed prayer hoped for a better world, but knew all to well the futility of his bitter struggles.
With these pieces fused I sat and waged war within myself. Hopefulness against cynicism, misery against ecstasy, martyrdom against egotism, independence against community, and on and on it went until every battle was waged and every war fought. No answer was to be found and no reilef was to be administered. I was, all at once, the epitome of all things ancient and new. The worlds longest standing questions raised in my mere existence and, without a word, I continued the long march through old age.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Immediate Gratification
Here's my recent insight:
As I was judging groups and individuals for a talent show I have relaized that these kids were not prepared. Very few of them seemed to have spent the time to create a quality performance, and yet they seemed to almost expect a chance to perform at the show. This is also not relegated to just tlanet and music related things.
I believe that, in our internet fueled/have it now culture, children to not know the value of hard work. That's not to say I was raised with the true knowledge either. It started with my generation; we grew up with the internet and had information, entertainment, and connectivity at our fingertips. It took no work to do what we needed and then never gave us cause to learn the value of hard work.
It's far worse now, however, since the digital age has been in full swing for these kids. They can become an instrant celebrity with American Idol or YouTube, and they don't see or understand the work that comes with those things. All they have to do is show up and they will be applauded and given a "sticker".
Sadly, this translates to lack of motivation in school and lazinessacross the board. I see so many students who simply fill a chair and get frustrated when they aren't at the top of the class. They expect everything to be spoon-fed to them and, if they don't understand right away, it probably doesn't matter and they don't have to do it. It's sad when we are trying to work on teaching the piano to students (something parents tell me they would like to play all the time) and these students don't understand. We spend months on the notes, show them where the correct keys are, label the keys with note names, sing the song with note names, and do "fun" review games, bu they still have no idea. Now, these aren't the ones who are trying. Some students talk through the entire explination or space out and then expect to be able to perform.
You cannot perform admirably on anything unless you are willing to put in the time.
Get help, work hard, spend the time, and crush it!
I wish that the newest children born recently or are soon to be born will understand this. the world cannot take and entire population that is uninspired, needy, and demanding.
No one is going to applaud (and mean it) a half-hearted effort.
Maybe I'll write more on this later. If I'm feeling inspired
As I was judging groups and individuals for a talent show I have relaized that these kids were not prepared. Very few of them seemed to have spent the time to create a quality performance, and yet they seemed to almost expect a chance to perform at the show. This is also not relegated to just tlanet and music related things.
I believe that, in our internet fueled/have it now culture, children to not know the value of hard work. That's not to say I was raised with the true knowledge either. It started with my generation; we grew up with the internet and had information, entertainment, and connectivity at our fingertips. It took no work to do what we needed and then never gave us cause to learn the value of hard work.
It's far worse now, however, since the digital age has been in full swing for these kids. They can become an instrant celebrity with American Idol or YouTube, and they don't see or understand the work that comes with those things. All they have to do is show up and they will be applauded and given a "sticker".
Sadly, this translates to lack of motivation in school and lazinessacross the board. I see so many students who simply fill a chair and get frustrated when they aren't at the top of the class. They expect everything to be spoon-fed to them and, if they don't understand right away, it probably doesn't matter and they don't have to do it. It's sad when we are trying to work on teaching the piano to students (something parents tell me they would like to play all the time) and these students don't understand. We spend months on the notes, show them where the correct keys are, label the keys with note names, sing the song with note names, and do "fun" review games, bu they still have no idea. Now, these aren't the ones who are trying. Some students talk through the entire explination or space out and then expect to be able to perform.
You cannot perform admirably on anything unless you are willing to put in the time.
Get help, work hard, spend the time, and crush it!
I wish that the newest children born recently or are soon to be born will understand this. the world cannot take and entire population that is uninspired, needy, and demanding.
No one is going to applaud (and mean it) a half-hearted effort.
Maybe I'll write more on this later. If I'm feeling inspired
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Wine Tasting
Here's my first shot at wine writing:
Conquista
2007 Malbec
Mendoza, Argentina
al 13%
$7.99
Malbec is one of my favorite varieties and Argentina is an up and coming place to grow wine. They also grow Cabernet, Chardonnay, and many other varietals including the native white wine, Torrontes. Argentina is often a place to find a good QPR (quality/price ratio) and the literally the first place I look when buying wine for the week.
note: I opened this wine yesterday so this tasting is a day after opening. The first day was persenting well, but seemed a little closed on the nose and palate.
Color: Farily dark red. It gets thinner on the edges but you can tell this wine should have a decent amount of body
Nose: I get a very sweet smell on the nose that wasn't there yesterday. It reminds me of the old rasberry push pops. I'm thinking of those Flintstone ones we used to get every once in a while. That's really all I get, the smell is very round and shows no structure.
Taste: Bitter tannins really hit home right away. There are some fruity flavors and the rasberry on the nose comes through on the mouthfeel as well. The structure totally dissapears on the finish and it becomes round and then leaves you with just a bitter, acidic taste.
Overall: It's not too bad. I had a better reaction yesterday so it didn't hold up very well over a day. I can't complain for the price
Conquista
2007 Malbec
Mendoza, Argentina
al 13%
$7.99
Malbec is one of my favorite varieties and Argentina is an up and coming place to grow wine. They also grow Cabernet, Chardonnay, and many other varietals including the native white wine, Torrontes. Argentina is often a place to find a good QPR (quality/price ratio) and the literally the first place I look when buying wine for the week.
note: I opened this wine yesterday so this tasting is a day after opening. The first day was persenting well, but seemed a little closed on the nose and palate.
Color: Farily dark red. It gets thinner on the edges but you can tell this wine should have a decent amount of body
Nose: I get a very sweet smell on the nose that wasn't there yesterday. It reminds me of the old rasberry push pops. I'm thinking of those Flintstone ones we used to get every once in a while. That's really all I get, the smell is very round and shows no structure.
Taste: Bitter tannins really hit home right away. There are some fruity flavors and the rasberry on the nose comes through on the mouthfeel as well. The structure totally dissapears on the finish and it becomes round and then leaves you with just a bitter, acidic taste.
Overall: It's not too bad. I had a better reaction yesterday so it didn't hold up very well over a day. I can't complain for the price
Monday, April 13, 2009
Response to 3/12/09 Conviction and Contradiction post
My friend posted these things:
http://twoconmen.blogspot.com/2009/04/self-ishlesslove-1st-movement.html
I have left a short message, but I feel this requires a full blown response.
Using the "Brother's" quote, I will write my own conclusions, related or unrelated to the post blog post that followed it. I hope to come to my own conclusions and shed light on the topic for myself and anyone reading my meandering words.
Here's the quote:
"The more I love humanity in general, the less I love man in particular, that is, spearately, as single individuals. As soon as anyone is near me, his personality disturbs my self-esteem and restricts my freedom. In twenty-four hours I begin to hate even the best of men..."
This quote reminds me of a statement my friend, the one who wrote the blog post, said when I saw him last. to paraphrase, he said that since we, as friends, are separated by distance he is free to wish the best for me. Instead of a jealous love or one with hidden agendas he can wish and pray for the best and find an outside type of happiness form good news in our world.
The Brother's quote takes that idea a step further. When we are around people, we have a vested interest in their lives; what they do affects us in mundane or profound ways. For example, the way my sister chews food with her mouth open is irritating and affects me in a mundane way while a friend who is getting married profoundly affect our intrapersonal relationship.
However, anyone who is not around us does not affect our lives directly. As another example, the sea captain who was rescued in know way affects me directly becuase I am not around him and don't even know him at all. This leaves a different kind of relationship where we can chose to be affected by their circumstance or not. I can follow the career or Phillip Seymour Hoffman (an actor I admire) or chose to ignore him. I can follow friends on facebook or twitter or forget they even exist.
I have jumped around mainly becuase I am posting as I think, but I wan't to focus in on this:
The indirect relationship is easier to endure becuase we have complete control.
Anyone around us cannot truly be controlled by us so that creates many different variables for better or worse. The choice to love someone near to you is difficult becuase is requires risk and a lessening of the self.
To choose to love someone far away (or a people group or celebrity) is easy becuase our relationship can be controlled and variables can be limited. There is no risk is following Gary Vaynerchuk on twitter and there is no lessening of the self when you are enjoying the career sucess of a friend from high school.
It all boils down to our personal control over our lives. We don't want to surrender that control to risk and humility for the most part.
I suppose that is the real beauty of marriage and of the spiritual relationship with Jesus.
http://twoconmen.blogspot.com/2009/04/self-ishlesslove-1st-movement.html
I have left a short message, but I feel this requires a full blown response.
Using the "Brother's" quote, I will write my own conclusions, related or unrelated to the post blog post that followed it. I hope to come to my own conclusions and shed light on the topic for myself and anyone reading my meandering words.
Here's the quote:
"The more I love humanity in general, the less I love man in particular, that is, spearately, as single individuals. As soon as anyone is near me, his personality disturbs my self-esteem and restricts my freedom. In twenty-four hours I begin to hate even the best of men..."
This quote reminds me of a statement my friend, the one who wrote the blog post, said when I saw him last. to paraphrase, he said that since we, as friends, are separated by distance he is free to wish the best for me. Instead of a jealous love or one with hidden agendas he can wish and pray for the best and find an outside type of happiness form good news in our world.
The Brother's quote takes that idea a step further. When we are around people, we have a vested interest in their lives; what they do affects us in mundane or profound ways. For example, the way my sister chews food with her mouth open is irritating and affects me in a mundane way while a friend who is getting married profoundly affect our intrapersonal relationship.
However, anyone who is not around us does not affect our lives directly. As another example, the sea captain who was rescued in know way affects me directly becuase I am not around him and don't even know him at all. This leaves a different kind of relationship where we can chose to be affected by their circumstance or not. I can follow the career or Phillip Seymour Hoffman (an actor I admire) or chose to ignore him. I can follow friends on facebook or twitter or forget they even exist.
I have jumped around mainly becuase I am posting as I think, but I wan't to focus in on this:
The indirect relationship is easier to endure becuase we have complete control.
Anyone around us cannot truly be controlled by us so that creates many different variables for better or worse. The choice to love someone near to you is difficult becuase is requires risk and a lessening of the self.
To choose to love someone far away (or a people group or celebrity) is easy becuase our relationship can be controlled and variables can be limited. There is no risk is following Gary Vaynerchuk on twitter and there is no lessening of the self when you are enjoying the career sucess of a friend from high school.
It all boils down to our personal control over our lives. We don't want to surrender that control to risk and humility for the most part.
I suppose that is the real beauty of marriage and of the spiritual relationship with Jesus.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Relationships vs. Work
This last half-year has been very interesting. I am currently on the "chopping block" for the school district. They have a large deficit and I may be a casualty to the tough economic times. The funny thing is, however, I wouldn't much mind to lose my job.
Of course, I want stability and I worry about finding another position, but I would very much like to skip town. The main reason is relationships. This isn't to say I don't have some friends and aquaintances, but it is not the same as I had in the cities. I can't simply hang out with friends on a weeknight and often my weekends are much the same. I spent this entire weekend alone except for a visit to the YMCA.
This leads me to the point that relationships are much more important than one's career. I love my job, don't get me wrong. It's challenging and worthwhile, but a piece is missing in my life.
I won't continue on this point ad nauseum.
The idea is... I want to lose my job as long as I can find something else in the cities or Sioux City or Indiana. That way I can be near friends or family. I don't want the program here to suffer, but, on a purely personal basis, I'm ready to move on.
(if I do stay here, obviously, I'll make the best of things)
Of course, I want stability and I worry about finding another position, but I would very much like to skip town. The main reason is relationships. This isn't to say I don't have some friends and aquaintances, but it is not the same as I had in the cities. I can't simply hang out with friends on a weeknight and often my weekends are much the same. I spent this entire weekend alone except for a visit to the YMCA.
This leads me to the point that relationships are much more important than one's career. I love my job, don't get me wrong. It's challenging and worthwhile, but a piece is missing in my life.
I won't continue on this point ad nauseum.
The idea is... I want to lose my job as long as I can find something else in the cities or Sioux City or Indiana. That way I can be near friends or family. I don't want the program here to suffer, but, on a purely personal basis, I'm ready to move on.
(if I do stay here, obviously, I'll make the best of things)
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Annoying nicknames
I am absolutley sick of some of the quick nicknames I've recieved in the past few years. They are, quick (usually unintentional) jabs, but they still hurt and can stick with you. Here are a few:
Champ
Big Guy
Buddy
Those are the "big three" of annoying nickames that I don't think I can handle anymore. Quick example.....
I was playing in a concert and spiffed out in my nice new suit. I was ready to play great (and was hoping to look good for an attractive violinist) when an guy with a camera appears at the back door. The door is locked so, like a nice guy, I open the door for him. He then preceded to say, "thanks, big guy". I don't know why, but these quick nicknames make me so very angry. I am not a large person so I must assume it's a reference to either how slender I am (not likely) or how young I look. This a-hole, in my mind, is saying "thanks, little man who looks younger than me and is therefore less important than I am." He is also saying that "there is no way you are a full grown adult with a career not just a job. You are probably another of these high school students running around today."
This may no annoy you but it is tha biggest insult i can recieve. I lived with "champ" for a summer and I've heard "big guy" and "buddy" many times and I can only be insulted.
Man I'm angry. I am a fully grown man who, while still relativley young, is out in the real world and deserves the respect of a professional. I don't deserve this look down your nose at me s*** and I don't I'll put up with it any longer.
Done (spelling and grammar error included)
Champ
Big Guy
Buddy
Those are the "big three" of annoying nickames that I don't think I can handle anymore. Quick example.....
I was playing in a concert and spiffed out in my nice new suit. I was ready to play great (and was hoping to look good for an attractive violinist) when an guy with a camera appears at the back door. The door is locked so, like a nice guy, I open the door for him. He then preceded to say, "thanks, big guy". I don't know why, but these quick nicknames make me so very angry. I am not a large person so I must assume it's a reference to either how slender I am (not likely) or how young I look. This a-hole, in my mind, is saying "thanks, little man who looks younger than me and is therefore less important than I am." He is also saying that "there is no way you are a full grown adult with a career not just a job. You are probably another of these high school students running around today."
This may no annoy you but it is tha biggest insult i can recieve. I lived with "champ" for a summer and I've heard "big guy" and "buddy" many times and I can only be insulted.
Man I'm angry. I am a fully grown man who, while still relativley young, is out in the real world and deserves the respect of a professional. I don't deserve this look down your nose at me s*** and I don't I'll put up with it any longer.
Done (spelling and grammar error included)
Monday, September 29, 2008
Wow, its been over a year since I've written here. I think its about time to write a little bit.
I have a new job teaching orchestra full time and I couldn't be happier about it. The job has plently of room to grow, opportunities to prove my worth as an educator, and a good deal of music department and community support.
However, I had t leave my old home and move to a place where I know no one and start fresh. This is not something I do well. Though I have met a good number of colleagues and aquaintances, I still am basically friendless.
I end up calling my Dad nightly to talk and regularly call old friends to see how they are doing. To make it harder, I have been a part of three weddings this year (two within a month!). Though I love these people and I wish them the best, it does remind me of how alone I feel here. The only reason I'm here is my job and, though that is important, I have a hard time at night. It's been a long time since I've been this alone having gone from home with parents to college to roomates. I now love alone and, basically, have no one to call.
I won't lie. I would love to find a meaningful relationship with a woman. The friends who haven't gotten married are either engaged or headed that way and I have yet to go on a real date. It's a scary position I'm in and I really want to change things, but I don't know how. That siad, I wouldn't mind evena few friends to hang with on the weekends. I need some meaningful contact with people besides teaching and colleage banter.
So here I am. I first year teacher with tons of self-consciousness about a job that is new and another thing to worry about completely. I have no one locally to reassure me or even someone that I can pour myself out to. Besides needing love from others, I need to give love to others and I find is very hard to do in this situation.
Perhaps I'm happy that it's been a while since I've written in this blog. Then no one will read this sad, self indulgent story. But it is nice to vent.
I have a new job teaching orchestra full time and I couldn't be happier about it. The job has plently of room to grow, opportunities to prove my worth as an educator, and a good deal of music department and community support.
However, I had t leave my old home and move to a place where I know no one and start fresh. This is not something I do well. Though I have met a good number of colleagues and aquaintances, I still am basically friendless.
I end up calling my Dad nightly to talk and regularly call old friends to see how they are doing. To make it harder, I have been a part of three weddings this year (two within a month!). Though I love these people and I wish them the best, it does remind me of how alone I feel here. The only reason I'm here is my job and, though that is important, I have a hard time at night. It's been a long time since I've been this alone having gone from home with parents to college to roomates. I now love alone and, basically, have no one to call.
I won't lie. I would love to find a meaningful relationship with a woman. The friends who haven't gotten married are either engaged or headed that way and I have yet to go on a real date. It's a scary position I'm in and I really want to change things, but I don't know how. That siad, I wouldn't mind evena few friends to hang with on the weekends. I need some meaningful contact with people besides teaching and colleage banter.
So here I am. I first year teacher with tons of self-consciousness about a job that is new and another thing to worry about completely. I have no one locally to reassure me or even someone that I can pour myself out to. Besides needing love from others, I need to give love to others and I find is very hard to do in this situation.
Perhaps I'm happy that it's been a while since I've written in this blog. Then no one will read this sad, self indulgent story. But it is nice to vent.
Friday, August 31, 2007
This is how it goes...
I'd like to put in writing my experiences this summer, but, since I'm tired, I'll do a bullet-point system to outline the major events as I saw them then recap at the end.
- Begin the summer with one interview: Painting with college pro. It seems to be my only option (and not too bad)
- Turns out I wasn't meant to paint. I quit (and never got paid!) and spend a few weeks frantically looking for jobs
- I find "The Cleaning Authority" which offered $10 and hour at full time.
- Turns out full time meant undetermined amount of time and less money than you hoped for.
- I still work at "TCA" and spent a good deal of my time trying to find teaching or music jobs to put my degree and passions to use.
- I applied to Maple Grove and never heard from them.
- I waited for Minnehaha Academy and it was filled internally
- I applied to PACT Charter school, interviewed, did a second interview, and didn't get the job
- I applied to Robbinsdale, knew another applicant who got the job (is she really better than me?)
- I applied to Hill-Murray school and still haven't heard from them.
- Still don't have my license so I can't sub.
- Got a job working nights and weekends at Schmitt Music to fill in the need for money.
- Turns out to be very unrewarding and uninspiring working for the "Man" of music
I know that this is typical and I shouldn't get down on myself, but it is impossible not to do so. Situations like this cause one to shake their fists and tear their hearts out. We cry out to God Why! and receive no answer. Each application was like a new jolt of hope, and I thought God was simply teaching me patience and he would come through in the end. But those days came and went. Now I'm stuck where I am and I have to simply go on. Each day I must get up simply because life goes on.
I'm done. I'm sick of retyping all of my dyslexic typing errors.
Bye
Thursday, August 16, 2007
At this moment I feel like being dramatic. I would like to write in broad generalizations which would, hopefully, draw sympathy and pity from the few readers I may have (even if they only exist in my head). Yet, I will not take such a tone becuase I truly despise that cut-your-heart-out melodrama and I refuse to add to the steaming pile of refuse that clutters the online blogging community. Instead I will remain level-headed and write with reason and restraint, but still suppressing my inner self-absorption.
I have come to a conclusion after a summer of simple jobs and poverty (not to undermine real poverty stricken people, I still have it pretty good by some standards) that God is using this painful season to draw a line in the sand. Will I join his secret, peaceful, counter-cultural, and revitalizing revolution (thank you Brian McLaren), or will I turn to my own way which is also the way of the world? He is stripping me of money and power which poison the world and drive all of us in our search for the "American Dream", and he is making it possible to either become depressed or turn to the only source of happiness left - Him.
Problem - I don't know if I can turn my back on money and power. It's not something that you can simply decide and then the world will magically get better. I sure wish I could say that and then God would deliver my dream job and financial security to my doorstep. I also wish I could drive pleasure from trusting in God to provide, but its not that simple. Undoing all that is flesh and sin can't be a simple act of rational thought. Only a spiritual transformation can deliver the comfort and joy I need. However, all I feel is a deep despair and anger at the state of my life. Will God drive me to the very brink of darkness, taking away all of my money and power, to drive worldliness away? When is it enough for God? Must I truly lose it all for the sake of the kingdom?
Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.
Matthew 10:39
Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have, because God has said,
"Never will I leave you;
never will I forsake you."
Hebrews 13:5
"No servant can serve two masters. Either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and Money."
Luke 16:13
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Do You Love Me?
So, this coming week, I am playing the the pit orchestra for a rendition of Fiddler on the Roof. Remembering the musical, I have gone back to scenes from the movie I could find online. The one that hit me today was the song "Do You Love Me?"
I'm not sure why it hit me, but I do know that I felt deeply for the feelings expressed in the words. The realization that Tevye and Golde loved each other after 25 years of marriage and poverty seemed like a beautiful concept to me. I was deeply touched by the happiness they felt upon realizing this and also by the constancy displayed in their relationship. I don't get many opportunities to be covered by waves of emotion, but I cherish them. especially when tied to such a beautiful and noble concept. I suppose I hope to see the same reality in my life someday.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Thoughts on Deep thinking
This is not a new subject for me. I wrote a few poems (if they are good enough to deserve that label) on the reality behind "deep thought". Reading a blog written by one of my friends I am struck by his capacity to use grandiose language and be completely unaware of the pompous way in which his thoughts are delivered. Condescending, hypocritical, and pointless babble were all I found in his "musings".
This type of thought is rampant in the intellectual world that I have gained access to via my recent four year journey into academia. I will continue to be surrounded by these people through teaching and from the very fact that it is in this group that I find myself. Not all of the intellectual crowd suffers from this affliction of the mouth. Some people truly do know what they are talking about and approach these sensitive subjects with an air of humility. I do not claim to be one of these. I know that if I began to approach some of these weighty topics I might seem arrogant. So I usually avoid them; opting to find stimulation through simpler things. What is the point of all of that heavy thinking anyhow? Many people lead pleasant lives without even beginning to ponder the whys and the hows of life. Many people aren't activists; they are just people trying to live. If the problem arises they will think about it then and not before.
Yet, it is good to exercise the mind. But, at this stage in my life, I will opt out and work on the more sensible things like how to get a job, how to teach effectively, and how to spend money. Life requires that we get our heads out of the clouds every one in a while and do what has to be done.
My next goal should probably be to stop hating the people who think deeply in order to impress or use a tone of voice that is overly-confident. They are people too and I should probably just get back to more important things.
They concern me not,
URBwes
This type of thought is rampant in the intellectual world that I have gained access to via my recent four year journey into academia. I will continue to be surrounded by these people through teaching and from the very fact that it is in this group that I find myself. Not all of the intellectual crowd suffers from this affliction of the mouth. Some people truly do know what they are talking about and approach these sensitive subjects with an air of humility. I do not claim to be one of these. I know that if I began to approach some of these weighty topics I might seem arrogant. So I usually avoid them; opting to find stimulation through simpler things. What is the point of all of that heavy thinking anyhow? Many people lead pleasant lives without even beginning to ponder the whys and the hows of life. Many people aren't activists; they are just people trying to live. If the problem arises they will think about it then and not before.
Yet, it is good to exercise the mind. But, at this stage in my life, I will opt out and work on the more sensible things like how to get a job, how to teach effectively, and how to spend money. Life requires that we get our heads out of the clouds every one in a while and do what has to be done.
My next goal should probably be to stop hating the people who think deeply in order to impress or use a tone of voice that is overly-confident. They are people too and I should probably just get back to more important things.
They concern me not,
URBwes
Friday, May 18, 2007
Well, it seemed like it would never happen; the end of college and the beginning of real life. It is my task to find a job and make money. I have to use my talents to make it in this world. I was listening to this song on Appalachian Journey called "Hard Times Come Again No More" and, while I suppose my problems are truly minimal in comparison to those of the homeless and starving, I am experiencing my own level of hard times. The song asks for these times to stop; they've been knocking on the door for too long. I feel my problems regarding this life transition have been looming large for a long time with no answer. I'm waiting for some sort of God intervention, but that may not be the way God has planned this time. So I'm hoping for an easy path, but I don't think that is how it will happen. There are too many things attached to "real life" and those stigmas are the hard part. What if I can't find a job? Get married? Buy a house?
What does the future have in store.
Matthew 6:34
Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
Kinda cheesy, but scripture has the truest answers right now and that is where my guidance lies.
What does the future have in store.
Matthew 6:34
Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
Kinda cheesy, but scripture has the truest answers right now and that is where my guidance lies.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Where pondering should be done
Pondering should be done in quiet.
Where one is solitary;
on a walk, in the dark,
far from the limelight's torridity .
Deep thought must be like a prayer.
It does not seek attention or accolade.
Instead it seeks the inner self;
probes the pitch that others might evade
Discussion should be done among honest folk;
friends who have weathered many a season.
Together they grasp in the dark
hoping to pull a pearl from the briny depths of reason
But beware
discussion with strangers brings fear;
not jumping from cliffs of prior knowledge
into the freedom of the mind's fathomless mere.
With strangers, how one fears the leap
recite old verse and plagarize,
Teaching classics to our naive peers
What pageantry just to prove we're wise!
We have begun showboating,
putting our intellects on display
it's a competition of minds;
a game our hearts were never meant to play.
Where one is solitary;
on a walk, in the dark,
far from the limelight's torridity .
Deep thought must be like a prayer.
It does not seek attention or accolade.
Instead it seeks the inner self;
probes the pitch that others might evade
Discussion should be done among honest folk;
friends who have weathered many a season.
Together they grasp in the dark
hoping to pull a pearl from the briny depths of reason
But beware
discussion with strangers brings fear;
not jumping from cliffs of prior knowledge
into the freedom of the mind's fathomless mere.
With strangers, how one fears the leap
recite old verse and plagarize,
Teaching classics to our naive peers
What pageantry just to prove we're wise!
We have begun showboating,
putting our intellects on display
it's a competition of minds;
a game our hearts were never meant to play.
Stop your talking!
Stop your talking!
I despise your loaded words,
your deep thoughts
and imagined philosopies.
Have not others come before you?
Others more learned, more verbose?
Yet you use discussion for your own gain,
causing your head to swell;
an unholy bastion of philosophic greed.
Your reason is a bitter drink,
I spit it out for it is distasteful.
You have tainted the waters of philosophy,
with your teaching you have spoiled it.
So do not come to me with your heavy thoughts,
Do not begin to lecture me with stolen concepts
The gods of thought stir in utter contempt
As you weave a web of flattery and self promotion.
I despise your loaded words,
your deep thoughts
and imagined philosopies.
Have not others come before you?
Others more learned, more verbose?
Yet you use discussion for your own gain,
causing your head to swell;
an unholy bastion of philosophic greed.
Your reason is a bitter drink,
I spit it out for it is distasteful.
You have tainted the waters of philosophy,
with your teaching you have spoiled it.
So do not come to me with your heavy thoughts,
Do not begin to lecture me with stolen concepts
The gods of thought stir in utter contempt
As you weave a web of flattery and self promotion.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Discontent with self identity
Who am I?
This is a question I find myself wondering. Often, it is in superficial things: am I a good person? Likable? Attractive? Unique? Talented? Who and what am I? How do others see me? What would they say defines who I am? Do they know much about those things that supposedly define me?
I feel that most people would probably refer to music, playing the bass, and teaching to who I am, but most of them know so little about these things. If that is who I am, then who knows me? I think God sees it in much the same way. We know some of the things that define God: love, justice, grace, mercy, omnipotence, but what do we know about these things? How do we see these things played out in the history of God? How does he view these things? It is knowing these things that define God that we can begin to know God.
Back to my point. Freshman year I had a friend here, Adam, who loved jazz and played well. We would talk about jazz and music and philosophy during lunch, often to the exclusion of others. Yet, that didn't matter because I had a friend who knew me. He understood the things that define me and knew how they played a role in my life. Not only that, he sought to find out more of who I was in those things.
Now, I don't have a friend like that. My friends see jazz and bass and education as foreign. They steer clear of them and the best conversations I have are about the weather or homework (the college version of the weather in conversation). Now, I know that I do the same to my friends, but it is becuase I don't know much about their things. Maybe I should seek out their defining characteristics. or maybe I should find new friends. I just don't see that happening. I do love my friends; they try to connect even though it doesn't succeed. Once again, with no clear cut answer, I go to bed. Perhaps I'll actually fall asleep quickly this time.
This is a question I find myself wondering. Often, it is in superficial things: am I a good person? Likable? Attractive? Unique? Talented? Who and what am I? How do others see me? What would they say defines who I am? Do they know much about those things that supposedly define me?
I feel that most people would probably refer to music, playing the bass, and teaching to who I am, but most of them know so little about these things. If that is who I am, then who knows me? I think God sees it in much the same way. We know some of the things that define God: love, justice, grace, mercy, omnipotence, but what do we know about these things? How do we see these things played out in the history of God? How does he view these things? It is knowing these things that define God that we can begin to know God.
Back to my point. Freshman year I had a friend here, Adam, who loved jazz and played well. We would talk about jazz and music and philosophy during lunch, often to the exclusion of others. Yet, that didn't matter because I had a friend who knew me. He understood the things that define me and knew how they played a role in my life. Not only that, he sought to find out more of who I was in those things.
Now, I don't have a friend like that. My friends see jazz and bass and education as foreign. They steer clear of them and the best conversations I have are about the weather or homework (the college version of the weather in conversation). Now, I know that I do the same to my friends, but it is becuase I don't know much about their things. Maybe I should seek out their defining characteristics. or maybe I should find new friends. I just don't see that happening. I do love my friends; they try to connect even though it doesn't succeed. Once again, with no clear cut answer, I go to bed. Perhaps I'll actually fall asleep quickly this time.
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