i dance in the grasses
i play in the fields
i run in the valleys
oh, this is all so beautiful
run, run, run
through the meadows
sleep in the grassy fields
the blades brush my feet
oh they tickle
this is perfect
"Oh God let it stay!"
the meadow
on the hill crest
there's a willow
a willow tree
so, so, so
lovely
hangs a single banana
yellow overpowered by every
beauty, touch, taste, smell, and passion
that this world can provide
oh, the wreckage
the carnage
the fire
inferno
oh, the flowers, grasses, meadows, hills
ashes, ashes its all ashes
"oh, God is there anything left?"
In the distance
a willow tree still stands as ash
but the single banana remains unharmed
oh wait, it opens
i hold my breath
inside
i see
oh!
Love!
*A poem I wrote years ago dedicated to my big sister, whom I love very much!
Monday, February 16, 2009
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Celebrities are People Too (so why not gossip about them like we do everyone else)
When I was a kid I wanted to be famous. I wanted people to know who I was. I wanted to be rich and successful.
I was stupid!
Age and experience has shown me that this whole notion of celebrity is completely disgusting and heart breaking.
Why do we revere people because they are good at pretending to be someone other than themselves, or because they are tall, or can run really fast, or they're attractive, or they sing well, or because they are on TV? Its not that we appreciate their talent, we idolize the person, hang on their ever word, and desire any sort of proximity we can get! We want them to be our friends, our lovers, demagogues*, or even demigods.
When I worked at a restaurant in downtown Chicago I had the most aloof managers in restaurant history. None was worse than my general manager; he would sit in the back counting money or playing solitaire until the rush would go away and the stress had passed. He was rarely around when we needed him, and never on the floor to oversee the nightly running of the restaurant. I never received any questions on how I was doing, and was never propositioned for help. That is... until one Sunday night when one of the stars from the Chicago Bulls came to sit in my section. Suddenly the man who couldn't care less about me, how my tables were, or how good at my job I was, would not get off my back!
He kept asking me how I was doing? Do I need any help? Is Soandso happy? Etc? Honestly I didn't know who the guy was. People had to tell me (all in hushed tones and whispers, just so Soandso Whatshisface wouldn't find out who he was apparently). My manager was there for this guy's every need, making sure food was out quickly, making sure I was smiling, seeing to it that his check was delivered in a timely fashion, and making sure I didn't have one second of peace the whole time Soandso Whatshisface McBasketballstar was eating dinner with his family.
I don't mean it to sound arrogant to say I couldn't have cared less. Maybe if he was on the Lakers I would have recognized him, but I wouldn't have cared any more. Being a good basketball play didn't make him more deserving of my attention than any other person I was waiting on that night. Honestly, the only affect knowing who he was had on me was it made his 15% tip seem pretty stingy ("come on dude... you can afford to throw me a twenty spot!")
As he left my manager stood with his back as straight as he could at the front door, extended his hand for a nice hand shaking, and said something about appreciated having him in our city or something. I told my manager his wife would probably be jealous if she saw him this flustered over another person, he gave me a sharp look, I laughed, and he went back to the office to play more solitaire. His night wasn't gonna get any better than that.
I was completely confused by the whole thing. What was there to gain in idolizing this guy? All the whispering, the special attention, the reverence, what did it accomplish? We were gonna get some of his vast wealth? Was it gonna make us part of his entourage? Was some of his celebrity gonna rub off on us and make us more awesome too?
There was nothing to gain accept further perpetuating of the myth that they (celebrities) are special and we (not celebrities) are not. That guy came away believing everything the media told him because we worshiped the stupid ground he walked on just like they told us to. Because he can run and put a basketball through a hoop better than you or I can. BECAUSE HE CAN PUT A BASKETBALL THROUGH A HOOP BETTER THAN YOU OR I CAN!!! Doesn't that just sound ridiculous?!
Who developed the polio vaccine?
Who has the most homeruns in a single season?
Who is the leading researcher in curing breast cancer?
Who is the best basketball player of all time?
Our priorities are screwed up. I don't know the answers to polio or cancer question either. I'm ashamed of that.
I'm not saying we shouldn't like basketball or respect those who play the game well. I'm not saying we shouldn't watch movies and respect actors. I more than most people love movies and know an embarrassing amount of information on different actors careers. But I don't worship them. And I don't care how they spend their weekends, or if they are pregnant, or divorced, or getting fat, or if they named their kid Apple!
Entertainment celebrities are even more interesting. We don't just love them for their work in film, TV, or music. We are fascinated by their social lives. Its like if we know more about their personal lives and character traits then they are our friends. But knowing this stuff doesn't help us appreciate their art any more.
Christian Bale just had this whole deal about flipping out on the director of photography on the set of Terminator Salvation. I never watched it because I don't want to support people watching it. Knowing anything about Bale does not help me understand the movie any better, and it doesn't help me to identify with his character's motivations and actions. It doesn't benefit anything accept give me something to talk about with my friends when that awkward silence lasts too long. I'm not defending his actions. I don't care. He could donate all of his money to PETA, he could kill puppies on weekends. It doesn't make the movie any better or worse. What I care about is if he is a good actor. He is, so I see his movies. His personal life is just that: personal.
I will say this much... Sure the guy had a bit of unlicensed anger, but who hasn't. Admit it in one moment of anger or hurt or frustration or whatever we have all done something we are not proud of. We just don't have six cameras on us, a boom mic over our heads capturing every word, and millions of people willing to give up time in their day to watch it happen. It doesn't excuse what he did, but it does show that he, like us, is human!
Celebrities don't owe you anything! And we shouldn't ask anything. Christians, this kind of behavior boarders dangerously on idolatry. If you don't like me being that severe (although I don't think I'm wrong) I'll soften it by saying that celebrity worship is at best completely irresponsible and a waste of time. What do we gain, and how will we answer for the time spent idolizing these people?
When I say its irresponsible I mean that caring what celebrities think is a foolish waste of time, especially when their only qualification is that they are a celebrity. Oprah is an example of this, she is the worlds most influential woman (and she's got her eye on the most influential person-shes looking at you Pope Benedict the XVI and the Dalai Lama!) and only has a college degree. Sure she has life experience and tragedy that has made her what she is, but that doesn't make her an expert on religion and able to lecture on her new belief system she is adapting and taking from popular eastern mystic authors. But people are eating it up despite its blatant contradictions and lack of historical credibility. She is a universalist concerned more with comfort than with truth. I'm not telling Christians to not watch her, but if she is to be watched it should be done critically, remember the Bible, not Oprah is the final authority on truth.
By worshiping celebrities we make idols of men and insult our Creator. Our time is better spent caring for and admiring those who we actually spend time with. Respect should be reserved primary for those who we see day in and day out and can observe their conduct so we can know whether or not they deserve or respect, admiration, and emulation. Celebrities don't deserve that. And God is the only one who should knock us to our knees, He is the only one who deserves our worship. Celebrities are just people, not objects for worship.
*a leader championing the cause of the common people in ancient times (from: http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/demagogue)
I was stupid!
Age and experience has shown me that this whole notion of celebrity is completely disgusting and heart breaking.
Why do we revere people because they are good at pretending to be someone other than themselves, or because they are tall, or can run really fast, or they're attractive, or they sing well, or because they are on TV? Its not that we appreciate their talent, we idolize the person, hang on their ever word, and desire any sort of proximity we can get! We want them to be our friends, our lovers, demagogues*, or even demigods.
When I worked at a restaurant in downtown Chicago I had the most aloof managers in restaurant history. None was worse than my general manager; he would sit in the back counting money or playing solitaire until the rush would go away and the stress had passed. He was rarely around when we needed him, and never on the floor to oversee the nightly running of the restaurant. I never received any questions on how I was doing, and was never propositioned for help. That is... until one Sunday night when one of the stars from the Chicago Bulls came to sit in my section. Suddenly the man who couldn't care less about me, how my tables were, or how good at my job I was, would not get off my back!
He kept asking me how I was doing? Do I need any help? Is Soandso happy? Etc? Honestly I didn't know who the guy was. People had to tell me (all in hushed tones and whispers, just so Soandso Whatshisface wouldn't find out who he was apparently). My manager was there for this guy's every need, making sure food was out quickly, making sure I was smiling, seeing to it that his check was delivered in a timely fashion, and making sure I didn't have one second of peace the whole time Soandso Whatshisface McBasketballstar was eating dinner with his family.
I don't mean it to sound arrogant to say I couldn't have cared less. Maybe if he was on the Lakers I would have recognized him, but I wouldn't have cared any more. Being a good basketball play didn't make him more deserving of my attention than any other person I was waiting on that night. Honestly, the only affect knowing who he was had on me was it made his 15% tip seem pretty stingy ("come on dude... you can afford to throw me a twenty spot!")
As he left my manager stood with his back as straight as he could at the front door, extended his hand for a nice hand shaking, and said something about appreciated having him in our city or something. I told my manager his wife would probably be jealous if she saw him this flustered over another person, he gave me a sharp look, I laughed, and he went back to the office to play more solitaire. His night wasn't gonna get any better than that.
I was completely confused by the whole thing. What was there to gain in idolizing this guy? All the whispering, the special attention, the reverence, what did it accomplish? We were gonna get some of his vast wealth? Was it gonna make us part of his entourage? Was some of his celebrity gonna rub off on us and make us more awesome too?
There was nothing to gain accept further perpetuating of the myth that they (celebrities) are special and we (not celebrities) are not. That guy came away believing everything the media told him because we worshiped the stupid ground he walked on just like they told us to. Because he can run and put a basketball through a hoop better than you or I can. BECAUSE HE CAN PUT A BASKETBALL THROUGH A HOOP BETTER THAN YOU OR I CAN!!! Doesn't that just sound ridiculous?!
Who developed the polio vaccine?
Who has the most homeruns in a single season?
Who is the leading researcher in curing breast cancer?
Who is the best basketball player of all time?
Our priorities are screwed up. I don't know the answers to polio or cancer question either. I'm ashamed of that.
I'm not saying we shouldn't like basketball or respect those who play the game well. I'm not saying we shouldn't watch movies and respect actors. I more than most people love movies and know an embarrassing amount of information on different actors careers. But I don't worship them. And I don't care how they spend their weekends, or if they are pregnant, or divorced, or getting fat, or if they named their kid Apple!
Entertainment celebrities are even more interesting. We don't just love them for their work in film, TV, or music. We are fascinated by their social lives. Its like if we know more about their personal lives and character traits then they are our friends. But knowing this stuff doesn't help us appreciate their art any more.
Christian Bale just had this whole deal about flipping out on the director of photography on the set of Terminator Salvation. I never watched it because I don't want to support people watching it. Knowing anything about Bale does not help me understand the movie any better, and it doesn't help me to identify with his character's motivations and actions. It doesn't benefit anything accept give me something to talk about with my friends when that awkward silence lasts too long. I'm not defending his actions. I don't care. He could donate all of his money to PETA, he could kill puppies on weekends. It doesn't make the movie any better or worse. What I care about is if he is a good actor. He is, so I see his movies. His personal life is just that: personal.
I will say this much... Sure the guy had a bit of unlicensed anger, but who hasn't. Admit it in one moment of anger or hurt or frustration or whatever we have all done something we are not proud of. We just don't have six cameras on us, a boom mic over our heads capturing every word, and millions of people willing to give up time in their day to watch it happen. It doesn't excuse what he did, but it does show that he, like us, is human!
Celebrities don't owe you anything! And we shouldn't ask anything. Christians, this kind of behavior boarders dangerously on idolatry. If you don't like me being that severe (although I don't think I'm wrong) I'll soften it by saying that celebrity worship is at best completely irresponsible and a waste of time. What do we gain, and how will we answer for the time spent idolizing these people?
When I say its irresponsible I mean that caring what celebrities think is a foolish waste of time, especially when their only qualification is that they are a celebrity. Oprah is an example of this, she is the worlds most influential woman (and she's got her eye on the most influential person-shes looking at you Pope Benedict the XVI and the Dalai Lama!) and only has a college degree. Sure she has life experience and tragedy that has made her what she is, but that doesn't make her an expert on religion and able to lecture on her new belief system she is adapting and taking from popular eastern mystic authors. But people are eating it up despite its blatant contradictions and lack of historical credibility. She is a universalist concerned more with comfort than with truth. I'm not telling Christians to not watch her, but if she is to be watched it should be done critically, remember the Bible, not Oprah is the final authority on truth.
By worshiping celebrities we make idols of men and insult our Creator. Our time is better spent caring for and admiring those who we actually spend time with. Respect should be reserved primary for those who we see day in and day out and can observe their conduct so we can know whether or not they deserve or respect, admiration, and emulation. Celebrities don't deserve that. And God is the only one who should knock us to our knees, He is the only one who deserves our worship. Celebrities are just people, not objects for worship.
*a leader championing the cause of the common people in ancient times (from: http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/demagogue)
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Deconstruction of the American Dream (But that doesn't make me some kind of socialist)
I don't know if its something they fed us as babies, or if it was subliminal messages on the television while we watched Fraggle Rock, but somehow we have grown up desiring the American Dream.
Ah the American Dream, the name we have assigned to our endless desire for that one thing more that will bring contentment... that one last thing that will bring us endless joy.
I thought I was immune to it, just like we all did. We realized its emptiness, and mocked its ability to control those around us. But not us... it wouldn't get us!
Until the day we find we're the crazy ones, holding a strainer under a running sink wondering why it never fills.
Oh to have all the things we have been told we need to be content and complete. Wealth, a good job, a loving spouse, obedient and beautiful kids... Or that one more thing to fill the void we can't name and fear to speak of.
I can't tell who told me about this dream, or who put it in my mind that I need these things. All the same there is this drive in me, this force that tells me I need them and mourns that each of them escapes my grasp.
I'm left with two options, either I am not a good American or the American Dream is not the thing that will complete me.
I risk being preachy by what I am going to say next, but it needs to be said all the same:
None of these things are ever going to make us complete. It is human nature that none of it will ever be enough. We are gluttons who are never full! We always want more. Happiness is always over the next hill, and we seek it out relentlessly. We're fooling ourselves.
I do not have the American Dream, and its not really in my grasp. I thank God for that. Its not a coping mechanism, but a firm grasp on reality, that leads me to say that I don't need any of those things to feel complete.
If I never get married. If I never have a job that provides retirement, insurance, paid vacations, and a cool title that will impress people. If I never have children. If I never have a nice house. If I never have enough money to buy a big screen TV to see Die Hard in all its seventy inch glory... All the same:
Christ has looked on me and seen my sin, seen my shame, seen my hopelessness and through humiliation, suffering, and death, has carved the only way to end my pain and bring me to eternal hope. I am a son of God, born not from flesh and blood but singularly from His will. I am a sinner who has been saved by grace and it counted righteous because Christ has made satisfaction for me, taking the death I deserved that I might share in His glory. I have been crucified with Christ and resurrected into a living hope. No matter what happen in this life that can never be taken away from me. What is left for me to dream for that is greater than that?
What need is there that the Lord cannot provide for a hundred times over? Nothing. So even if it makes me a bad American I have stopped going after the American dream, do my best (by His grace) to seek first His kingdom and His righteousness.
Amen.
None of this is to say that jobs or relationships, or material possessions are bad or not worth taking a part in. They cannot be an end unto themselves. These blessings God gives to us should point us towards Him, not to our own indulgences and self gratification.
God help us all... and He who is faithful, surely will complete the work He has begun in us.
Ah the American Dream, the name we have assigned to our endless desire for that one thing more that will bring contentment... that one last thing that will bring us endless joy.
I thought I was immune to it, just like we all did. We realized its emptiness, and mocked its ability to control those around us. But not us... it wouldn't get us!
Until the day we find we're the crazy ones, holding a strainer under a running sink wondering why it never fills.
Oh to have all the things we have been told we need to be content and complete. Wealth, a good job, a loving spouse, obedient and beautiful kids... Or that one more thing to fill the void we can't name and fear to speak of.
I can't tell who told me about this dream, or who put it in my mind that I need these things. All the same there is this drive in me, this force that tells me I need them and mourns that each of them escapes my grasp.
I'm left with two options, either I am not a good American or the American Dream is not the thing that will complete me.
I risk being preachy by what I am going to say next, but it needs to be said all the same:
None of these things are ever going to make us complete. It is human nature that none of it will ever be enough. We are gluttons who are never full! We always want more. Happiness is always over the next hill, and we seek it out relentlessly. We're fooling ourselves.
I do not have the American Dream, and its not really in my grasp. I thank God for that. Its not a coping mechanism, but a firm grasp on reality, that leads me to say that I don't need any of those things to feel complete.
If I never get married. If I never have a job that provides retirement, insurance, paid vacations, and a cool title that will impress people. If I never have children. If I never have a nice house. If I never have enough money to buy a big screen TV to see Die Hard in all its seventy inch glory... All the same:
Christ has looked on me and seen my sin, seen my shame, seen my hopelessness and through humiliation, suffering, and death, has carved the only way to end my pain and bring me to eternal hope. I am a son of God, born not from flesh and blood but singularly from His will. I am a sinner who has been saved by grace and it counted righteous because Christ has made satisfaction for me, taking the death I deserved that I might share in His glory. I have been crucified with Christ and resurrected into a living hope. No matter what happen in this life that can never be taken away from me. What is left for me to dream for that is greater than that?
What need is there that the Lord cannot provide for a hundred times over? Nothing. So even if it makes me a bad American I have stopped going after the American dream, do my best (by His grace) to seek first His kingdom and His righteousness.
Amen.
None of this is to say that jobs or relationships, or material possessions are bad or not worth taking a part in. They cannot be an end unto themselves. These blessings God gives to us should point us towards Him, not to our own indulgences and self gratification.
God help us all... and He who is faithful, surely will complete the work He has begun in us.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
old poems that were songs when I screamed in a hardcore band
Once upon a time Tyler was in a hardcore band. That's right, a hardcore band: where the guitars where tuned to drop B, the drummer constantly was breaking cymbals and the singers screamed every lyric. I was the guy who screamed. I thought this was a good time to look at old lyrics to see where I was to reflect better on where I am and where I hope to go as I live out my life.
"Holy Covenant"
Bury-the ashes of fallen dreams
release-our hopes for greatness
surrender-our pride our everything
to find something better than we could ever attain-on our own
we're expecting pain and suffering
anticipating the loss of everything
knowing the hurt
knowing the pain
we enter into this covenant
never give in, never live in surrender
stubborn until death, this will be our cry:
never give in, never live in surrender
"Cry of Resistance"
bite the hand that feeds me/when that hand tries to poison me/i will not be brainwashed/i will not be controlled/i will not be told how to think/i'll hear all sides/find the truth/not your convenient ideal/bite the hand that feeds me/when that hand tries to poison me
"Untitled"*
You're my all/you're everything to me/you're all that I am/everything I want to be/this fire inside me/forever let it burn/oh God keep this passion in my heart/oh God like the fire make me like you/i want nothing more than to follow you all of my days/so God I pray/take me and break me and make me more like you/come trials or persecution my strength is in you/i'll never turn/i'll never regret my sacrifice/its all about you
None of these are particularly good. But I think they are interesting to look at and reflect on. I like seeing where I was, so I can learn from the past and grow. Maybe I can hold onto those strong points, and progress in the weak ones. That's the dream** anyways.
*I actually wrote this when I was like 15 or 16 but we tried making it into a song so I thought it'd be fun to look at again after so long.
**not the American Dream, that I plan on discussing later
"Holy Covenant"
Bury-the ashes of fallen dreams
release-our hopes for greatness
surrender-our pride our everything
to find something better than we could ever attain-on our own
we're expecting pain and suffering
anticipating the loss of everything
knowing the hurt
knowing the pain
we enter into this covenant
never give in, never live in surrender
stubborn until death, this will be our cry:
never give in, never live in surrender
"Cry of Resistance"
bite the hand that feeds me/when that hand tries to poison me/i will not be brainwashed/i will not be controlled/i will not be told how to think/i'll hear all sides/find the truth/not your convenient ideal/bite the hand that feeds me/when that hand tries to poison me
"Untitled"*
You're my all/you're everything to me/you're all that I am/everything I want to be/this fire inside me/forever let it burn/oh God keep this passion in my heart/oh God like the fire make me like you/i want nothing more than to follow you all of my days/so God I pray/take me and break me and make me more like you/come trials or persecution my strength is in you/i'll never turn/i'll never regret my sacrifice/its all about you
None of these are particularly good. But I think they are interesting to look at and reflect on. I like seeing where I was, so I can learn from the past and grow. Maybe I can hold onto those strong points, and progress in the weak ones. That's the dream** anyways.
*I actually wrote this when I was like 15 or 16 but we tried making it into a song so I thought it'd be fun to look at again after so long.
**not the American Dream, that I plan on discussing later
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Fear
Sharks scare me so bad my bone marrow freezes, my spine locks and vertebrae fuse together.
I am not trying to be cute when I admit that my friends and I recently took the time to watch Sharkweek one evening. I decided to face my fear, look into the eyes of evil, and stand anew, a warrior who has conquered the monster of fear.
I had nightmares.
The whole night's sleep was draped in visions of sharks swarming, chasing, and feasting.
I faced my fear but my fear remained resolute still.
God willing I will never see a shark in the flesh, apart from when he and I are separated by thick enough glass that all the desire and hunger in the world will not be enough for him to be able to break it. The fear remains and keeps me from waters and from watching Sharkweeks.
Sharks, you do not frighten me so much because in the darkness of my room you cannot harm me. You remain in your world and I in mine.
As I lay safe and sound from all the evils of the world of sharks there is another fear that lurks in my heart, that attacks me only when I'm alone. Only when I feel the most safe.
This fear, I would gladly exchange all the sharks in the world for this darkness.
It is the voice late at night.
The voice that challenges everything I am.
The voice that examines and criticizes and calls every imperfection to mind.
Every imperfection so I can think on them over, and over, and over again.
And that voice, when all other voices have been silences, whispers to me the thought.
The thought that makes me long for the company of Jaws himself to distract from the hurt.
The thought is this: what if all that I was ever good at was lying?
Have I fabricated fictions to perpetuate personas that create a caricature that would be me.
What if the only thing I was good at was pretending to be something, anything other than what I value most: Honest.
It seems foolish to escape swimming with sharks only to lay in the grass with snakes.
God help me!
I am not trying to be cute when I admit that my friends and I recently took the time to watch Sharkweek one evening. I decided to face my fear, look into the eyes of evil, and stand anew, a warrior who has conquered the monster of fear.
I had nightmares.
The whole night's sleep was draped in visions of sharks swarming, chasing, and feasting.
I faced my fear but my fear remained resolute still.
God willing I will never see a shark in the flesh, apart from when he and I are separated by thick enough glass that all the desire and hunger in the world will not be enough for him to be able to break it. The fear remains and keeps me from waters and from watching Sharkweeks.
Sharks, you do not frighten me so much because in the darkness of my room you cannot harm me. You remain in your world and I in mine.
As I lay safe and sound from all the evils of the world of sharks there is another fear that lurks in my heart, that attacks me only when I'm alone. Only when I feel the most safe.
This fear, I would gladly exchange all the sharks in the world for this darkness.
It is the voice late at night.
The voice that challenges everything I am.
The voice that examines and criticizes and calls every imperfection to mind.
Every imperfection so I can think on them over, and over, and over again.
And that voice, when all other voices have been silences, whispers to me the thought.
The thought that makes me long for the company of Jaws himself to distract from the hurt.
The thought is this: what if all that I was ever good at was lying?
Have I fabricated fictions to perpetuate personas that create a caricature that would be me.
What if the only thing I was good at was pretending to be something, anything other than what I value most: Honest.
It seems foolish to escape swimming with sharks only to lay in the grass with snakes.
God help me!
Friday, December 5, 2008
Silent and Stupid (when the wordsmith runs dry)
can we speak frankly?
Honestly?
Openly?
Words mount from floor to ceiling
Words to rest on rose pedals
Words to trip upon
Words to give wings to ideas
And words like led to bring them down
Words to create emotions
Emotions that I'm not feeling
but in guilt I am creating
Honestly?
Openly?
Words mount from floor to ceiling
Words to rest on rose pedals
Words to trip upon
Words to give wings to ideas
And words like led to bring them down
Words to create emotions
Emotions that I'm not feeling
but in guilt I am creating
'Cause that's what good alter boys do!
Let the clock strike
Let the drought end!
and bring me back what I once had
Magic words? a lamp to rub?
What brings you out to set me free?
I've said rhymes and clever verses.
I've said every trite and overused phrase...
bathed myself in predictable cliches
I don't know whats gonna make this end. If I say the same thing over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again!
what if i SCREAM! will you hear me?
What do I have to say?
Let me be stupid and speechless
Please don't make me say anything at all
Let me feel your arms around me
and whisper "son soon we'll go home"
Then stand me up steady and upright
your hand on my neck as we go
a warm palm always there to remind me
that I will never be alone
You bring the words that speak comfort
you're rain on the desert sand
so let me be silent and stupid
And soak up your words again
Monday, December 1, 2008
The Vision
I dreamed of a future that is not as distant as some would hope. There are those who will say I am a lunatic, but history will vindicate me! My dream has told me that we, modern man is spiraling into yet another world war, World War Three.
I stand, poised, feet shoulder width apart. There's blood dripping from my right hand, I'm not sure why. Is it mine? Is it his? I settle in my mind not to know. Nothing can be done about it now. There's a job to finish. I'm a soldier, this is what I'm made for. My pistol is pointed toward the ground, not the ground, the man lying on the ground. Kyhl, the man I once called brother. Now fate has made us enemies. I pull back the hammer, the bullet slides into place. Kyhl stairs down the barrel, his eyes nearly cross. He breaths out a last desperate plea, "Tyler... brother." I respond in a all too guttural, awesome sounding tough guy voice: "Once." A single tear falls lose from the corner of his eye, the man who never cries! The salt water creates a stream of white, washing away days of dirt and blood that were covering his face. "All of this... death... and for what? Its liked I don't even know you anymore! Its like we speak... but we don't make a sound." My finger moves on its own, the trigger pulls, the hammer falls, and the bullet explodes from the chamber. Kyhl falls limp, I turn my head, unable to watch as a man I once called brother finds his end.
"Can you hear me now?" I retort with a dry cool wit reserves for action heroes of the highest caliber (a'la Bruce Willis in Die Hard). Smokes rises from the chamber. I remain still, tall and proud. The full moon's glow reveals me in full uniform, black with red camouflage, certainly its not practical but it looks freakin' sweet. A "V" on the left side of my chest, its my emblem, the symbol of my devotion: Verizon Wireless. She is my mother, and I am her son, her administrator of justice. I am a soldier in the greatest war known to man, World War Three: Battle of the Cell Phone Providers.
I awake in a cold sweat, both impressed with how cool I looked as a soldier of the VMF (Verizon Military Force) and distraught to have seen myself kill a man who has been such a close friend to me. Worse still is the sinking feeling that I have looked at an image that was not intended for me, as though I were given access to secret information. I saw what will be: the terrible, Terminator-esque destruction of WWIII: BotCPP. Our only hope is that this blog would shed light on the danger we march towards, in hopes of creating a more tolerant world before its too late.
I used to hate cell phones. I hated the idea that someone should be able to get a hold of me at all times, there was no more privacy. Among all of my friends I was the last to get one, which seemed like a cool social stand for me to take but a pain for all of my friends from whom I was constantly borrowing phones. Then one day I gave in and got a cell phone and plummeted into the dark world of total dependency on that stupid little box. It has become a part of my life to where sometimes I feel completely disconnected if I don't have it; "who is calling me?" I wonder. Generally no one. Life goes on...
Along with having a cell phone is being aware of plans and limitations, I can text this often to a person with this other provider, and text all I want to anyone with Verizon, I can talk all I want to anyone on Verizon but can only talk for free on nights and weekends to So and So or Such and Such because they are on T-Mobile... etc. etc. Forget even trying to figure out different time zones or holidays. I don't know about you but I'm generally too lazy to keep track of how many texts I've sent, much less trying to keep track of my minutes used during the day. Its all too much. Laziness led to me deciding that my closest friends (if they wanted to talk to me) must be Verizon subscribers, otherwise they were just too much trouble. And there began my intolerance of other cell phone companies.
I know I'm not alone. We have all gone through the bigotry of disliking someone because of their cell phone provider I hate calling Ryan, he never has service here! I always joked that my number one standard for a girl was not her smile or any other thing guys often say, first and foremost she has to have Verizon. Otherwise its just too much trouble.
There was a girl I was interested in and we would text often. But she was from some other provider. She was not my people. I lived in panic with every text, conflicted by a desire to respond and fear of the tole it would take on my bank account. I was happy she wanted to text me and terrified of what my next statement would look like. I considered cutting her off, abandoning texting or calling her and turning instead to my own kind. I was troubled.
I realized this is exactly what the companies want, they want us divided and hating each other. They want to pull us apart and segregate us. It begins with dismissing a person now because of their cell phone provider. But the lines we draw in the sand may never be erased and before we know it our world is divided and war is commonplace: mother against daughter, brother against sister, friend against friend! We must practice tolerance before this dream becomes a reality. We must accept one another, no matter the service we choose, otherwise the big corporations win. And that's not what anyone wants... well... maybe the big corporations, but that's not the point.
I stand, poised, feet shoulder width apart. There's blood dripping from my right hand, I'm not sure why. Is it mine? Is it his? I settle in my mind not to know. Nothing can be done about it now. There's a job to finish. I'm a soldier, this is what I'm made for. My pistol is pointed toward the ground, not the ground, the man lying on the ground. Kyhl, the man I once called brother. Now fate has made us enemies. I pull back the hammer, the bullet slides into place. Kyhl stairs down the barrel, his eyes nearly cross. He breaths out a last desperate plea, "Tyler... brother." I respond in a all too guttural, awesome sounding tough guy voice: "Once." A single tear falls lose from the corner of his eye, the man who never cries! The salt water creates a stream of white, washing away days of dirt and blood that were covering his face. "All of this... death... and for what? Its liked I don't even know you anymore! Its like we speak... but we don't make a sound." My finger moves on its own, the trigger pulls, the hammer falls, and the bullet explodes from the chamber. Kyhl falls limp, I turn my head, unable to watch as a man I once called brother finds his end.
"Can you hear me now?" I retort with a dry cool wit reserves for action heroes of the highest caliber (a'la Bruce Willis in Die Hard). Smokes rises from the chamber. I remain still, tall and proud. The full moon's glow reveals me in full uniform, black with red camouflage, certainly its not practical but it looks freakin' sweet. A "V" on the left side of my chest, its my emblem, the symbol of my devotion: Verizon Wireless. She is my mother, and I am her son, her administrator of justice. I am a soldier in the greatest war known to man, World War Three: Battle of the Cell Phone Providers.
I awake in a cold sweat, both impressed with how cool I looked as a soldier of the VMF (Verizon Military Force) and distraught to have seen myself kill a man who has been such a close friend to me. Worse still is the sinking feeling that I have looked at an image that was not intended for me, as though I were given access to secret information. I saw what will be: the terrible, Terminator-esque destruction of WWIII: BotCPP. Our only hope is that this blog would shed light on the danger we march towards, in hopes of creating a more tolerant world before its too late.
I used to hate cell phones. I hated the idea that someone should be able to get a hold of me at all times, there was no more privacy. Among all of my friends I was the last to get one, which seemed like a cool social stand for me to take but a pain for all of my friends from whom I was constantly borrowing phones. Then one day I gave in and got a cell phone and plummeted into the dark world of total dependency on that stupid little box. It has become a part of my life to where sometimes I feel completely disconnected if I don't have it; "who is calling me?" I wonder. Generally no one. Life goes on...
Along with having a cell phone is being aware of plans and limitations, I can text this often to a person with this other provider, and text all I want to anyone with Verizon, I can talk all I want to anyone on Verizon but can only talk for free on nights and weekends to So and So or Such and Such because they are on T-Mobile... etc. etc. Forget even trying to figure out different time zones or holidays. I don't know about you but I'm generally too lazy to keep track of how many texts I've sent, much less trying to keep track of my minutes used during the day. Its all too much. Laziness led to me deciding that my closest friends (if they wanted to talk to me) must be Verizon subscribers, otherwise they were just too much trouble. And there began my intolerance of other cell phone companies.
I know I'm not alone. We have all gone through the bigotry of disliking someone because of their cell phone provider I hate calling Ryan, he never has service here! I always joked that my number one standard for a girl was not her smile or any other thing guys often say, first and foremost she has to have Verizon. Otherwise its just too much trouble.
There was a girl I was interested in and we would text often. But she was from some other provider. She was not my people. I lived in panic with every text, conflicted by a desire to respond and fear of the tole it would take on my bank account. I was happy she wanted to text me and terrified of what my next statement would look like. I considered cutting her off, abandoning texting or calling her and turning instead to my own kind. I was troubled.
I realized this is exactly what the companies want, they want us divided and hating each other. They want to pull us apart and segregate us. It begins with dismissing a person now because of their cell phone provider. But the lines we draw in the sand may never be erased and before we know it our world is divided and war is commonplace: mother against daughter, brother against sister, friend against friend! We must practice tolerance before this dream becomes a reality. We must accept one another, no matter the service we choose, otherwise the big corporations win. And that's not what anyone wants... well... maybe the big corporations, but that's not the point.
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