He isn't.
Stop acting like he is.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Christian Cliches That Need to End II: Saying "Its God's Will" As A Reason To Break Up
The names in this little play have been changed to protect the innocent (and not so innocent-it would seem). Genders can be reversed depending on circumstances.
[in the living room of some non descript house, there is probably a Bible on a shelf nearby, very close to a collection of the Left Behind Series.]
Gwendalyn: We need to talk...
Fernando: ... Um... okay. We have been talking for like the last hour and a half. But I suppose you mean we need to talk about something other than how disappointing the last season of Lost was or the weird customers I talked to at work today.
Gwendalyn: Yeah.
Fernando: Okay. Let's hear it.
Gwendalyn: I've been thinking...
Fernando: [looks to ground, shoulders sink low, all hope is lost] Okay...
Gwendalyn: I'm just not so sure about... us... You know?
Fernando: We've been hanging out for the last hour. You couldn't have brought this up any sooner?
Gwendalyn: Sorry.
Fernando: You've been feeling this way for a while?
Gwendalyn: You must have too.
Fernando: No!
Gwendalyn: I just don't have any peace about us anymore. I've been praying about it and getting advice from friends.
Fernando: Like who?
Gwendalyn: Laquisha.
Fernando: You mean your over possessive friend who is always jealous whenever we hang out without her? That Laquisha?
Gwendalyn: Yeah! Her! Well I just don't think this relationship is God's will for our lives. I don't think we're supposed to be together.
Fernando: Funny God is only filling you in on this, you'd think he'd tell me too.
[awkward silence. gaze is averted by each individual]
Gwendalyn: I'm really sorry. I don't want to hurt you but...
[sound of vibrating phone]
Oh, its Laquisha... she is having a problem with her equally possessive, overly critical, emotionally unstable new boyfriend. I have to go. Bye.
[scene]
If you're not one of those strange people (yes, you are strange!) who married the first person who agreed to go on a date with you then you have probably had this conversation in some varying degree, whether you are the unsuspecting victim or the naive antagonist. If you have never been directly involved chances are you know someone who has (in my case I've know about 50 someones who have) and have gotten to hear the tirade that follows. This is the most common line in Christendom... I mean Christianity, when breaking up with someone and it needs to stop now!
Here is the thing about using this line on an unsuspecting boyfriend or girlfriend, it's the ultimate trump card. It cannot be beaten. It is like double-dog-daring someone, you can't go any further than that.* If someone you're dating tells you it's no longer God's will for your relationship to continue you have no course for debate. Because what you are now debating is the validity of the will of God in your own life. How do you go against the will of God? How do you fight for the relationship when so much stands against you? It's impossible. You really have no other option than to give in and accept what seems to now be inevitable. Because by fighting the proposition of the break up you're no longer fighting the person, nor are you fighting for your relationship, you're fighting against the forces of the universe (well, not literally, but this is the inevitable conclusion of this reason for breaking up).
There may be some truth to the fact that God does not desire for you to be together. I honestly don't know how that whole thing works and I am not going to pretend to**. But I am pretty confident that God makes that desire clear through varying means to show you you're not supposed to be together (i.e. you're lives going in different directions, or your personalities are too different, or the person chews their food too loud, or your parents hate them, or their bizarre fondness for The Incredible Hulk, or because they write an obnoxious blog, etc). Perhaps, out of respect for the break-y you can give those as reasons for breaking up. You risk hurting the other person but at least it is constructive criticism, which is painful but helpful.
*Some people will argue for the existence of a triple-dog-dare, those people are stupid and are not respecters of the institution of the dare.
**You're welcome.
[in the living room of some non descript house, there is probably a Bible on a shelf nearby, very close to a collection of the Left Behind Series.]
Gwendalyn: We need to talk...
Fernando: ... Um... okay. We have been talking for like the last hour and a half. But I suppose you mean we need to talk about something other than how disappointing the last season of Lost was or the weird customers I talked to at work today.
Gwendalyn: Yeah.
Fernando: Okay. Let's hear it.
Gwendalyn: I've been thinking...
Fernando: [looks to ground, shoulders sink low, all hope is lost] Okay...
Gwendalyn: I'm just not so sure about... us... You know?
Fernando: We've been hanging out for the last hour. You couldn't have brought this up any sooner?
Gwendalyn: Sorry.
Fernando: You've been feeling this way for a while?
Gwendalyn: You must have too.
Fernando: No!
Gwendalyn: I just don't have any peace about us anymore. I've been praying about it and getting advice from friends.
Fernando: Like who?
Gwendalyn: Laquisha.
Fernando: You mean your over possessive friend who is always jealous whenever we hang out without her? That Laquisha?
Gwendalyn: Yeah! Her! Well I just don't think this relationship is God's will for our lives. I don't think we're supposed to be together.
Fernando: Funny God is only filling you in on this, you'd think he'd tell me too.
[awkward silence. gaze is averted by each individual]
Gwendalyn: I'm really sorry. I don't want to hurt you but...
[sound of vibrating phone]
Oh, its Laquisha... she is having a problem with her equally possessive, overly critical, emotionally unstable new boyfriend. I have to go. Bye.
[scene]
If you're not one of those strange people (yes, you are strange!) who married the first person who agreed to go on a date with you then you have probably had this conversation in some varying degree, whether you are the unsuspecting victim or the naive antagonist. If you have never been directly involved chances are you know someone who has (in my case I've know about 50 someones who have) and have gotten to hear the tirade that follows. This is the most common line in Christendom... I mean Christianity, when breaking up with someone and it needs to stop now!
Here is the thing about using this line on an unsuspecting boyfriend or girlfriend, it's the ultimate trump card. It cannot be beaten. It is like double-dog-daring someone, you can't go any further than that.* If someone you're dating tells you it's no longer God's will for your relationship to continue you have no course for debate. Because what you are now debating is the validity of the will of God in your own life. How do you go against the will of God? How do you fight for the relationship when so much stands against you? It's impossible. You really have no other option than to give in and accept what seems to now be inevitable. Because by fighting the proposition of the break up you're no longer fighting the person, nor are you fighting for your relationship, you're fighting against the forces of the universe (well, not literally, but this is the inevitable conclusion of this reason for breaking up).
There may be some truth to the fact that God does not desire for you to be together. I honestly don't know how that whole thing works and I am not going to pretend to**. But I am pretty confident that God makes that desire clear through varying means to show you you're not supposed to be together (i.e. you're lives going in different directions, or your personalities are too different, or the person chews their food too loud, or your parents hate them, or their bizarre fondness for The Incredible Hulk, or because they write an obnoxious blog, etc). Perhaps, out of respect for the break-y you can give those as reasons for breaking up. You risk hurting the other person but at least it is constructive criticism, which is painful but helpful.
*Some people will argue for the existence of a triple-dog-dare, those people are stupid and are not respecters of the institution of the dare.
**You're welcome.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Christian Cliches That Need to End I: Using the Word Christendom in place of Christians or Christianity
You've probably heard this term used by a younger (or trying to seem younger; we call these people "progressive") pastor or Christian leader. The goal in using this word is to sound more intellectual or historical, but in actuality it accomplishes neither.
Christendom (pronounced with the "t" silent) is used by these individuals as a more intellectual alternative to the word Christianity. They say things like "We in Christendom need to do blah blah blah," or "if those of us in Christendom don't begin doing such and such" etc. The word was never meant to be the thinking man's synonym to Christianity, In fact the use of the word denotes different ideas all together.
Christendom, throughout history, has had two meanings that need to be distinguished so this mistake can stop being made:
1) Christendom refers to all united believers from the three religious sects that confess Christ as Lord and savior: Roman Catholics, Greek Orthodox, and Protestants. This really has no Spiritual connotations at all. It merely addresses the three entities as one. In the sixteenth century when the Turks were moving west into western Europe all of Christendom had to be united to defend their land. This is not a spiritual word, and it does not mean an ecumenical union, it is meant to differentiate one group of people (Europeans who grew up under Biblical teachings) from another (Muslims who posed a military threat or Jews who denied the teachings of Christ as canonical).
From my experience most speakers using this word are not considering all of Christendom when they use it. If you aren't even aware that the Greek Orthodox believers exist (much less what they believe or how they are distinct from the other branches of Christendom or why they branched off in the first place) you probably shouldn't use that word.
2) Christendom also refers to a nation specifically guided under Christian principles by professing* Christians who believe themselves to be doing the Lord's work throughout the world. It is a government institution. When speaking about Christendom you are talking about Rome under the leadership of Constantine in the fourth century, not a body of believers who are united by faith throughout generations. Christendom can also refer to the Holy Roman Empire of the middle ages, where the ruler was connected closely with the Pope, often doing the will of the Roman Catholic Church (loosely speaking the HRE provided the RCC with an unofficial military) and many European countries (such as Denmark) up until the end of the nineteenth century when Neitzsche's, Freud's, Kante's (et al) teachings dominated scholastic thinking. That's why the use of the word can be dangerous, Christendom carries with it baggage of military conquest more than it does the spirit of the teachings of Christ**.
Constantine was convinced he was helped in uniting all of Rome (through many battles with three different armies-each ruling a section of Rome at the time) by Christ. When engaging with the other potential rulers of Rome he claimed to see a sign in the sky that said "by this sign conquer" and then he saw either (I've never been sure of which one for sure, different historians have said different things) a cross or the chi-rho (the first two Greek letters in the word Christ, basically a P and an X where the P stems out of the top of the X. You can see this tattooed on a lot of "hip" kids who work at coffee shops and such, to my knowledge none of them have been too aware of what it means or the fact that it is connected with the military conquest of Rome in the early fourth century). The chi-rho became Constantine's emblem that he placed on shields and... pretty much everything. And he won! So then he claimed to become a Christian and made Christianity not only legal*** but mandatory. The number of Christians under Roman rule skyrocketed because to be Roman meant you were Christian. This decreased Christian persecution exponentially but also diluted the Christian institution, rather than being filled with sincere believers who followed Christ at the risk of death it was filled with true believers and those who followed Christ because it was the (for lack of a better word) trendy thing to do. Christendom in this sense (and Constantine's rule in general) was both positive and negative.
I won't deny it, Christendom is a cool word, it sounds cool (especially since you make the "t" silent, for some reason that just seems more intellectual) and its even fun to type out here. But that doesn't mean it can be thrown around to mean something it doesn't. For the sake of simplicity and the literary assumption that words should be used with their proper meaning in mind, just say Christianity or Christians, and stop trying to force Christendom into your daily vocabulary, unless you're an historian (or a nerd like me) it doesn't need to be there.
*I say professing because it's up for considerable debate the validity of their confession of faith.
**For more on how awful us Christians were in the crusades see Ridley Scott's Kingdom of Heaven or Robin Hood, which do a fine job making the audience feel guilty for having ancestors who were from Europe in the middle ages.
*** up to this point you could be killed, or imprisoned, or at least moderately harassed for being a follower of Christ. This was because if you were a Christian you refused to bow to Roman gods or follow the gods' yearly celebratory/sacrificial calendar. Therefore you could greatly anger the gods and call their wrath down upon everyone around you. If there was a bad crop or no rain it was the Christian's fault. Under their religious system Christians angered the gods and put everyone else's lives at risk.
Christendom (pronounced with the "t" silent) is used by these individuals as a more intellectual alternative to the word Christianity. They say things like "We in Christendom need to do blah blah blah," or "if those of us in Christendom don't begin doing such and such" etc. The word was never meant to be the thinking man's synonym to Christianity, In fact the use of the word denotes different ideas all together.
Christendom, throughout history, has had two meanings that need to be distinguished so this mistake can stop being made:
1) Christendom refers to all united believers from the three religious sects that confess Christ as Lord and savior: Roman Catholics, Greek Orthodox, and Protestants. This really has no Spiritual connotations at all. It merely addresses the three entities as one. In the sixteenth century when the Turks were moving west into western Europe all of Christendom had to be united to defend their land. This is not a spiritual word, and it does not mean an ecumenical union, it is meant to differentiate one group of people (Europeans who grew up under Biblical teachings) from another (Muslims who posed a military threat or Jews who denied the teachings of Christ as canonical).
From my experience most speakers using this word are not considering all of Christendom when they use it. If you aren't even aware that the Greek Orthodox believers exist (much less what they believe or how they are distinct from the other branches of Christendom or why they branched off in the first place) you probably shouldn't use that word.
2) Christendom also refers to a nation specifically guided under Christian principles by professing* Christians who believe themselves to be doing the Lord's work throughout the world. It is a government institution. When speaking about Christendom you are talking about Rome under the leadership of Constantine in the fourth century, not a body of believers who are united by faith throughout generations. Christendom can also refer to the Holy Roman Empire of the middle ages, where the ruler was connected closely with the Pope, often doing the will of the Roman Catholic Church (loosely speaking the HRE provided the RCC with an unofficial military) and many European countries (such as Denmark) up until the end of the nineteenth century when Neitzsche's, Freud's, Kante's (et al) teachings dominated scholastic thinking. That's why the use of the word can be dangerous, Christendom carries with it baggage of military conquest more than it does the spirit of the teachings of Christ**.
Constantine was convinced he was helped in uniting all of Rome (through many battles with three different armies-each ruling a section of Rome at the time) by Christ. When engaging with the other potential rulers of Rome he claimed to see a sign in the sky that said "by this sign conquer" and then he saw either (I've never been sure of which one for sure, different historians have said different things) a cross or the chi-rho (the first two Greek letters in the word Christ, basically a P and an X where the P stems out of the top of the X. You can see this tattooed on a lot of "hip" kids who work at coffee shops and such, to my knowledge none of them have been too aware of what it means or the fact that it is connected with the military conquest of Rome in the early fourth century). The chi-rho became Constantine's emblem that he placed on shields and... pretty much everything. And he won! So then he claimed to become a Christian and made Christianity not only legal*** but mandatory. The number of Christians under Roman rule skyrocketed because to be Roman meant you were Christian. This decreased Christian persecution exponentially but also diluted the Christian institution, rather than being filled with sincere believers who followed Christ at the risk of death it was filled with true believers and those who followed Christ because it was the (for lack of a better word) trendy thing to do. Christendom in this sense (and Constantine's rule in general) was both positive and negative.
I won't deny it, Christendom is a cool word, it sounds cool (especially since you make the "t" silent, for some reason that just seems more intellectual) and its even fun to type out here. But that doesn't mean it can be thrown around to mean something it doesn't. For the sake of simplicity and the literary assumption that words should be used with their proper meaning in mind, just say Christianity or Christians, and stop trying to force Christendom into your daily vocabulary, unless you're an historian (or a nerd like me) it doesn't need to be there.
*I say professing because it's up for considerable debate the validity of their confession of faith.
**For more on how awful us Christians were in the crusades see Ridley Scott's Kingdom of Heaven or Robin Hood, which do a fine job making the audience feel guilty for having ancestors who were from Europe in the middle ages.
*** up to this point you could be killed, or imprisoned, or at least moderately harassed for being a follower of Christ. This was because if you were a Christian you refused to bow to Roman gods or follow the gods' yearly celebratory/sacrificial calendar. Therefore you could greatly anger the gods and call their wrath down upon everyone around you. If there was a bad crop or no rain it was the Christian's fault. Under their religious system Christians angered the gods and put everyone else's lives at risk.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
In Defense of Immaturity (or "how childishness can save us all")
Yesterday was one of those days...
You take a car into the shop because some light flashed on. Three hours later what you hoped was a leak of a somethingorother turns out to be a few hundred bucks drained into a automobile that has shown a rampant proclivity for disappointing you recently at every conceivable turn.
My minivan was supposed to be faithful... and she broke my heart yet again.
All this news came to me right as I was starting my shift at work. I was crestfallen. Add to that a half hour where my station was virtually unseatable and you have the makings of an Eeyore from Whinny the Pooh kind of day ("I guess I'll never have any money again..."). This was going to be a day where money bled out, but there wasn't going to be much coming back in.
Then my manager tells me she is giving me a party of twelve. Cool. As long as they don't have tattoos on their necks (like my party from the other night had) I should get a half decent tip from a big party.
No one comes....
The table is flagged and ready to go, but no one comes. The desolate wasteland that is my station continues to be barren.
Then noise. I look to the front to see ten young girls, aged ten... maybe 12, I'm horrible at approximating peoples' ages, are in the lobby with matching green t-shirts (an unforgivable neon green that would be considered even a bit obtuse at a party that featured black-lights), tiaras, and those strange faux scarf things that look to be made from the feathers of brightly colored alien birds (said feathers covered the floor upon their entrance and exit). Happy doesn't do it justice. Even standing the distance of the restaurant away from the girls I could see that they were beaming. Joy emitted from their eyes as they talked at high speeds over one another. Two women stood amongst them, cautious smiles on their faces as they looked over the ten girls, never sure what to expect or how to respond to any of the indecipherable noise they were being bathed in.
"Lord help me..." The words fell from my lips as the reality set in that this could be none other than the party I had been waiting for. Laughter soon followed as I wondered out loud how I was going to handle this table under the circumstances. I knew I could handle it, I also knew that if I did handle it then I would be laughed at by each of my coworkers and mocked openly as I shamelessly schmoozed them. A man has to make his money so I rallied myself and prepared for the onslaught of jokes that would come my way as the one male server took care of a party of twelve females.
Truthfully I also knew there was a good chance this would be the most fun I would have at work all week. I like kids and rarely get a chance to have them in my station, my restaurant generally attracts people a bit north of twelve, so kids (read: people who aren't enjoying their retirement) are a good twist to the day (not that I don't like retirees, its just nice having some variety). On a cerebral level I appreciate children for all the things that differentiate them from adults, on a sophomoric level that I am not too ashamed to indulge in I just think being childlike is fun and who better to be immature with than those who have not yet reached a capacity for maturity.
So I set to work. They were the winners of a girl-scout cookie selling competition. They won a limo ride, free lunch, and they were all going to get their nails did. I gave each of them new names: T.L.D., Aristotle, Gloves, Shades, Tiara, Soso, Rebel, Channy, Bling, and Rose. Each name was given for a specific reason, some required long explanations others were pretty simple (Shades because she wore sunglasses inside... that kind of thing). We talked about selling cookies, and joked about their names. They called me Tyty, which I allowed in this special circumstance. I talked to the moms, giving my emotional support to them for their long day (when I told them I was taking 20 kids to Magic Mountain the next day they began to feel less sorry for themselves and were just glad they weren't me).
The whole thing was hilarious and was easily the most fun I will have with a table this month, maybe year. At the end of the meal they asked me to take a bunch of pictures with them (something I have never done with sober guests in my seven year career of waiting tables) and they all said "thank you Tyty" loud enough for the whole back half of the restaurant to hear it. Of course I blushed and every girl I work with heard it and started laughing.
Mostly what followed was jokes and comments about the experience. People seemed shocked that I could have enjoyed myself that much. The truth is I tried to underplay how much fun I had to avoid being teased further.
But I like being around kids. I like making them laugh, teaching them, encouraging them, exposing myself to their joy that is unhindered by cynicism and self doubt, attempting to see the world as something big and exciting as they do. I like investing into them, but selfishly I gain something from time spent with them. Like some sort of adolescent osmosis I absorb some of their unrelenting optimism which balances with my own adult, all too cynical perspective on life.
I like being around them because I am jealous of them. I wish I could see the world like they do, I wish I could hope and love as unquestionably as they are able to. I wish with all my heart I could enjoy a limo ride around a silly town like Temecula without the question entering into my mind of "is this silly?" or "what do people think of me?" or "I wonder how much this next car repair will cost me." I want to enjoy each moment (or at least some moments) like children do, fully immersed in the experience.
The world of adults is great. I am not wishing to regress back to what I once was and I do not resent being an adult, that is a boring conversation I no longer have patience for. We are adults and we must exist in this world and not waste it pining over what isn't a reality. I like being an adult, taking care of myself, experiencing new things, accomplishing difficult tasks, finding success (in some sense or another), learning, questioning, frying chicken. I like my life. But I think their is a perspective youth have that we need to embrace and find joy in, letting go of social constraints and enjoying life for what it is, not being inhibited about outsider's judgments or ridicule. I don't want to be a child again, but I do want to take the best parts of childhood into adulthood with me, rather than leaving it all behind as some feel they must to successfully venture into the deeper waters. Spending time with kids reminds us of those simple things.
For a bit of contrast to this idea, when I was with finished getting the party in order I told the hosts that I was ready for another table and they could start seating the rest of my section. The host immediately brought a couple back to my table, and that couple immediately demanded they be sat somewhere else where the troublesome sound of kids having fun wouldn't disturb their lunch. The host explained that to me and I felt totally fine with it. I hope to be know at my restaurant as the guy who will take any table but I was fine with not having to take care of a table who couldn't enjoying being around kids who were getting to be kids. A room full of other adults seemed to function just fine. I'd rather be like those kids than like those two adults who were without patience for childishness. I did love the next couple the host brought over who spend the better part of their lunch laughing at the girls as they interacted and at me as I tried having some semblance of a functioning conversation with them.
Children aren't just the future, they are the marker to remind us of where we came from, before politics, debt, ambition, compromise, assimilation, disappointment, worry, and cynicism tried choking us out. Children need our protection, guidance, and care. But they have just as much to offer us; none of it will make us richer, cooler, more beautiful, or successful, but it will make life a lot more fun to live. And we can all use some more of that.
Thanks again to:
T.L.D.- Troupe Leader's Daughter, because she was, in fact, the daughter of the troupe leader.
Aristotle- The quietest of the girls, I thought perhaps she was more of a deep thinker.
Gloves- She had these gloves on... well they looked more like bright pink socks with finger holes cut out in them. Not all that creative but it worked.
Shades- She wore sunglasses inside, nothing too profound here.
Tiara- She had the biggest tiara on her head and its the first word that sprang to mind.
Soso- named Sophia, I was grasping at straws.
Rebel- The other girls all ordered rootbeer or fruit punch, always the individual she ordered Coke (I thought about naming her Kierkegaard or The Solitary Individual, but that would require too much explanation and out me as a totally unforgivable nerd... and so it goes).
Channy- Her name was Chandler. Again, grasping at straws.
Bling- She had a lot of fake jewelry on.
Rose- There was a giant rose on her head, this wasn't rocket science people!
You take a car into the shop because some light flashed on. Three hours later what you hoped was a leak of a somethingorother turns out to be a few hundred bucks drained into a automobile that has shown a rampant proclivity for disappointing you recently at every conceivable turn.
My minivan was supposed to be faithful... and she broke my heart yet again.
All this news came to me right as I was starting my shift at work. I was crestfallen. Add to that a half hour where my station was virtually unseatable and you have the makings of an Eeyore from Whinny the Pooh kind of day ("I guess I'll never have any money again..."). This was going to be a day where money bled out, but there wasn't going to be much coming back in.
Then my manager tells me she is giving me a party of twelve. Cool. As long as they don't have tattoos on their necks (like my party from the other night had) I should get a half decent tip from a big party.
No one comes....
The table is flagged and ready to go, but no one comes. The desolate wasteland that is my station continues to be barren.
Then noise. I look to the front to see ten young girls, aged ten... maybe 12, I'm horrible at approximating peoples' ages, are in the lobby with matching green t-shirts (an unforgivable neon green that would be considered even a bit obtuse at a party that featured black-lights), tiaras, and those strange faux scarf things that look to be made from the feathers of brightly colored alien birds (said feathers covered the floor upon their entrance and exit). Happy doesn't do it justice. Even standing the distance of the restaurant away from the girls I could see that they were beaming. Joy emitted from their eyes as they talked at high speeds over one another. Two women stood amongst them, cautious smiles on their faces as they looked over the ten girls, never sure what to expect or how to respond to any of the indecipherable noise they were being bathed in.
"Lord help me..." The words fell from my lips as the reality set in that this could be none other than the party I had been waiting for. Laughter soon followed as I wondered out loud how I was going to handle this table under the circumstances. I knew I could handle it, I also knew that if I did handle it then I would be laughed at by each of my coworkers and mocked openly as I shamelessly schmoozed them. A man has to make his money so I rallied myself and prepared for the onslaught of jokes that would come my way as the one male server took care of a party of twelve females.
Truthfully I also knew there was a good chance this would be the most fun I would have at work all week. I like kids and rarely get a chance to have them in my station, my restaurant generally attracts people a bit north of twelve, so kids (read: people who aren't enjoying their retirement) are a good twist to the day (not that I don't like retirees, its just nice having some variety). On a cerebral level I appreciate children for all the things that differentiate them from adults, on a sophomoric level that I am not too ashamed to indulge in I just think being childlike is fun and who better to be immature with than those who have not yet reached a capacity for maturity.
So I set to work. They were the winners of a girl-scout cookie selling competition. They won a limo ride, free lunch, and they were all going to get their nails did. I gave each of them new names: T.L.D., Aristotle, Gloves, Shades, Tiara, Soso, Rebel, Channy, Bling, and Rose. Each name was given for a specific reason, some required long explanations others were pretty simple (Shades because she wore sunglasses inside... that kind of thing). We talked about selling cookies, and joked about their names. They called me Tyty, which I allowed in this special circumstance. I talked to the moms, giving my emotional support to them for their long day (when I told them I was taking 20 kids to Magic Mountain the next day they began to feel less sorry for themselves and were just glad they weren't me).
The whole thing was hilarious and was easily the most fun I will have with a table this month, maybe year. At the end of the meal they asked me to take a bunch of pictures with them (something I have never done with sober guests in my seven year career of waiting tables) and they all said "thank you Tyty" loud enough for the whole back half of the restaurant to hear it. Of course I blushed and every girl I work with heard it and started laughing.
Mostly what followed was jokes and comments about the experience. People seemed shocked that I could have enjoyed myself that much. The truth is I tried to underplay how much fun I had to avoid being teased further.
But I like being around kids. I like making them laugh, teaching them, encouraging them, exposing myself to their joy that is unhindered by cynicism and self doubt, attempting to see the world as something big and exciting as they do. I like investing into them, but selfishly I gain something from time spent with them. Like some sort of adolescent osmosis I absorb some of their unrelenting optimism which balances with my own adult, all too cynical perspective on life.
I like being around them because I am jealous of them. I wish I could see the world like they do, I wish I could hope and love as unquestionably as they are able to. I wish with all my heart I could enjoy a limo ride around a silly town like Temecula without the question entering into my mind of "is this silly?" or "what do people think of me?" or "I wonder how much this next car repair will cost me." I want to enjoy each moment (or at least some moments) like children do, fully immersed in the experience.
The world of adults is great. I am not wishing to regress back to what I once was and I do not resent being an adult, that is a boring conversation I no longer have patience for. We are adults and we must exist in this world and not waste it pining over what isn't a reality. I like being an adult, taking care of myself, experiencing new things, accomplishing difficult tasks, finding success (in some sense or another), learning, questioning, frying chicken. I like my life. But I think their is a perspective youth have that we need to embrace and find joy in, letting go of social constraints and enjoying life for what it is, not being inhibited about outsider's judgments or ridicule. I don't want to be a child again, but I do want to take the best parts of childhood into adulthood with me, rather than leaving it all behind as some feel they must to successfully venture into the deeper waters. Spending time with kids reminds us of those simple things.
For a bit of contrast to this idea, when I was with finished getting the party in order I told the hosts that I was ready for another table and they could start seating the rest of my section. The host immediately brought a couple back to my table, and that couple immediately demanded they be sat somewhere else where the troublesome sound of kids having fun wouldn't disturb their lunch. The host explained that to me and I felt totally fine with it. I hope to be know at my restaurant as the guy who will take any table but I was fine with not having to take care of a table who couldn't enjoying being around kids who were getting to be kids. A room full of other adults seemed to function just fine. I'd rather be like those kids than like those two adults who were without patience for childishness. I did love the next couple the host brought over who spend the better part of their lunch laughing at the girls as they interacted and at me as I tried having some semblance of a functioning conversation with them.
Children aren't just the future, they are the marker to remind us of where we came from, before politics, debt, ambition, compromise, assimilation, disappointment, worry, and cynicism tried choking us out. Children need our protection, guidance, and care. But they have just as much to offer us; none of it will make us richer, cooler, more beautiful, or successful, but it will make life a lot more fun to live. And we can all use some more of that.
Thanks again to:
T.L.D.- Troupe Leader's Daughter, because she was, in fact, the daughter of the troupe leader.
Aristotle- The quietest of the girls, I thought perhaps she was more of a deep thinker.
Gloves- She had these gloves on... well they looked more like bright pink socks with finger holes cut out in them. Not all that creative but it worked.
Shades- She wore sunglasses inside, nothing too profound here.
Tiara- She had the biggest tiara on her head and its the first word that sprang to mind.
Soso- named Sophia, I was grasping at straws.
Rebel- The other girls all ordered rootbeer or fruit punch, always the individual she ordered Coke (I thought about naming her Kierkegaard or The Solitary Individual, but that would require too much explanation and out me as a totally unforgivable nerd... and so it goes).
Channy- Her name was Chandler. Again, grasping at straws.
Bling- She had a lot of fake jewelry on.
Rose- There was a giant rose on her head, this wasn't rocket science people!
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
$30,000 Well Spent Part 1 (My First College Romance)
Here is something a little different... I have ideas for a few books I would like to write, each a little different from the others. One is a reflection on the Christian college experience, and the title of the book ("30,000 Well Spent") is taken from the title of a poem I wrote during my first semester at college (you can find it somewhere on this blog). Here is an idea for the start of this hypothetical book, introducing the first time I stepped foot on campus. For this book concept I will hopefully keep writing ideas on here, whilest I keep you in the dark on other book ideas... because, lets be honest, they may never happen and thats just embarrassing if I talk up all these ideas and never actually do any of them. Enjoy.
Her eyes were a green labyrinth I was utterly prepared to be lost in. Her brown hair danced delicately in the Chicago summer wind. Her smile inspired my back to straighten proudly despite the two fifty pound bags I dragged behind me. This was it, my first moment on campus and I met the woman of my dreams, the girl who's voice could calm the chaos stirring in my soul.
Fortunately my parents were kind enough to lag behind as I made my entrance onto campus and into the consciousness of my new love. They wanted to share with me this monumental moment of walking onto campus for the first time, but they gave me space to get some barring on my new surroundings. They were not going to get in my way during my great moment of truth: the first words I would utter to my dream girl.
Not sure what to say I opened my mouth all the same, trusting on God's grace and my own instinct to guild me in the most important conversation of my short life. Words began to press themselves over my tongue making their way over my lips when suddenly my green eyed angel spoke.
"Hi." Music to rival the holy choir.
"Hey." I cleverly retorted, hoping that in one small word my California coolness would dazzle this quaint Midwesterner.
"Can you sing?" This chick is forward! We've only known each other for a few seconds and already she is enquiring about the deeper parts of my soul. She must be a poet. Can I sing?... Can I sing?!...
"No. I'm not much of a singer." If she is not impressed by my humility then she is not the woman I fell in love with.
"Come on, you can sing a little." She sees in me more potential than I even see in myself. She will be my muse.
"Trust me; the whole world is better off if no one has to hear me sing." In that last word finality invaded our endless love. Her vacuous green eyes became stone black. Her soul receded, refusing to bear itself any longer to this musical Neanderthal. I looked to my right to see where my lost love came from. The table read "choir" in bold letters. She was a recruiter. Her eyes swore she loved me but they were filled with empty flattery and lies.
We never spoke again.
Her eyes were a green labyrinth I was utterly prepared to be lost in. Her brown hair danced delicately in the Chicago summer wind. Her smile inspired my back to straighten proudly despite the two fifty pound bags I dragged behind me. This was it, my first moment on campus and I met the woman of my dreams, the girl who's voice could calm the chaos stirring in my soul.
Fortunately my parents were kind enough to lag behind as I made my entrance onto campus and into the consciousness of my new love. They wanted to share with me this monumental moment of walking onto campus for the first time, but they gave me space to get some barring on my new surroundings. They were not going to get in my way during my great moment of truth: the first words I would utter to my dream girl.
Not sure what to say I opened my mouth all the same, trusting on God's grace and my own instinct to guild me in the most important conversation of my short life. Words began to press themselves over my tongue making their way over my lips when suddenly my green eyed angel spoke.
"Hi." Music to rival the holy choir.
"Hey." I cleverly retorted, hoping that in one small word my California coolness would dazzle this quaint Midwesterner.
"Can you sing?" This chick is forward! We've only known each other for a few seconds and already she is enquiring about the deeper parts of my soul. She must be a poet. Can I sing?... Can I sing?!...
"No. I'm not much of a singer." If she is not impressed by my humility then she is not the woman I fell in love with.
"Come on, you can sing a little." She sees in me more potential than I even see in myself. She will be my muse.
"Trust me; the whole world is better off if no one has to hear me sing." In that last word finality invaded our endless love. Her vacuous green eyes became stone black. Her soul receded, refusing to bear itself any longer to this musical Neanderthal. I looked to my right to see where my lost love came from. The table read "choir" in bold letters. She was a recruiter. Her eyes swore she loved me but they were filled with empty flattery and lies.
We never spoke again.
Reflections on Lost Part 1: Guarding Your Heart (or "Conviction loves company")
Even though the six members of my family live in three different time zones we still love doing stuff and sharing our lives together. So when my brother decided he would start watching Lost this December all of us decided to come along with him. My parents watched episode by episode, usually one a day. My sister watched as she was able. In the time I began watching Lost the Lord saw fit to give me an unusually large amount of time off from work so I was able to burn through episodes, loving every minute of it.
For the people who don't know Lost is a show designed to mess with the audiences' head. As I watched the first two seasons questions built up in my head, questions numbering in the hundreds. By the final episode of the second season only about two of my questions were answers and I had at least another fifty. The show thrives on mystery and providing explanations for those mysteries in ways the audience could never expect.
In starting to watch Lost I was conscious of the fact that I was over six years behind the times. I was one of the few who hadn't been wrapped up in the Lost mania up to this point. Many people in my life loved the show and discussed it, but up to the point of me actually getting interested in the show it was all just useless ramblings. Then all of a sudden I was into the show and all that rambling had meaning and could unlock secrets I was not yet prepared for.
To truly appreciate the show as it was intended I had to keep myself from hearing spoilers about later episodes. I had to experience each twist and turn as the original audience did. I had to keep myself uncorrupted. But corruption was everywhere. Discussions on Lost were all over the internet. All my friends at work loved talking about television shows they were watching and Lost was one of the most commonly discussed. I had to do my best to keep myself from learning too much too soon, thus ruining the surprises waiting for me.
One day when my friend was trying to text me spoilers about the show because they were too excited about it to not share it with me I fought passionately against them, begging them not to ruin anything for me. I would get to the point they were at soon enough, and we could talk about it then, but if they reveal this bit to me now they would rob me of the shock and joy they were experiencing. After explaining that to them, and threatening to not be their friend anymore, they relented and left to experience Lost with fresh eyes.
With the crisis averted I let out a victory cry (yeah, sometimes I talk to myself) "A man has got to guard his heart! That's right!" Then that stupid statement got me thinking... I had watched three seasons of lost in so many weeks and had managed to keep myself from having one moment or surprise ruined. I got to watch three seasons with the same shock and surprise as a person who watched each original episode.
How did that happen? Because I worked my butt of to make sure nothing was ruined. I was conscious of conversations at work, being sure to steer clear of anything that might corrupt my innocence. I resisted the urge to click on websites that talked about Lost (no matter how much I wanted to read about their thoughts on Locke or the black smoke or anything else). I didn't even tell anyone I was watching the show so they wouldn't ask questions that would lead to spoilers. I made a conscious decision and kept to it.
All those thoughts flooded my mind in an instant and I was convicted. My heart got heavy. I put more work into keeping myself pure in regard to Lost than I do with the rest of my life. Proverbs 4:23 tells me to guard my heart for it is the wellspring of life. I need to protect it from the corrupting influence of sin. But I haven't been too diligent in that. I've allowed myself to see, hear, and touch things of this world I had no business being a part of. Curiosity and sin led me to seek out things I was not yet ready for, it made me go after pleasures that were forbidden. While I knew how important it was to keep myself from the corrupting influence of sin I did it all the same. Part of me had resigned itself to believing that it wasn't possible to live in this world without getting a substantial amount of its dirt on you. Then this whole Lost thing happen and I thought maybe it is possible to keep oneself uncorrupted from the world. But I have to want it.
For the people who don't know Lost is a show designed to mess with the audiences' head. As I watched the first two seasons questions built up in my head, questions numbering in the hundreds. By the final episode of the second season only about two of my questions were answers and I had at least another fifty. The show thrives on mystery and providing explanations for those mysteries in ways the audience could never expect.
In starting to watch Lost I was conscious of the fact that I was over six years behind the times. I was one of the few who hadn't been wrapped up in the Lost mania up to this point. Many people in my life loved the show and discussed it, but up to the point of me actually getting interested in the show it was all just useless ramblings. Then all of a sudden I was into the show and all that rambling had meaning and could unlock secrets I was not yet prepared for.
To truly appreciate the show as it was intended I had to keep myself from hearing spoilers about later episodes. I had to experience each twist and turn as the original audience did. I had to keep myself uncorrupted. But corruption was everywhere. Discussions on Lost were all over the internet. All my friends at work loved talking about television shows they were watching and Lost was one of the most commonly discussed. I had to do my best to keep myself from learning too much too soon, thus ruining the surprises waiting for me.
One day when my friend was trying to text me spoilers about the show because they were too excited about it to not share it with me I fought passionately against them, begging them not to ruin anything for me. I would get to the point they were at soon enough, and we could talk about it then, but if they reveal this bit to me now they would rob me of the shock and joy they were experiencing. After explaining that to them, and threatening to not be their friend anymore, they relented and left to experience Lost with fresh eyes.
With the crisis averted I let out a victory cry (yeah, sometimes I talk to myself) "A man has got to guard his heart! That's right!" Then that stupid statement got me thinking... I had watched three seasons of lost in so many weeks and had managed to keep myself from having one moment or surprise ruined. I got to watch three seasons with the same shock and surprise as a person who watched each original episode.
How did that happen? Because I worked my butt of to make sure nothing was ruined. I was conscious of conversations at work, being sure to steer clear of anything that might corrupt my innocence. I resisted the urge to click on websites that talked about Lost (no matter how much I wanted to read about their thoughts on Locke or the black smoke or anything else). I didn't even tell anyone I was watching the show so they wouldn't ask questions that would lead to spoilers. I made a conscious decision and kept to it.
All those thoughts flooded my mind in an instant and I was convicted. My heart got heavy. I put more work into keeping myself pure in regard to Lost than I do with the rest of my life. Proverbs 4:23 tells me to guard my heart for it is the wellspring of life. I need to protect it from the corrupting influence of sin. But I haven't been too diligent in that. I've allowed myself to see, hear, and touch things of this world I had no business being a part of. Curiosity and sin led me to seek out things I was not yet ready for, it made me go after pleasures that were forbidden. While I knew how important it was to keep myself from the corrupting influence of sin I did it all the same. Part of me had resigned itself to believing that it wasn't possible to live in this world without getting a substantial amount of its dirt on you. Then this whole Lost thing happen and I thought maybe it is possible to keep oneself uncorrupted from the world. But I have to want it.
Well Meaning Promises (or "thus spake the grumpy old man part 1")
I'm twenty-five and single. I don't say that for you to feel bad for me. I don't need your pity, it won't make me any less single and it won't buy me food, so pity is useless. I've had a lot of people feel compelled to comfort me in my current state, sometimes that comfort is fished for, often it's not. And most of the time I have no idea where it comes from at all.
More often than not I'm told "don't worry, she is out there somewhere," or "God's got a great girl for you," or "if soandso can get a girl so can you," etc. It's not just about being single, I get this kind of comfort for a lot of things: "Don't worry, you will get a good job someday," "Someday you'll have a car that doesn't have a big dent in the back of it that people laugh at." Stuff like that. And I have to wonder: Where do these promises come from? How can you guarantee any of this?
Existentialism promised me life defined by pain and difficulty, broken up by moments of levity and joy that are to be cherished and never taken for granted. But make no mistake, in existentialism to live is to suffer. So sad!
The Bible makes several promises of the Lord caring for His own and never forsaking them, but those promises are made to provide comfort because we are also faced with the reality that to be a Christian we must take up our cross, be salt and light, forsake our old life with its passions and desires, seek truth, deny ourselves, face persecution, persevere through trials, etc. I am promised two things: 1) that to be a Christian in this life is to be at war with a world consumed by sin and rebelling against the God I serve, and 2) the Lord will always be with me to love and guide me through all of this (and more than that that this life is temporary, I wait for the joy of heaven that minimized all the trials in this world).
But nowhere do I find a promise that I will meet a beautiful girl and get married. Nowhere is there a mention that I will have a car that doesn't threaten to break down every couple of months. Nowhere am I promised a job that will help me save for a retirement (that is only good if I'm on this planet long enough to enjoy it) or will get me enough money to not have to have ramen noodles be a common part of my diet.
There was a girl I was seeing a while back and she had some things she was worried about. What she wanted to be told was that everything was going to be okay, that the problems would be taken care of and so she didn't need to worry. That might have been the right thing to say at the time, I don't know. But that isn't what I said, which might be the reason for why I said "I was seeing" rather than saying "I am seeing"... who's to say? All I could say was that no matter what happens the details are not in our hands anymore. What is done is done, but no matter what we will deal with it and take each challenge as it comes, trusting that the Lord is guiding our lives.
I deeply appreciate my friends and family trying to comfort me. But I have to keep reminding myself and others that even if I never have any of these things Jesus is still Lord, and someday I will be with Him in paradise. That is what I'm living for and that's the thought that helps me wake up in the morning. Certainly sometimes I wonder if there is a girl out there for me and what she might be doing at any particular moment, and sometimes I wonder what it would be like to own a car where the steering column doesn't sporadically rattle inexplicably. But my comfort is in who Christ is, not in what I have. Jesus is still Lord regardless of marital status or possessions. I pray that that would be what brings us joy, not temporal things.
More often than not I'm told "don't worry, she is out there somewhere," or "God's got a great girl for you," or "if soandso can get a girl so can you," etc. It's not just about being single, I get this kind of comfort for a lot of things: "Don't worry, you will get a good job someday," "Someday you'll have a car that doesn't have a big dent in the back of it that people laugh at." Stuff like that. And I have to wonder: Where do these promises come from? How can you guarantee any of this?
Existentialism promised me life defined by pain and difficulty, broken up by moments of levity and joy that are to be cherished and never taken for granted. But make no mistake, in existentialism to live is to suffer. So sad!
The Bible makes several promises of the Lord caring for His own and never forsaking them, but those promises are made to provide comfort because we are also faced with the reality that to be a Christian we must take up our cross, be salt and light, forsake our old life with its passions and desires, seek truth, deny ourselves, face persecution, persevere through trials, etc. I am promised two things: 1) that to be a Christian in this life is to be at war with a world consumed by sin and rebelling against the God I serve, and 2) the Lord will always be with me to love and guide me through all of this (and more than that that this life is temporary, I wait for the joy of heaven that minimized all the trials in this world).
But nowhere do I find a promise that I will meet a beautiful girl and get married. Nowhere is there a mention that I will have a car that doesn't threaten to break down every couple of months. Nowhere am I promised a job that will help me save for a retirement (that is only good if I'm on this planet long enough to enjoy it) or will get me enough money to not have to have ramen noodles be a common part of my diet.
There was a girl I was seeing a while back and she had some things she was worried about. What she wanted to be told was that everything was going to be okay, that the problems would be taken care of and so she didn't need to worry. That might have been the right thing to say at the time, I don't know. But that isn't what I said, which might be the reason for why I said "I was seeing" rather than saying "I am seeing"... who's to say? All I could say was that no matter what happens the details are not in our hands anymore. What is done is done, but no matter what we will deal with it and take each challenge as it comes, trusting that the Lord is guiding our lives.
I deeply appreciate my friends and family trying to comfort me. But I have to keep reminding myself and others that even if I never have any of these things Jesus is still Lord, and someday I will be with Him in paradise. That is what I'm living for and that's the thought that helps me wake up in the morning. Certainly sometimes I wonder if there is a girl out there for me and what she might be doing at any particular moment, and sometimes I wonder what it would be like to own a car where the steering column doesn't sporadically rattle inexplicably. But my comfort is in who Christ is, not in what I have. Jesus is still Lord regardless of marital status or possessions. I pray that that would be what brings us joy, not temporal things.
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