Good writing

It's been a while since I've heard this, but today I did. And this is one of my favorite verses in song.
And I use the word "verse" loosely here.

My name is Sue.
How do you do?
Now you gonna die.

Brilliant.

Thank you Mr. Cash. Today I'm reminded that I miss your songwriting.

Demographics can be fun

I took Western Civilization when I was a sophomore in high school. It was an AP class which means college level. College level means hard. Big mistake on my part.

On one of the exams an essay question directed me to do something with demographics. Use them to support my response, talk about them, who knows. So I raised my hand like any properly trained student who has been told there is no dumb question and asked, "What are demographics?" Apparently I missed the training session where they tell you the teacher doesn't have to actually answer your question. Instead I got, "You probably should have asked that before the test."

If I could have that moment back I would like to say, "Well I guess I won't be answering this question." Oooh, in her face. You won't be surprised to hear I opted not to take that AP exam. That was the one good decision I made in that class.

I know what demographics are now.

Oompa-Loompa genius

This is just too good not to share. As simple and childish as it is, the awesomeness is undeniable. It rings with me as I frequently consider dismantling the TV. Or maybe just the cable.

From my friend Roald Dahl, care of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
I just finished reading this and was thoroughly impressed with the Oompa-Loompa songs. This one I read out loud to wife last night before our first born interrupted. But I got through most of it. (I have not double checked the accuracy but it looks pretty close.)

The most important thing we've learned,
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
Them near your television set --
Or better still, just don't install
The idiotic thing at all.
In almost every house we've been,
We've watched them gaping at the screen.
They loll and slop and lounge about,
And stare until their eyes pop out.
(Last week in someone's place we saw
A dozen eyeballs on the floor.)
They sit and stare and stare and sit
Until they're hypnotised by it,
Until they're absolutely drunk
With all that shocking ghastly junk.
Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,
They don't climb out the window sill,
They never fight or kick or punch,
They leave you free to cook the lunch
And wash the dishes in the sink --
But did you ever stop to think,
To wonder just exactly what
This does to your beloved tot?
IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD!
IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!
IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!
IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND
HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND
A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!
HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!
HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE!
HE CANNOT THINK -- HE ONLY SEES!
'All right!' you'll cry. 'All right!' you'll say,
'But if we take the set away,
What shall we do to entertain
Our darling children? Please explain!'
We'll answer this by asking you,
'What used the darling ones to do?
'How used they keep themselves contented
Before this monster was invented?'
Have you forgotten? Don't you know?
We'll say it very loud and slow:
THEY ... USED ... TO ... READ! They'd READ and READ,
AND READ and READ, and then proceed
To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!
One half their lives was reading books!
The nursery shelves held books galore!
Books cluttered up the nursery floor!
And in the bedroom, by the bed,
More books were waiting to be read!
Such wondrous, fine, fantastic tales
Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales
And treasure isles, and distant shores
Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars,
And pirates wearing purple pants,
And sailing ships and elephants,
And cannibals crouching 'round the pot,
Stirring away at something hot.
(It smells so good, what can it be?
Good gracious, it's Penelope.)
The younger ones had Beatrix Potter
With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,
And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,
And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and-
Just How The Camel Got His Hump,
And How the Monkey Lost His Rump,
And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,
There's Mr. Rat and Mr. Mole-
Oh, books, what books they used to know,
Those children living long ago!
So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,
Go throw your TV set away,
And in its place you can install
A lovely bookshelf on the wall.
Then fill the shelves with lots of books,
Ignoring all the dirty looks,
The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,
And children hitting you with sticks-
Fear not, because we promise you
That, in about a week or two
Of having nothing else to do,
They'll now begin to feel the need
Of having something to read.
And once they start -- oh boy, oh boy!
You watch the slowly growing joy
That fills their hearts. They'll grow so keen
They'll wonder what they'd ever seen
In that ridiculous machine,
That nauseating, foul, unclean,
Repulsive television screen!
And later, each and every kid
Will love you more for what you did.

the bad first

I have found myself going through this March Madness type tournament on CMT.com today. 64 videos from amateur/semi-pro country/not-so-country musicians. There are a bunch, as in a BUNCH, of not good songs. I only write this to say you know a song is not going to be good when it is titled "I Still Think About You" and the first line is "I just googled your name again." I am pretty sure but any reference to Google disqualifies a song from respectability unless you're Brad Paisley. I think that dude can sing about anything he wants.

This does make me feel better about my own writing that has taken a multi-year hiatus.

However, this gives me a chance to start what is hopefully a reoccurring occurrence here. What I think would make a good movie or song title. The newest is Lonely Kingdom. I think this could make for a fine movie one day. I'd probably go see it. How could that not be good.

Oh, and one of the videos was made in my old home town outside of Cleveland. How wacko is that?

News rag

Here is a portion of an email I sent the boss to update her on the family status last Thursday.

We're all doing well and Jackson seems very content to sleep and be loved. I attached a couple of pictures but please ask everybody not to sell any of these photos to the tabloids. They are all trying to get the first picture (and paying top dollar I might add) but we want to keep him out of the international spotlight as much as possible.
Thanks.

When I got into the office Tuesday somebody had worked this up.

repositioning

I thought this was a really interesting video. 20 minutes, but you'll be engaged.
Rethink your assumptions.

the elusive bride

Do you know who the bride is? Not you or me or him or her alone, but us together. Us together is her, the bride. I'm just getting my brain wrapped around this. I'm seeing more that this is the Church. And big church Sunday style is not the Church. And the various house churches are not the church. It may be expressions, but not it. That's my growing understanding of the bride, and it's challenging.

That's my super quick background on why I thought this was a really great email I got to peek in on.

You know God was able to give Moses some very specific instructions on how to build the tabernacle. If He had wanted to, He could have done the same quite easily in defining what were the important sacraments, what day of the week we should meet, and what were the 17 key points to have in our statement of faith. Instead “He gave some as apostles, and some as prophets, and some as evangelists, and some as pastors and teachers, for the equipping of the saints for the work of service, to the building up of the body of Christ; until we all attain to the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to a mature man, to the measure of the stature which belongs to the fullness of Christ.”

With all that there were arguments and schisms in the NT church too. I guess many of Paul’s letters (those that survived and those that didn’t) addressed that.

So do you think we have been doing it all wrong for 1700 or so years now since Constantine?

I suppose the problem is that you can’t really define what is beyond definition in some sense. People want an ecclesiology that they can see, understand, control, or at least that is definitive, ordered, and structured in some sense. They see a pattern or system to everything in the created world and expect the same in the church. What you’re describing is far too dynamic. People want to see and know what their role is in all of this. After all these years, we still want a king of our own flesh, just like Israel and a defined kingdom. We want a simpler order, hierarchy, methodology, or system. The order within a fractal is too complex!

Anyway…just some thoughts. In some sense its very simple to grasp. In another, it’s way over our heads, and not wanted because it’s not within our control, nor does it have the appearance of order in a simple way.

summer fun

Summer is here. Time to bust out the water balloons.

thank you for your service

I am saying good bye to www.apple.com/trailers/ today. But hello to www.themoviebox.net.

Thank you Apple Trailers but you've been preempted.

I will say Hot Rod looks gud.

promising

I can only hope this movie fills out the trailer nicely.

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What's in a name?

Not surprisingly I have been thinking about names. I'm gonna have to name a boy here soon so it's been on my mind. Fortunately we have many friends with children. Unfortunately they have taken numerous cool names so I feel like the selection has begun to limit itself before I could even get in the game. So anytime I hear something about names my ears perk up.

When I was younger I did not like my name much but I have grown quite fond of it. Especially my middle name, my mother's maiden name. So I have been quite picky when it comes to this son of mine.

You must know that I am in love with finding shadows of Christ and the Father's nature in the everyday mundane life. I really love it. A lot. And the foreshadowing of events like exodus and passover. Well a couple weeks ago I heard somebody talking about how we take on the name of Christ as Christians. So naturally I started to mull it over and this is where I was stuck.

Is something missed when a wife decides not to take her husband's name when they marry?

I have some friends where the wife has opted for this. I know many of the reasons wives choose not to; career, hassle, independence, etc. And don't think I'm judging if your wife didn't take your name. But is there a missing piece, small though it may be, to a joining of man and woman where the husband's name is is not adopted? I won't wade into authority (which should be a big blessing to the wife if I understand it correctly) or any other stream from these waters but you can. Just a question in my brain these days.

Initially I think there may be something lost. In the same way, as a follower of Jesus, if I would not take up his name, might I be lacking some intimacy? Am I even living in the name I've been given? Am I living as a bride under a new name?

I'll talk to wife about this and see what she thinks about her own name. That isn't a question I've asked her yet but it makes sense to me. I'm sure there's something to be learned from her on this matter.

Greg Boyd's in the house

I thought I had pasted this up here earlier but I don't see it. I think it's really great.
Here are some highlights for you.

We “fall” when, instead of freely receiving LIFE from God we seek to acquire LIFE on our own. This is what the story of Adam and Eve in the Garden is all about (Gen. 3).

And yet, so long as we buy the lie that LIFE can be found outside of God, we think the problem is that we simply don’t have enough. If only we had more of our god, we think, or perhaps if only we had a different god, we’d find relief from our pain, we’d feel full, alive, meaningful and secure. But it’s all a grand illusion.

We are on the precipice of LIFE when we begin to wake up to this grand illusion. When we realize and accept the utter futility of god-chasing, we are at the door of the Kingdom.

this body of ours

Yes, again today, I am amazed at our bodies. We have been wonderfully made. The mechanism is built in such perfect ways.

Still amazed.

heart songs

A few weeks ago I took a Saturday morning and got together with a couple of friends. We covered a bunch of stuff but one of the sweetest things happened to me.

Have you ever had somebody say something to you, about you, that you couldn't put to words, but when they said it you knew it was true? Well that's what happened to me. My heart, for some time, had been trying to speak something but my mind couldn't sort it out. I couldn't wrap words around the feelings I was having. But then there it was, as if obvious. What an incredible thing to have the ache of your heart spoken over you. It's hard to describe how my heart was rejoicing, but it was. It still is. I expect this will be a cherished memory for a while.

So fast forward a few weeks to yesterday, Sunday. I am standing in our church house and singing a song that is getting repetitive. Something to the effect of "you are faithful," endlessly. Occasionally I can handle this but there are many times I'm bugged.

So it's happening again. I may even be thinking, "I don't get this." Blah, blah. Do I believe it? Yes. But it's getting tedious. This time however, my mind wanders back on that Saturday morning, how great it was. And there's a nudge in me whispering, "Yeah, I like that too."

KA-BOOM.

Oh...really?...oh...ok.

I've heard about praising God. Or blessing God. But inside of me, it has seemed as something I'm supposed to do. "Well, ok, I guess if that's what you say, I'll praise you. You are awesome. You are good and right. How's that?" Sometimes even part of a prayer formula. Yuck, run.

What if, His heart, is blessed by what I say. Truly blessed. To think that I can bless God, in any way, is amazing to consider. The creator of the universe, the judge of everything, the editor of the bestseller of all time could be blessed by little me.

It makes me think more on this Father-son relationship we have. As a son I can bless my heavenly Father. Mind boggling. More and more I'm thinking that's about all I'm good for. And what a little cuss I've been.

I was gonna say, "As a side note," but I thought better of it. How much can I bless my earthly father. Do I really do that? Ummm, I don't think so, but today I will start.

I think yesterday was another one of those moments that will change me from the guts out. I can be loose and free with my praise and it blesses Him. So great. So, so great.

Father,
You are AWESOME. You are good and right.
You paint incredible sunsets. You grow up beautiful trees.
You are deep to no end and yet make yourself known in the most simple ways.
I love you. I really do.
your boy,
Colin

I think I just figured out where the Psalms came from.

No socks with sandals

Today I was sent "15 Style Mistakes You Can Fix Now" by one of the two people that live in my current residence. How would you take this? Needless to say, I know how I took it.

I do like #14: If you have a hairy chest, you cannot wear a V-neck without an undershirt.

This applies to me. My chest is hairy. I have though, been using clippers to cut it close recently and I like it mucho. There was some initial itching, but it only lasts a day or three. I have repeated as necessary and that itching has been substantially less than the initial shearing. I am considering trying it out on my legs. But again I fear the itching as does wife who sleeps in the same bed I do with great regularity.

Warning: somewhat political commentary

I think this is the first political comment I've made in this space. Maybe. But hopefully I'll get to make more. That could be fun.

I have learned that TIME magazine just published their 100 most influential list. It's a global, ranked list (which must be hard as you decide between number 86 and 87). Not just an alphabetical list of 100 earthlings.

So who would I think should be in the top 10. George W. Bush. That's reasonable, no? Who is not in the top 10. The previously mentioned current president of the Unites States of America. Nor is he in the top 25. Ummm, ok. I'll listen to your argument. Oh wait, he's not on the list. At all. Anywhere.

I don't care if you like this man or not. I really doesn't matter to me. But it is inconceivable to me that the current president of the country the magazine is written in is left off this list. This man has led the relatively powerful and influential U.S.A. into a military conflict in a region that does not forget or forgive quickly. Thousands of sons have died. It's in the news daily. It is perhaps the single most separating issue in this country today. It was the driving force in the last national election and could very well be again in the next. I won't go on.

What makes you think he is not in the top 100 most influential?

Hello, TIME, you write about this man every week. (I'm guessing, but is there any doubt.) I gathered from a quick look at readers comments on the online article, that this is receiving some small amount of press. Maybe that was the point. If so it's working. But TIME has just knocked itself out of any small stack of news magazines that I would consider reading. Perhaps that will change, but they will have to change first.

And speaking of news magazines, with the speed of the internet, is there any reason to keep these dinosaurs around? I am updated about news every minute of the day. Anything that a magazine puts out is a week old. A week. Maybe doctor office subscribers and airport magazine racks are keeping these things alive.

So long TIME, nice knowing you.

Who names their kid Oswald?

This is good for me. Just seems like I'm continually being stripped of what I think is important.

Salvation is not merely deliverance from sin, nor the experience of personal holiness; the salvation of God is deliverance out of self entirely into union with Himself. My experimental knowledge of salvation will be along the line of deliverance from sin and of personal holiness; but salvation means that the Spirit of God has brought me into touch with God's personality, and I am thrilled with something infinitely greater than myself, I am caught up into the abandonment of God.

To say that we are called to preach holiness or sanctification, is to get into a side eddy. We are called to proclaim Jesus Christ. The fact that He saves from sin and makes us holy is part of the effect of the wonderful abandonment of God.

Abandonment never produces the consciousness of its own effort, because the whole life is taken up with the One to Whom we abandon. Beware of talking about abandonment if you know nothing about it, and you will never know anything about it until you have realized that John 3:16 means that God gave Himself absolutely. In our abandonment we give ourselves over to God just as God gave Himself for us, without any calculation. The consequence of abandonment never enters into our outlook because our life is taken up with Him.

I'm excited about getting "caught up into the abandonment of God" and increasingly embracing Him. The pressure seems to be off me and on Him.

So bring it.

favorite word so far this year

Who keeps track of their favorite word in any given year? I do.
I don't remember them from year to year, but I have a favorite so far this year.

makesenseness

And it's been leading since January.

Why can't we say it more often?

Boop.

Yeah, that Post article again

I am still amazed by the Washington Post article. So many good and eye popping things straight from the author. As a reminder, Joshua Bell, one of the world's most famous violinists, played in a subway station in our nation's capital for 45 minutes going completely unrecognized save one person.

One biographically intriguing fact about Bell is that he got his first music lessons when he was a 4-year-old in Bloomington, Ind. His parents, both psychologists, decided formal training might be a good idea after they saw that their son had strung rubber bands across his dresser drawers and was replicating classical tunes by ear, moving drawers in and out to vary the pitch.

This I would like to have seen.

For many of us, the explosion in technology has perversely limited, not expanded, our exposure to new experiences. Increasingly, we get our news from sources that think as we already do. And with iPods, we hear what we already know; we program our own playlists.

Hmmm.

After "Chaconne," it is Franz Schubert's "Ave Maria," which surprised some music critics when it debuted in 1825: Schubert seldom showed religious feeling in his compositions, yet "Ave Maria" is a breathtaking work of adoration of the Virgin Mary. What was with the sudden piety? Schubert dryly answered: "I think this is due to the fact that I never forced devotion in myself and never compose hymns or prayers of that kind unless it overcomes me unawares; but then it is usually the right and true devotion."

What does my "devotion" look like? Crossroads every Sunday? And Wednesday when offered?

The poet Billy Collins once laughingly observed that all babies are born with a knowledge of poetry, because the lub-dub of the mother's heart is in iambic meter. Then, Collins said, life slowly starts to choke the poetry out of us. It may be true with music, too.

I've felt that choking but have recently been able to breathe more easily. It takes work though. Or maybe silence. I'm reminded of Isaiah 30:15, This is what the Sovereign Lord, the Holy One of Israel, says: "In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength, but you would have none of it."

"When you play for ticket-holders," Bell explains, "you are already validated. I have no sense that I need to be accepted. I'm already accepted. Here, there was this thought: What if they don't like me? What if they resent my presence . . ."

What if we substitute "ticket-holders" for "God"? But I often feel like I am in the subway station. "What if they don't like me? What if they resent my presence . . ."

I like the idea of this ticket-holder. Freeing.

I'd like to talk like this

This is from one of wife's relatives. And despite that, it's really good. He has pages of quotes and daily happenings with his 2 year old.

I'd really love my relationship with Father to sound more like this.

Later, when I was headed out the door, Carl called after me. "Thank you for giving me food, Daddy." He had already told me that he loved me, and he just wanted to say it again, differently.

More on Love

Greg Boyd's blog has gradually made its way into my regular diet of reads. I think there's some good stuff for me and it's helpful in that he questions some of the packs I carry. Especially around politics and government. I really like this particular post, "God's Motherly Affection," which is about neither politics or government.

Taken

I'm not exactly sure why I decided to start doing this, but not infrequently I take my wedding band off at night and set it on my dresser. What I've found is that when I put it back on each morning it has more significance than just a piece of jewelry I always wear. Sort of like the framed piece of art you forget about in your house until somebody visits and comments. This ritual is a great reminder that I am a husband and have a wife that I need to love.

A few days ago, as I walked into my office, I realized I had forgotten my ring. I have an ingrained habit of spinning my ring by running my left thumb over it, and as I did it felt empty. Now in the short trek left to my assigned space a smile coming from my heart covered my face. The thought was this, "It's really nice to be taken." I'm spoken for. It still makes me smile.

This marriage thing is a pretty good gig if you can get it.

Wildcatting

I think wildcatting sounds really cool.
"Yeah, that's right, I'm a wildcatter."
If I was still single this would be my answer to, "So what do YOU do?"

Honestly though, I don't think I really want to be a wildcatter. Looks dirty and hot. But I would play this game were it available to me.

I am ok being a copycatter.

This Washington Post article was blogged on by my friend AP. It is phenomenal. It's a lengthy read but I highly recommend it. There is so much good stuff in here I am begging you to read it.

What AP says lines up with where I am right now so I won't take the time to re-write all of his thoughts. Good on ya AP.

Here is his quick description of the article:

There was a fantastic article in the Washington Post last Sunday about a brilliant experiment in which "one of the finest classical musicians in the world, playing some of the most elegant music ever written on one of the most valuable violins ever made" stood performing in the metro station in Washington during the morning commute. The question that was asked was "In a banal setting at an inconvenient time, would beauty transcend?" Of course it wouldn't!!!!! Unbelievable beauty against the crushing deadline of that 7:45 water cooler gossip session?

the two sides

This is not from me. But I will pass it along to you because it's good. Essentially, the whole idea is in quotes.

In a religious context we're always trying to earn our place. The more righteous I can be, the more relationship with God I can have. Or, in the new covenant, the more relationship with God you have, the more righteous He'll make you to be.

If you love me you'll keep my commandments. - John 14
Religious: Do you prove the loving by the keeping?
Jesus: Or [and this sounds better], if you get the loving right, the keeping takes care of itself.

Replace the shame, sin, performance, guilt, need, approval in our lives with "He loves me at my most broken." Everything else related to performance/religion pushes us away.

I think Jesus is trying to say to me, "If you love me, yeah, the commandments will take care of themselves." Will I receive that? I'd like to say yes more confidently. I will say, the Lord is working that into me. And it reminds me again that the day of salvation is today.

It boils down to this.
"If you get the loving right, the keeping takes care of itself."

Here's the warning, don't get caught in the commandment (Matthew 22:36-38), but rather in His love (1 John 4:19).

I need to know, really deep down know, that He loves me. I need that today a hundred times.

pick-up ball

The. Monk

Not your normal Simpson

This is the kind of stuff I like these days. Not stuff that challenges (or even supports) the existence of God, or whether Jesus was who he said he was, or did he rise from the dead, but rather thoughts that challenge my paradigm of this Jesus Christ.

Today I read this.
And here is a bit more that is good for me to mull over and share.

Coming to the Bible with an a priori understanding of who God is and how God works that is the product of my cultural and personal influences, my spiritual and moral intuitions, my experiences and observations of the world around me, my deepest emotional and psychological needs, my religious community, and, hopefully, divine inspiration, I then underline, interpret, and even overlook various passages in accordance with that understanding, believing that God is pleased to guide me in that process as a form of divine communication.

We Christians have always done that, of course, whether or not we admit it. Those of us who once owned slaves confidently underlined one set of Bible passages, while those who worked to abolish slavery just as eagerly underlined another, very different, and each side interpreted away or ignored every Bible passage which contradicted their paradigm of God. For better and worse these divine paradigms, whether consciously or unconsciously adopted, have always determined the way we read the Bible on issues like capital punishment, war, the role of women, economic justice, divorce, and gay marriage, not to mention the essential character of Jesus.

Boy, sure would be great to read the whole of God's words and press into Him for what He would like me to hear. This is a very, very exciting thought for me. Have I heard the Father's voice on gay marriage, war, or the minor issue of who He is? Jesus' voice. Not the local Sunday morning speaker guy, not a book on the subject, not a friend, not the tv - so that I can make an informed, logical conclusion. And not that God doesn't speak in these places because He does. But, with these issues...

have I...heard Jesus...speak to me?

I have an easy answer (for me) on this one and it is certainly NO. For the most part I haven't even really asked the questions. Again, not that the Lord even needs me to ask to provide an answer, but I haven't sought Him on many issues. Strange for one who would call himself a Christ follower, but true.

If I felt inclined to strive, yesterday I was given a picture of what would be good to strive for. And the picture is in this question. What would it look like if someone in Africa found a Bible and had no preconceived notions of the Christianity we see on a daily basis? Then read the book and said, "This I believe." "I'd like to know this fella Jesus and I can because I believe he is alive." What would that look like? That sounds like a pretty great way to know Jesus.

I feel like I am being stripped of these add-ons that insulate me from the foundational relationship I desire with God. It's fantastic. Hopefully I'll find myself in Africa soon picking up the Bible for the first time. Wouldn't that be incredible.

high hopes

I have really high hopes. Especially around being a Dad.
Today, this trailer put some of my hopes on film.
This may be the first movie in quite a while to which I'll go to the theater.
I have really high hopes for this film.
I have really high hopes for being a Dad.

bits and pieces

I am not from Texas. Nor do I expect I ever will be. But I really really like this song by Mr. Lovett. "That's Right (You're Not From Texas)" (Or 저것은 너가 택사스에서 이지 않는 권리 이다 as they like to say in Korea.) He is from Texas. And an Aggie as I hear. Sure do wish I could post it here so you could enjoy it as I do.

A River Runs Through It. What a fantastic bunch of words and sentences this turned out to be.

I learned something about me this week. I am an experimentalist. But I compare myself to conceptualists. That has not worked out well for me.

People that talk in 3rd person produce two distinct results in me. They either crack me up or annoy endlessly. I am especially humored when they are not famous. For instance, an aunt. Wife and I have at least one such person.

I would like to have a secretary. Or business manager. Or lackey. And a new pair of running shoes.

We're a hotbed.

If you didn't know, Ohio, specifically southwest Ohio is a hotbed of high school athletics and according to some, in the top 5 nationally for its high school hoops. For those of you that care about left coast athletics, our formerly local O.J. Mayo is heading out to Southern Cal to play a year of ball before jumping to the first pick in the NBA draft ('08 version). Many are saying he's the best to come out since LeBron.

Well, a buddy forwarded this article on to me. I love the ridiculousness of it all. It's fantastic. And look for USC to make a run at the national title next year.

I don't get it

It is NC2A tourney time again and for the 3rd straight year I have not filled out a bracket. I may never fill one out again. And I love it. There is no wanting to be right that consumes my brain, which leaves me free to cheer for who I want. And if I want to switch allegiances in the middle of a game, so be it. It's great.

However, I was watching the scoreboard at ESPN dot com today and noticed two strange occurrences. Now I am no longer an expert on the tournament, so maybe there is a good explanation. But, I am well versed in US geography, so....why is there a tournament site for the west region in Buffalo, NY? And why an east region site in Sacramento, CA.

It seems much like the time change to me, arbitrary.

brains are weird

I continue to find the human body more and more interesting. My relationship with God aside, I have a tough time buying into evolution. The intricacies of the body are just too great for me to do anything but chuck this theory as a legitimate explanation of what I see in the mirror. Every time I see the inner workings of the eye, or muscle structure of a leg, or heart, basically anything I learned in 5th grade science, I am amazed. Truly amazed. The complexity and balance and perfection of it all astounds me.

And then there is the brain. Woooeeee. Take a look at the picture below. Specifically boxes A and B.


Now get this. They are the same color. True. They are exactly the same shade of gray. How confusing is that? Check the gray line covering both squares below. My brain tries to believe the line changes color but I am assured it does not.


Didn't mean to go here with this, but I have recently begun to remember how much I enjoy and appreciate art and its creator. There are times (many recently) I am astounded. Whether it is nature or man made, beauty is coming to life for me again. A desire is blossoming in me that would attempt to capture and explore more of what I see. Even some of what I think in a physical manifestation. Just this morning, early, I realized how much I miss by always living through the same hours day after day. There are sounds and smells and sights I often don't see because I'm asleep. I see a simple beauty that sings in the stillness. If there has ever been anything that has called me to wake up early, this is one of the most seductive sirens I've heard.

So here, as I was looking into the explanation of these pictures by the designer at MIT, I was delighted with the crossover I was seeing. His explanation and my experience of the Creator's world found common ground. I feel like the LORD is revealing light and dark in me. And judgement. So what does this explanation shout out to me?

The first trick is based on local contrast. In shadow or not, a check that is lighter than its neighboring checks is probably lighter than average, and vice versa. In the figure, the light check in shadow is surrounded by darker checks. Thus, even though the check is physically dark, it is light when compared to its neighbors. The dark checks outside the shadow, conversely, are surrounded by lighter checks, so they look dark by comparison.

Do I play the comparison game? Yep. Certainly not proud of it, but I certainly do it.

And then this. I don't know that there's much for me to add.

As with many so-called illusions, this effect really demonstrates the success rather than the failure of the visual system. The visual system is not very good at being a physical light meter, but that is not its purpose. The important task is to break the image information down into meaningful components, and thereby perceive the nature of the objects in view.

My eyes are only as good as what the LORD reveals to me. I apologize for the continued use of the word "amazed" but I am. I am amazed at how He pulls from the stuff I see everyday to lead me where he wants me to go.

I am mystified at how this world is so fantastically connected. Father, keep showing me the good stuff. Back up the truck. I do love it.

SAT type analogy

Wife is to the weather channel as I am to SportsCenter.

** New ** Research says "yes"

There is a new research study that says the answer is yes.
Thanks for visiting. Hope that was helpful for you.



Right, right, the question: "Could Where You Live Affect Heart Health?"

Now that's a good way to get my attention. Thank you newspaper people for shocking me once again into reading something I already knew. These shock headlines annoy when they don't reflect the content of an article. Especially when the link headline is different than the actual article headline. It works, I read it, but it's annoying and makes me not want to trust you in the future.

It turns out there are particular states that have higher rates of heart trouble. So does the state determine that? Or education and diet determine that? Just asking. "Several of the states with the highest heart disease rates lie in a swath of Southeastern states known for high-fat diets." Uhhh, yeah, that's what I thought.

But here is what really struck me, even before I clicked on the link "Could Where You Live Affect Heart Health?" The answer I heard to the question was, "Yes." It's funny that I've been learning about this and then a USA Today headline catches my attention to lead me back there. And then here's where I went.

Where do I live? In bitterness? In judgement and condemnation? In jealousy? In unforgiveness? Yeah, I live there some. More than I even recognize. BUT, it's being revealed more and more. Which is disturbing...but good.

I'm in the process of moving but I've got lots of luggage still at the old place. And it's hidden away in a maze of closets I can't even find. The light hasn't been very good over there so I often don't see my bags. But I'm learning to pull them out when the light comes on. And I can't even turn the lights on myself. I guess it's good that I've at least learned that I'm no electrician, which saves me some heartache.

Simply, this is what I hear about this place. IT'S NOT GOOD.

I'd like to get on over to the new place. Forgiveness. Grace. Humility. Joy. It seems to be a pretty well lit place. Skylights and big, tall windows with a great view. There's even loot over there. You'd think I'd enjoy this place more, even out of selfishness, but I find myself at the old address frequently. Probably out of habit. (I really think there's more to it than that.) But it reminds me of Paul (Romans 7).

"The new survey, [the lead author] says, supplies the estimated prevalence of people 'actually living with heart disease.'" Yeah, funny thing though, how alive can I really be with this heart disease I'm speaking of? And I'd guess this heart disease is pretty rampant. Too bad an EKG won't diagnose this.

Could Where You Live Affect Heart Health?
Yes, I agree with this research.

Are you kidding?

I don't even know what to say about this. My brain is shutting down.

Tagline: There are 40 million sheep in New Zealand...and they're pissed off!

The final 5

What I'm about to say does not apply to the NBA All-Star game. It sucks. Bad. And there is nothing that the low to mid-level consumer can do to increase the entertainment value above high school girls hoops.



It may not apply to "your" team. But it should until tournament games start or if you hate the team wearing different colored uniforms. This is best used for good teams that you have no real interest in but as you'll see, works best for good GAMES.

I have realized how great basketball on tv is, IF watched appropriately. Basketball on the television drags for me. I tend to flip a lot when I'm watching games, so it's good that there are often 4 or more games on at a time. This applies to any level of tv ball. And this soon to be revealed method will come in mighty handy for all of us come the first weekend of the NC2A tourney. The patch, as PC users call it, would strike fear in the hearts of advertisers should they be made aware of its (correct use of the apostropheless "its" - and "its" is a funny looking word isn't it) genius.

We all should know by now that a large lead early, say 17-2, often means nothing when two competing teams are of similar stock. The 15 points are almost meaningless. Match ups change, foul trouble manifests, a team gets hot or cold, strategies change, and typically, the lead is chipped into over the next 30ish minutes to tighten the contest to a one to two possession game. This is often achieved by the last 5 minutes of the the allotted time of said leagues rules.

So get out your notepads. Here's how this works.

The goal: Don't start watching the GAME until there are approximately 5 minutes left in regulation.

Step 1 - Based on the start time, calculate at what time the last 5 minutes will be played.
Step 1 (alternate scenario) - If you accidentally stumble across a game, calculate at what time the last 5 minutes will be played.
Step 1a - Change the channel.

Step 1a is of great importance to the soundness of this maneuver. If you find yourself watching the game in the early minutes, for the love of humanity CHANGE the channel.

Step 2 - Check the progress of your game and recalculate.
Step 2a - Change the channel.

This is a finesse move that requires practice and discipline. For the newbie, it may be good to set the timer on your watch, stove or high end coffee maker for 15 seconds so as not to get sucked in. This "sucked in" phenomenon is a real and legitimate threat to the proper execution of Step 2. You have been warned.

Step 3 - Repeat Step 2 and 2a so as not to miss the final 5 minutes.

If you find you yourself repeating Step 2 and 2a, without the digital minutes changing on the game clock, do not be deceived, you ARE watching the whole game. And muting the game does not work. This has been thoroughly tested and has repeatedly been shown to be a miserable failure as an alternative method.

Step 4 - Enjoy the "Final 5."

Assuming there has been proper execution of Steps 1-3, Step 4 is cake. This is your reward. If you have missed anywhere up to the final 150 seconds, don't be concerned, there is still a good fifteen minutes of basketball left to play. But this is your time. Enjoy this, you are getting the good stuff.

And that's it.

Let's walk through some of the major benefits.
- Your significant others will be pleased at the free time and peace of mind you have, as well as the minimized times of Neanderthal action directed at "your" team. (By the way, neither the coach nor the players can hear you.)

- If the game does turn into a blowout, you have wasted no time on a stinker of a game. And if you have applied this method to "your" team you have saved yourself much grief and anxiety. In this situation, if "your" team happens to be the dominator, you have missed the destruction of a hated team. I will say a prayer for your loss. But rejoice in the final 5. However, my research has shown that the odds of a blowout in a rival game are less than 3.5%. So chances are good this will not happen to "your" team.

- Overtime games are the perfect fit for this skilled approach to tv basketball.
Example 1 - The recent Texas-Texas A&M, double overtime game is a prime exhibition of this approach. Down four with fourteen seconds left what does A&M do? Tie it up , we're going to overtime.
Example 2 - The recent Cavs-Mavs game. With Cleveland down fourteen to 13 wins in a row Dallas and 6:02 left, the game is over. SO over. Uhhh, no it's not, we covered that. Lead cut to three with 41 seconds left. Down to the wire as LeBron misses two free throws and two good looks at a 3 that would have sent it to overtime. (And I'll say it here again, LeBron MUST start hitting free throws for Cleveland to advance in the playoffs.)

All anyone really wants to see is the final 5 plus the overtime. A mini-version of the "Final 5" can be applied during bonus time, known to those in the...know, called the "mini-Final 5" or the "Final 1." It is risky, but can can be applied by veterans of the "Final 5."

- Sometimes you reap the benefits of networks having met their commercial quota and you are kept live on air to watch the players and coaches stand around in a tight huddle while you can hear nothing. Your imagination runs wild about all the scribbling of Xs and Os on the dry erase board. And the encouragement by Coach, it's still ringing in my imagination. All the while uninterrupted by adds for life changing products and services. Exhilarating if you ask this man.

- If you feel as though you may have missed an amazing highlight, they can often be seen on ESPN's Sports Center or at ESPN's online gathering place.

But don't be discouraged. If you invite me over to your place to watch "your" team play an entire game of hoops, chances are high I will come (chances are high I will come over if invited for any reason). And I will not feel the need to flip. You are in control and I am ok with that.

Actually, no, I will not say a prayer for your loss. And there was no actual research done in preparation of rolling out the "Final 5." All stats contained herein are based on...not much.

Sweet Google

I am an unpaid spokesman for this, but the Google suite of products is sweet.

You may already be well aware of this good news, but I have recently become a fan of the personalized Google homepage and extries. I can:
manage my G(oogle)mail email from there
keep an online calendar
get online space for pictures
peruse the news of my choice from numerous different sources
receive daily Calvin and Hobbes
track the weather
get photos of the day
try famous optical illusions
check current moon phase
play Pacman and/or Frogger
use the currency converter
stare blankly at daily cat pictures
try new recipes
get my horoscope or yours

Really anything I want within reason. And it's all free for me.

The calendar is fantastic bombastic. Since it is online, wife can get in and add stuff from wherever she wants so that I don't miss stuff that she tells me. Occasionally I delete stuff on the planner in my head.

I can put lots and lots of pictures (and maybe movies) online so that the world or just friends can see. This is great news for me since I have no family within 4 hours and they are now able to substitute the computer images for the real thing. Great, no? Intermittently they do come for a close up view.

So check it out. It has proved useful. Google dot com, top right, "personalized homepage."

not impressed

This is past due, but I was not impressed with the SuperBowl halftime show. Why is the artist formerly known as the artist formerly known as Prince chosen by the NFL powers to entertain the millions that watch the intermission act? How many other people would I have rather seen? Lots. And I think I could fairly easily find somebody that most others would deem suitable. Prince just is not one of them. Last year's Rolling Stones were not either. The NFL has not done well the last two years.

I do enjoy hearing his "1999" or any other song that refers to a year or decade that is long past. I just remember thinking how far out there 1999 was and now it's 8 years ago. Funny/ weird.

I am really only writing so that I can load this next creation of mine. I made it a few weeks ago when I made up tuxedo t-shirt Jesus. You can make your own at some website that I can't find anymore. This is my recollection of him as he was on stage at halftime.

What now?

KT and I watched Hotel Rwanda this weekend. I have already recommended this film to a few people and now I am recommending it to you. Unbelievable story. Really, almost not believable. Yet, I know where I live, and so it is believable and heartbreaking because it really happened. In a pistachio sized nutshell, an assistant hotel manager helps to save 1200+ refugees during the genocide of over a million Rwandan Tutsis in 1994.

It's been a long time since I've been this tense watching a movie. Horror movie tense. Or roller coaster tense. Not because it was a jump out and scare you type like Psycho, but because of the gravity and reality of the situation.

I am starting to wrestle with my frustration towards the inaction I was feeling during the movie. Why didn't somebody do something? And why, at the time, did the media ignore it? I remember very little about it in 1994, and wonder if what I do remember I actually heard later. Probably. (I just found out today there is a new movie about the Rwandan genocide releasing soon, Beyond the Gates.) This is also the tragedy that helped launch IJM.

Hotel Rwanda has a scene where the main character is thanking a journalist that has shot footage of the massacres happening. Here's the line that really struck me (spoken by the journalist), "I think if people see this footage, they'll say 'Oh, my God, that's horrible.' And then they'll go on eating their dinners." Yep, that sounds about right.

So that was Saturday night. Sunday afternoon, KT and I are walking out of Dick's and I am passed by a van in the parking lot. After a second look I realize it says "Invisible Children" on the side. This is a documentary I have recently been made aware of about a similar thing happening in Uganda. I heard of it a couple months ago. So I went over and introduced myself to the van's inhabitants. Short story shorter, they are in town doing screenings and gave me a copy of the movie. So Invisible Children is now on the short short list. Like, next.

Last night, I'm talking with Mom and she says, "Oh yeah, you need to see Lost Boys of Sudan."

OK, OK, so I get it. There's a lot of stuff going on in central Africa I don't like. What is so frustrating is, what now?

What do I think about intervention in that situation from a political standpoint? Does that even matter?

Do I pray? Do I just wait for God to tell me what to do? Do I just give somebody some money? My time? Do I go to Rwanda or Uganda or Sudan? Do I write my representative and senator and president? Do I run for representative or senator or president?

I'm not even sure I know the right questions to ask. All I have at this time is, "What now?"

Apparently C. S. Lewis' The Screwtape Letters, is bound for the big screen. I'm not sure what to think about this. I read the book recently and enjoyed it but can't really picture it as a movie. Perhaps that's why I don't currently work in Hollywood. I also don't live near there, so that makes it hard as well.

I suppose I am looking forward to seeing it if only to see how it's brought to life. But unlike the Lord of the Rings or Chronicles of Narnia, it is not (at least from memory) a very picturesque story. As the title suggests, it really is just a series of letters from an uncle to a nephew. However, it did throw some light on dark places I don't like to talk about. Maybe I'll read it again this weekend. It is short. My guess is there will be significant creative license wielded with this film.

So my advice to the movie makers: don't screw it up.

I like your hair.

I was watching the end of the Cavs-Lakers game yesterday. Cleveland won, despite Kobe Bryant's valiant attempt to repeatedly beat the triple team defense played down the stretch. That made me happy. Just happy. Look at him, isn't there something in you that is pleased with this grimace?

I do like this Anderson Verajao fella. 6-10 and he can take you to the hole. And that hair is so good. Reminds me of me back in the college days. The hair part and me taking you to the hole.

I like the Cavs, however, they will not go deep into the playoffs if they don't start knocking down their free throws. The team is shooting 69%. That won't get it done. Especially LeBron at 68%. How can he shoot 33% behind the arc and 68% from the stripe. Ilgauskas is even shooting north of 75%. Smells like a quick exit to me.

Speaking of bad, my wife's Celts have done a fine job of tanking. And put themselves in good position to make a run at Greg Oden or Kevin Durant. 12 wins in 50 attempts, are they even trying? Did they hire Isaiah as a consultant? 18 craps in a row. They are not just horrible, but HORRIBLE.

So I see this guy Vladimir Radmanovic. Apparently he's been in the league for 5 years. New to me. I am immediately reminded of Kurt Rambis. "Look, it's the new Kurt Rambis," I say, either in my head or out loud. I know Vlad is Eastern European but it's new school. New School.

Baby Jesus Powers

Saw Talladega Nights recently and had high hopes, knowing full well it could never live up to them. Of course the folks KT and I watched it with thought it was a top fiver, so naturally I feigned agreement. Not in my top 5 folks. However I thoroughly enjoyed the prayer at the dinner table. I'm not trying to be nasty but thought I could see a Kenneth Copeland type sitting in Ricky Bobby's chair. This will be a well spent 3 minutes and 4 seconds whether you've seen the film or not.



I have to let you know that after this madness, Walker encouraged his Dad with this treasure, "you made that grace your bitch." Precious.

So why do I find this funny? Other than because it pokes fun at the things that need poking.

Maybe it's more sad and disturbing than funny. I often laugh in the wrong situations because I don't know how to react. The uncomfortable laugh, you know? I think because I have done the same thing. Lots. Except my Jesus wears a turban and sits on a flying rug and only comes out when I rub his belly the right way. Then he'll do what I want. Certainly I know what I need. Or sometimes he's not on the rug, but rather way at the top of some snowy Nepalese mountain. And I have to climb along a goat trail through briers and over boulders, passing through the right checkpoints just to get to him. Finally, when I do I'm just hoping all the stamps I got in my passport and the crap climb I made was worth it. And here's the foolishness of what I do. "Whew, so I've got a question." or "What's the one thing I've been missing?" or "Tell me what to do now." "Can I get some help with this?" or "I need to do something for you to show you how much what you did means. Any ideas?"

Traps, and the list goes on. But this last one is sneaky nasty. I'm trying to get close to equal footing. Not expecting equal-equal, I mean He is God, but isn't there something I can do? Extra credit maybe? I don't really believe that...but sorta, sometimes. There is something in me that is big time against being indebted. But the funny thing is, as big as the price was, there isn't a debt that's being held. "Hey kid, how about just take it." And here's what else I hear, "and I've got more where that came from." It's not like one bank bought the mortgage from another. And now it just has a different payment address.

Less and less do I think that way but years like bricks can build a prison. Thankfully He is throwing open doors for me and I'm just needing to walk through them. Apparently He has the keys.

Galatians 5 says, It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.

That sounds really...really...really good. Like I'm getting away with something.

"You mean I can just walk out?"
"Yep."
"Well let me get some things in order."
"Nah, I'll deal with that. How about we get some dinner."
"Well gosh, I haven't had a good meal in some time, but don't you need me to do something?"
"How about nothing. I've got some good stuff planned but how about we just hang right now."

That's what I feel like today. We're just sorta hangin'. Remember Hangin' with Mr. Cooper? Well I'm hangin' with God. There is some real relationship He wants. Really the same thing I want, I just never knew it. And I forget quickly when old habits come calling. But I've been hearing about fathering and shepherding and receiving. It all sounds quite good, and it's certainly a different picture than what I'd grown accustomed to. There is seeking, and there are promises, but there is also relationship. Real relationship. Living relationship. Today. I'm finally seeing the good news. Not just a ticket on the salvation train but the astounding news that the creator of the universe wants to know me. Little me.

Today.

**********************************************************

I've got lots to unpack. So I'll be back here again. Soon I hope.


This feels really out of place now, and probably isn't the time for it, but here is my rendition of Cal's Jesus.

Huh, really?

I saw this headline as a top story on the Enquirer. Man hurt driving into brick wall

Really, that is very surprising. Thanks local news, you were very helpful today.

one of my favorites

A River Runs Through It was recommended to me today. So I have it on reserve at the library because I trust this particular recommender. I've seen the movie but we all know movies and books are different and it's been years since I've seen it. Anyway, ever since I saw the film, it has become associated with my good friend Empy. He once told me a story (via email) that I have saved for these types of moments. It is from awhile back but I was reminded of it today. I love it and wish it was my own, but I live vicariously and tell it to others on his behalf. This really is one of my favorites.

Ah, my young friend, you have heard yet another of my pike stories, but not the greatest one.

Let me introduce the characters. Me, Empy. Fetz. Ball. Jack. Jack's real name was John, but I decided to call him Jack.

Where are we? Saranac. Young Life property in the Adirondacks, NY, on Upper Saranac Lake. It's late May--still chilly at the 'nac.

We had a beat up yellow pick-up that you could shift without pushing in the clutch. Our job was to use tools, specifically, pitchforks, to shovel up pine needles in the wading beach. Not ones that washed up on the beach, mind you. Ones that were under water. You have to trust me on this, pitchforks are the only way to get those things out. Not very efficient, but better than shovel/hands/anything else you can think of.

The four of us spent the better part of our day in the water (with waders/wetsuits on), getting small amounts of pine needles on our pitchforks and hauling them onto the beach where we dumped them in the back of the pickup.

At this time of year in the 'nac the shallow water is just starting to warm up--but it's still butt-cold. But the warm(er) water attracts schools of yellow perch--literally hundreds of them would be swimming around us.

Now, you don't have to be a rocket scientist to figure out my math. Pitchfork + Schools of perch = Fun. We all would just jab our pitchfork at the perch, and inevitably one (or two) would get stuck on the tines, which you would lift out of the water in triumph. A few fish got impaled on sticks and were left on the beach as a warning to...I don't remember who it was a warning to. It was probably just to show how cool we were because we could stab fish, and got to do it while other people were scrubbing toilets with toothbrushes, weeding, etc.

Well, by the end of the day we had made some good progress with the pine needles, and had a full truck load that we needed to go dump. We were all pretty damn proud of ourselves. Since the pick-up only had room for two people in the cab, I hopped up on the back...

And that's when I saw him. Not 30 feet from shore was the shadow of a great fish--a Great Northern Pike. And it was a big one. Apparently warm water attracted perch, which attracted NOT ONLY boys with pitchforks but also giant pike, who evidently liked to eat the perch. Perhaps this one was attracted by the carnage that had taken place earlier.

It was one of those times that I was incredibly excited and yet incredibly frustrated. I pointed the pike out to all of the guys, and we all stared in amazement, but what were we going to do? I decided that, out of desperation, I was going to fling my pitchfork at the pike, knowing deep in my heart that I would miss, the fish would swim away, and our glorious day filled with massacre and amazement would leave a bittersweet taste in all of our respective mouth's.

That's when Ball spoke. "DON'T", he yelled as I raised the pitchfork in the air. Shocked, I watched Ball grab his own pitchfork and begin wading into the water after the beast, like a man trudging off to war. Stunned, I watched on, knowing in my heart that the only thing less likely to work than me flinging the pitchfork like a javelin was trying to sneak up the animal.

But the animal didn't move. Ball is 10 feet away. Still hasn't moved. 5 feet away. Still hasn't moved. Finally he sidles right up next to the great pike. In retrospect, we all decided that the fish didn't move because it was planning on eating Ball. It was that big.

Ball raised his weapon in the air, and then used the force of gravity combined with all the strength in his arms to impale the fish. The great contest of man versus beast had been decided at last. Man had won.

Or so we thought. Leave it to man to have the quarry in his grasp, and then allow something--pride, forgetfulness, fear--to let it get away. For as quickly as Ball had speared the leviathan, he raised his pitchfork in triumph, as we had all afternoon during the Perch Massacre. During the early battles the perch had emerged, unmoving, stuck on the tool. But the weight of this new species caused it slide off the tines, back into the water. The fish, understandably stunned, paused for a brief moment. Ball froze. We all froze. But, like all eternal moments, this one thawed, and the angry beast violently thrashed its tail and swam at terrifying speeds, with the orientation of a drunk driver, away from the beach at out into the depths.

I wish I could provide a poetic conclusion to what had happened, but I can't. The four men and one fish that were there that day know what happened, but that doesn't mean they can understand it. We finished up our work, loaded ourselves into the truck, and drove away, back into the world where fish and men don't interact, let alone wage war. We had to turn on the windshield wipers, as it was starting to rain.

Epilogue: A few days later I was making small-talk with the checkout lady at a nearby store, a purveyor of soda, smokes, and porn, as well as a place you can get your fish weighed. I brought up pike fishing. She said that the other day someone had brought in a 40-incher. I wanted to ask if it had puncture wounds in its side.

Word of the Year

I heard recently that "Pluto" won Word of the Year. I don't buy it. But I kind of like it.

I'm looking for a chance to use it. Maybe during the SuperBowl. I think I should be saying, "If Jake Plummer hadn't been plutoed (meaning demoted) the Broncos might be playing tonight." But I'm not diggin' it. I'll use it more like, "Man, did you see that? Urlacher just plutoed Manning."

Speaking of the game, I'm not much on predictions but I sure would like to see the Colts take this one. I can't think of a guy on that team I don't like. And they are exciting to watch. I could say the same for the Bears except they are unquestionably NOT exciting to watch.

We're watching the game with friends, and I'm becoming a big fan of spending my free time in this fashion. Not watching tv, but rather with people. (stream of consciousness: oftentimes I feel tv is like a chain, the kind that is connected to the anchor of a big ol' cruise ship, and I've got it slung around my neck. So who wouldn't throw it off? Well see, it's been glazed like a Krispy Creme doughnut, so I leave it on and just lick the sugar off the iron.) However I'm mucho tired-o of surfaceyness. I suppose it is congenial and convenient, but I am starting (at least trying) to avoid conversations/people where the same thing is said, every time, out of compulsion. Can't you just be nice? Yes, yes I will, but I'm not gonna like it.

Am I the only one that has these conversations? After the pleasantries, there is much standing around, and uncomfortableness if you ask me. Maybe I'm selfish but sometimes I don't want to work at this conversation. Or know what is going on with you. Want it straight, I don't really like being around you all that much. Sorry, but that's where I am right now.

I want depth, or at least a deep area to dive into. I feel like I'm wading into a great, deep pool and I'm playing Marco Polo. As the water is rising I can tell I'm headed toward the deep end but the responses to my "Marco" are mostly behind me, in the "No Diving" end. It feels like most "Polos" are right near the edge of the pool so they can cheat and jump out if I get too close. And I'm not saying they are shallow, just our relationship. Granted, there are some "Polos" I'm not chasing in the shallow end or the deep end, but I think that's ok. But maybe I hear so many at the 3 foot end because the deep end takes some work. Or maybe they're just in the shallow end of my pool.

I'll guess at times it feels like treading water, but I'm hoping the deep end of the pool opens up to the ocean where I hear "Polo." What a great game that would be.

lunch activities

My lunches are usually filled with the wonder of the World Wide Web. I'm sure there is a better use of the time but currently this is it. I have a buddy that used to tell me sometimes he felt like going to the movies just for the previews and then leaving. At the time I thought that was ridiculous but have found myself watching the trailers at Apple. It's great, I get to watch 12 movies at a time but only commit 20 minutes.

Anyway, today is a bit different, smarco calls me from Perfect North ski slopes. We've done this before but it's still well worth my lunch break. See they have webcams. So he wanders out in front of these things and I try to figure out which indistinguishable blob he is. Ahhh yes, they all look the same. Sort of like Where's Waldo.

"I'm standing by the such and such...a kid just skied by me that looks like spiderman ...I'm waving." Right, gotcha. "Did you see me just kick a snowball?" "Uhhh, no, you're...an eighth of an inch tall. Seriously, I just measured."

See you next January small smarco.