Merry Christmas!

though my santa was a little more delayed than the last couple of years, i still got it in before the big day. i'm not sure how i feel about this one. but i am proud of my fire work. basically, what i'm trying to say is give the man his cookies. he's earned them. don't give him vegatables, please just don't do that.

holiday cheer?

i'm diligently working to get this last week of school under my belt successfully. actually, the fact that i'm writing this right now probably casts much doubt upon the merit of my diligence. a truly diligent man would not be updating his sorely neglected blog whilst drowning in a sea of scholarly endeavors. he would need all of his energy to keep him afloat, to keep his increasingly scattered head above water in the hopes that something might swoop in to rescue him.

the purpose of this post is simply to question the people at sprint. what are they doing with santa, nay, to santa?

please follow this link but be warned that you might be freaked out by what you see: holiday abomination

now, sprint has made santa into a malnourished, ill-fashioned, albino-tool with a beard and self-issued "hip-hop-street-cred" that makes me hate the whole concept of santa, who was not meant to be a weaselly trust fund recipient with too much time for leisure but a diligent and benevolent toy craftsmen and a kind and efficient manager of adorable elves. santa should be full of love, hope, generosity, ridiculous cheer and equal parts milk & cookies.

santa's clothing should be a bit of a squeeze for him because he is a little heavy and intends to go on a diet. his pants should not be tight because they were made for women. i do not want and the world does not need an emo santa who can be described with the word uber (please insert two dots above the u, or is it the e).

this blatant abuse of santa bugs me because christmas has been so terribly distorted into something that irks me. though santa has seemingly replaced the birth of Christ as christmas's central theme, the roots of his lore are decent and kind of comforting. the real santa didn't seem to have time to golf or pursue his dj dreams, which i can only assume will flounder epically, but was trying to bless other people.

where has substance gone? can we please lead lives that matter again? the world needs fat santas again that genuinely work towards the good, not merely a good time. looking at ourselves makes us empty and skinny. caring about others fattens us up. if there was ever a time that we actually needed fat, it is now (metaphorically of course: be more sensible in food and exercise for a healthy life). keep an eye out for my annual santa paint production (i'll take suggestions).

the .two

since the shack, almost everyone i know has asked me about multnomah falls. "have you seen it?" "have you been there?" "did you read that book?" "i heard a native american woman jumped off it, is that true?"and so on and so forth. well, you can all back off. this past weekend i hiked all around multnomah falls. here it is in all its splendor.

here is a bonus view from the top, looking down.

now, you may be asking yourself: how did tim get up there? well, i'll gladly answer you: he hiked up there. after that, you may be asking yourself this: isn't tim in terrible shape? well yes, i am in terrible shape. how did this happen?

one fateful day, one of my roommates asked if i wanted to go hiking. i did and decided to go. we were going to go with his 47 year old brother. i figured i'd be safe then. he couldn't do too much, he's 47 afterall. well, i'm an idiot. here is a picture that proves i am an idiot and shows one of the 5 or so waterfalls i saw and what i feel is a decent beard:

you see, chris's brother is working on getting into climbing shape for the spring when he climbs mt. hood again. thus, he was in much better shape than i was hoping he would be. i'm in shape if you count round.

this man led the way: head down, plowing forth. i kept up. we did somewhere like 5.2 miles or so i was told. though, i think it might have been more if the simple math i did was correct. he kept throwing distances at me and i swear they added up to something more like 11.2 miles. either way, there was definitely a .2 involved. if life has taught me anything, it is always the .2 that gets you. the .2 makes your butt hurt, your lower back hurt and basically your entire being hurt.

there always seems to be a little extra that you don't think you can do. typically you can. a lot of the time you don't have a 47-year old man to drive you along. but, you do need somebody or somebodies to push you, to hold you accountable, to be a part of your life. hiking alone is silly.

if there is one thing i am learning out here, it is that having people you care about is precious. i've got a lot of friends, a lot of people i know, that are struggling with life right now. to a degree i am one of them. it sucks to feel like you've got nothing that inspires you, that gives you satisfaction or that you love doing.

we need people. they need us. we weren't meant to live alone, to struggle alone, to be happy alone. as i've read through the old and new testaments these last few months, community has shouted loudest in the text, in God's word. i feel like we need to reach out. living alone is silly.


God is in nature communal. He is trinitarian. He is within a divine community in essence. God is three in one (any attempt i've made to explain this further falls short of that simple truth). what is rediculous is that we are not only invited into the Trinity, Jesus himself prays that we will engage with that fellowship in john 17.

i need to grab a hold of this perspective. i need to realize the value of the offer out on the table. how amazing it is that God wants us. in Christ, we have amazing things in our possession and still more amazing things to come. if you don't believe me, read through the first three chapters of ephesians and hear what this relationship with God does in the believer's life.in the attempts to pursue whatever the heck we are pursuing, we can lose sight of what we can have and what we do have.

in the exhaustion of the hike, when the extra .2 has sucked all the oxygen from your lungs, let those people around you keep you going. in doing so, you'll help them too. i think that as we learn to do that we start to learn more about what it means to be in community with the God that loves us so deeply. i'll leave you with a picture of a place made for thinking way too deep about life.

holy ink

recently a friend of mine lost her pen, one of her two favorites, and it happened when i was with her. she got this pen when she graduated from college, from the college. it was a sentimentally unique pen and a solid writing pen with pine cones that fell from a tree. the loss made her a bit sad. i'm not sure if it was my fault, possibly was in a strange church + bag incident, but i took it upon myself to get a new one.

so, i emailed the alumni association of her college. here are a few excerpts from my initial email, where i unashamedly begged for a pen from a guy named tad (i used his name a lot in the email):
"Tad, I know that sometimes our jobs can get wrapped up in the mundane and the thankless tasks, then we can begin to wonder if we are making a difference. This is your chance to know you have blessed the life of one of your own, a fellow pirate out in the world."
&
"I cannot do this without you, Tad. I also understand that your life and job have much more important duties to undertake but this is an opportunity for something epic and heroic, if I may really stretch the meaning of those words."

i received an email back from another member of the alumni association, Kim, with good news:
"I'm going to put a pen in the mail to you today so that you can bring a smile to her face as she watches the pine cone fall over and over again!"

alright, now i was excited. the pen was on its way, thus i replied. again, a sampling:
"I had a good feeling about you good people, Kim. You've given me a new perspective on pirates. No longer are they mindless plunderers simply out for themselves. Nay, pirates are charitable lovers of life with hearts of amazing capacity."
&
"Thank you for this kindness. You Kim, if I may use a word I recently heard a rambunctious teen utter just yesterday, rock."

i waited patiently and on one rainy day in portland the sun broke through the clouds. a thick envelope, jammed quite unlovingly into my tiny mailbox by a surely disgruntled undergrad postal worker, was revealed when i opened the small mail door. with all my might, i maneuvered and navigated the envelope into my hands, opening it to find the pen i had sought and a bonus pen (though this bonus pen did not contain the novelty of its travelling companion, it was a nice addition).

proudly, i give the pen to my friend. she is happy to have it, grateful as well. way to go me. i felt a small bit of satisfaction. then the story of my life unfolds in all its comedic tragedy.

the pen does not write.

what? she gets a few sentences out of it. after that, she can only scratch her words onto the paper. no amount of spit or will-power can get this thing to release a drop of ink. oh, how i tried. it is now a useless pen, good only for watching pine cones fall from the tree into the waiting arms of a motionless man. that novelty only serves as a welcome distraction whilst taking notes. 'whilst' is under utilized.

this bothered me on a purely metaphorical level. even when i've done all i can do for something to succeed and go right and even when it feels like i have and it has, something falls apart that i have no control over. if it isn't obvious, i do feel something for this girl and she knows it (this is a subject i've intentionally never written about on this endeavor and i do so now with incredible hesitation and internal objection.). but i cannot make her write, so to speak. God knows what will happen with her, God knows i don't.

i just identified with this dry pen scene too much. i could make a thousand gestures and they could all come up dried-out: oh, so close to success but just a little closer to failure. but at some point they work their way out of my control. this isn't my fault, the pen. but, come on. why couldn't the pen work? where is the dang ink?

i hate that there are so may dry pens in life. it sucks that we can want something -this is about more than a girl here- and do everything right to get it, but we don't. life is so out of our control. our planning, our hard work, our wanting can all add up to a big pile of nothing with heavy parts disappointment. God then becomes the object of our anger, our disappointment, our empty hands. who else is there to blame after i get tired of blaming myself?

then, i see that my desires are all out of whack. i wanted a person, a purpose, a characteristic i don't possess, a status, a change, meaning, for my beard to be fuller on my cheeks and that spot between my soul patch and chin, and a ridiculous amount of things before i wanted to be with God. i thought that amassing all of those things would add up to a full life, a satisfied life. but as augustine said (in paraphrase): our hearts are restless until they find rest in God. our lives are empty until they are filled up with God, with Love itself, with holy ink.

deep down, i want God in everything in my life. but, i've got this habit of separating Him from a lot of things. this one hurts to write: God is not enough for me. obviously that is a subjective truth about my life that contradicts the objective truth that only God is truly enough. God is all i need: this is what i am working towards.

right now, i've got a dried up pen in a lot of areas of my life. i'm grateful for the places ink is not in short supply and i'm working on that God in everything process. i want to get to that place where i don't really care what i've got or where i am because i've got God and i'm in His arms.

wrinkled old man

yesterday in conversation, a friend told me that she just had a really quick image of me in her mind as an old man, with gray in my beard and hair and wrinkles on my face from all my smiling and laughing. that observation made me really happy. it felt like a nice compliment. that passing thought made me think about my blessed life. wrinkles from smiles and laughter are welcomed by me, gray hair too for that matter.

life is hard. there is so much with which to struggle, to doubt and to dislike. a lot lately, i've found myself unsatisfied with theology and doctrine (even though i enjoy studying them both) and pithy church sayings. more questions come in theology, each answer begging another less satisfying question. it never ends. doctrine is so diverse, i wonder how we could ever really hold to something. the speech that flows so cavalierly from believers lips can have no meaning or weight because they are simply words.

i struggle.
God loves me.

i doubt.
God loves me.

i question.
God loves me.

i yell at Him.
He loves me.

if i may... what the crap? every time, He is there. every time, i feel God loving me. every time. sometimes that love confounds me. sometimes that love comforts me. sometimes it just angers me. i cannot turn away from it, i cannot help but feel it and i cannot begin to explain it. God loves me and it doesn't make sense.

so much doesn't make sense. the christian faith is reasonable, logical and well-defended. if apologetics are what you're after, you're in luck. there is proof everywhere. truthfully, i don't know if i care about that proof. i understand it but that isn't what convinces me. God still doesn't really make sense no matter how much i try to prove that He does.

because at the end of the day, at the start for that matter, i have to wrap my mind around God loving me. most days, that seems pretty unbelievable, a skeptic's unbelief. it's glorious, but crazy. the whole gospel is that: a stumbling block, foolishness. that's where its power is, for those who do believe. that's why it works, because it shouldn't. it isn't natural: it's divine. it doesn't really make sense, but it does give life.

i'm like thomas. i doubt and question and don't believe. i want to put my hand in Jesus' side, just to know he's real. but if the chance ever came, i think that i, like him, wouldn't go through with it. i'd rather just believe. and Jesus' words to him, to me, to us - "do not disbelieve, but believe...blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed" - are why i'll have wrinkles, why i'm happy to have them. i have joy in that belief, joy which allows me to smile and laugh in the midst of complete and utter confusion.

beyond all doubt i believe deeply, in my core. i know God is there and, to steal a line from francis schaeffer, He's not silent. i know He loves me, because i've seen and felt it, not because i figured out how to manufacture it. i know He loves me because i love Him. i can never manufacture His love in me, oh how i've tried. God displays His love for me in ways i cannot explain, usually while i'm being completely petulant. His grace is sufficient, i'm actually believing that. and a subdued smile has washed over me just thinking about it. God, wrinkle me up.

scenes from escaping

i find it necessary to explore portland. the reasons are simple: i do not know it & i don't like that. my sanity alone is enough of a motivating factor to leave. books on/of God, theological conversations, worship & church can all help to convey how big this created world is, how full of grace and beauty it is & how wonderfully artistic God's speaking of creation out of nothing actually is. nothing quite helps like seeing how ridiculous God really is. i've been blessed enough to see a decent sampling of the world, some very pretty places. i'll say this for portland: it measures up fairly easily.

once you find your way outside of the city, there are places that can swallow you. they'll sneak up on you & you'll be grateful they did because you wouldn't find them otherwise. a week or so ago, a friend & i went on a drive down the columbia river valley. we went to check out a couple scenic overlooks. one of them was the vista house.

that same trip, an intentional wrong turn & 14 miles between amazing old trees took us up to larch mountain. this day was blustery and terribly wet. the cold wind blew significantly cold precipitation into our faces as we laughed and hiked to what was to be a panoramic view of no less than 5 mountains on a clear day. obviously, it was not a clear day. when we summited, if you will, shepard's peak we found ourselves delightfully miserable & content with our surroundings. we were floating on a mountain in the clouds and fog. the view was like looking at grey-painted walls. it is a good memory of being so happy to be in miserable weather.

but we decided to come back when it cleared up someday. yesterday after class, we made the trip again & reality filled in the imaginary vistas we had created. i'm not sure which trip was better. there was something nice about being the only fools to accidentally stumble upon a mountain in the bitterness of a cold & rainy day when there was nothing to see but clouds- we did get to float as we shivered. here are some pictures i took with my phone, when we could see from a couple different escapes:

vista house

point of view

some place near the vista house, of
which i cannot remember the name

a random pond by trout creek camp

shepard's peak at larch mountain

what i think is mount hood

another view from shepard's peak at larch mnt

one of the things i love most about being here is the availability to escape. it doesn't take long to find your way to some place outrageously beautiful.

laurelhurst ducks

if you would, i'd like you to imagine me spending a restful sunday afternoon seated upon a bench, overlooking laurelhurst pond (pictured above), letting the cool autumn air and the still warm sun compete for my affections as i looked out over the serene pond, a habitat for many a beautiful duck, spending their own sunday travelling back and forth, to and fro each side of the pond towards the many park-goers turned bread-tossers as the ducks filled their bellies with organic loaves of bread, organic because portlanders demand non-synthetic foods, even for their ducks- nay, especially for their ducks.


sundays are made for this. in fact, God, after 6 days of creation, no doubt sat on a cosmic bench much like mine. yet God's bench surely was much more infinite in essence, looking over the vastness of creation and ducks the likes man has never seen. what i am trying to say here, possibly & unintentionally sacrilegiously (yet hopefully not), is that the sabbath is good.

how nice it has been to simply be today.

for a few hours, i just sat calmly. i caught up with a few friends and family members also. but mainly i just sat, becoming one with the bench. while there, the two of us noticed a few things.

A) these ducks eat a lot of bread. again, these ducks eat a lot of bread. this carbo-loading led me to believe the ducks were going to be running a marathon. how adorable would that be, really: little ducks waddling and quacking for twenty-some-odd miles? adorable yes, yet it didn't seem right.

certainly, i thought to myself, ducks do not live on bread alone (wink-wink). two absurdly old women fed the ducks some type of grain, but that seemed like too much work for the ducks. they had to attempt to get these little things of grain off of the ground, which consisted mostly of small gravel. no doubt many of them ate a great deal of gravel with their grain. but outside of those two crotchety old women, they only ate bread.

B) when the bread came, no matter where it was coming from, the ducks flocked like children to an ice cream truck, children with a dollar that is. bread has a magnetic pull only affective on ducks and immigrants. there was no 'flying v' these ducks formed some type of rabid mob, intent on swiping every last crumb from their brethren. they went after those pieces of bread like kids after candy fallen from a piñata. however, i witnessed only one duck fight. they chased and quacked and flapped their wings angrily until two other ducks got in between them, breaking up the fight.

C) i enjoy watching ducks not chew. watching them choke down big hunks of bread made me feel much better about the way that i eat. yes, watching ducks eat did wonders for my self-esteem.

sadly, i could not leave my wondrous time alone. i had to reflect. i had to let the ducks eating all that bread bother me, on a metaphorical level.

as i strolled out of the park, i read a sign by the pond. basically, the sign was attempting to prevent folks from feeding bread to the ducks. apparently ducks, like people, don't live on bread alone. i don't remember exactly what the sign said, but i do remember this: bread is like cupcakes for ducks. now, initially i thought they really had it made. cupcakes, few would argue, are delicious.

i thought about it. realizing cupcakes are not a well-balanced diet in and of themselves and possibly/sadly not really a part of a well-balanced diet, i saw that we were doing the ducks a disservice. they know they can get as much bread from us as they want. ducks eat when they can, not when they are hungry. yet here we are, throwing cupcakes at them.

this bothered me, because church is like that too much. ministers throw cupcakes at people, who swallow them without every really chewing. once that minister doesn't have the right cupcakes, they swim to another one. neither of them gets what they need. they both get bloated and are of little use when it comes to fulfilling their purpose.

the church needs to go deeper than cupcakes. ministers can make them so readily available that the body forgets there is meat, vegetables and fruits- all those food pyramid things. it falls on the ministers to challenge their congregates to search and seek after God. it falls on the congregates to follow through on that challenge and to extend it back on the ministers. if the church is a body, all of its members need to follow hard after Christ.

writing this, i find myself grateful. i feel i have found a church not satisfied with the cupcakes available to us. for a while, i've wanted to be a part of a church like this, not that my church back home is content to eat cupcakes as a whole. it is a very different type of church than the one i go to in tennessee. i am sure God will shape and grow me as a part of it, however long that is.

something we need to ask ourselves and each other is whether or not we have settled ourselves into a body that is pushing each other to fuller worship, to fuller love and to fuller devotion. if we are in one that isn't, we don't necessarily have to leave. but we need to do everything we can to turn our church and ourselves back to the depth God calls us to.

man doesn't live on cupcakes alone, but on every word of God. we need substance back in our churches, speaking to us, feeding us.

i'm not sure about this one

a few days back, in class, i couldn't really pay attention. my mind just wasn't processing anything anybody had to say. any ability to operate as a student left me, i was seceding from any realm of usefulness or function.

it is in times like these, that i will reach for a trusty journal (moleskin w/ graph paper), any slip of paper or even a napkin and let my pen (typically a pilot g2-07) and the paper have a conversation. much of the time i am removed, or feel removed, from the whole thing- like a spectator. so, i've decided to write out this last one. i've also decided not to edit it at all, which i may regret. so it will pretty much just be that specific thought process, which means i'm not really sure how much i'll buy into myself. also, it is quite long. also again, i'll reflect a little on it at the end.

---------------------------

"it feels like the problem with letting people know you is that they know you. in that knowledge they begin to see you as you are- your struggles, your weaknesses, your tendencies & flaws [not that i have those], and also your strengths, your gifts, your talents and the things that bring you satisfaction [not that i have any of those either].

they begin to be a part of that cleansing God has got you in- the process of sanctification, of reflecting what, in Christ, you will one day fully be & which to a degree you already are. i've always heard sanctification as being made holy, and that is good. but it seems to be more of a realizing that you are holy. the "be holy, for I am holy" by God is as much as a charge, a command as it is an invitation, especially after Christ's life. it is Jesus inviting us to share in that holiness. He does this not just through His life, death and resurrection but also by the giving of the Spirit.

this is why Jesus spoke with his disciples of the one that is to come which is greater than he was, though they are part of the same being. Jesus, God incarnate could only be with us, living alongside us but the Spirit is in us, living through us.

if i cannot see this, if i don't believe this, if i don't embrace this, than i only have the hope which my own will can inspire. i can only cling to the hope that my will might give me life: idolatry of the will. if that were true, Christ didn't need to come, why would he have come at all? so that i could gain life myself through discipline and moral thoughts/actions? He came to ready us for His Spirit and the divine community. Christ came to purify us, show us life by the Spirit and ready us to house Love, i have to remember that God is Love.

when we accept that grace, we are holy. we are no longer just some sinner, we are a new creation. sanctification is the realization of that, it is the uncovering of years of dirt to see the pure and spotless thing we now are in Christ. it comes from the inside, because it comes from the Spirit. it burns in us, until it consumes us. the more we realize and accept it as actually being there, the more we see who we are, who God has made us through that continual and constant grace.

letting people know you is a part of that. they can see the parts of you that shine like they are supposed to. but they can see the parts we still cover in a little dirt. they can see the things you have a tendency to make filthy, because some of that filth gets on them too- by your hand or their own. they see the places that seem to find their way into the muck and mire of living, because we can pull them in with us. they can see the spots you cannot reach, the dirt you never knew you had- behind your ears, in the middle of your back.

and when you've surrounded yourself with people who long to see you spotless, not those who want you to be covered in dirt so they feel clean in comparison, they will- in gentleness and love, through prayer and compassion- help you see those areas. if you already see them, they will help push you forward towards cleansing. they will take you to the fountain and push you into it. they will help keep you from getting dirty again and if you do, they will remind you who you are, that you don't have to cover yourself with dirt anymore, that this junk isn't a part of you anymore. you are clean and there is no need to run & dive into the mud again.

they can also see where God has shined and polished you, the places that reflect what God has done the brightest. they help you realize you have that because we cannot always see that either. our eyes are so drawn to and fixated on the dirt. i am so hard on myself, so critical, so aware of my filth. but they can see your shiny spots, the reflection of the Son draws their eyes like a blinking light in the sky at night. sure there are smudges, but they can see the purest parts of you, where you have been washed and cleaned by God. you are clean under all that dirt you apply and they would do anything so you might know that.

let that dirt be washed off, let if fall down, funnel towards the drain and let it go. enjoy who you now are, let that soak in. you are clean, don't jump back into that filth just because you got used to it. this might take time, but eventually you'll realize that you don't like being dirty. maybe you have already. we cannot clean ourselves. quit trying to do that and let God do it, realize He already has- if you are cleansed by the Lamb, if that Spirit dwells in you, lives in you, He already has. just 'cease striving and know that I am God' ps 46.10"

-------------------------------

yikes. it is interesting reading your own writing & thoughts and knowing that you are in the process of putting it on the internet without filter. here are a few things or thoughts about this. i find it interesting how i went back in forth from you, we and i. this wasn't written with the intentions of publishing it. it was written to me and at me- the me now and the me to be determined later. it is also interesting to me how sanctification has been on my mind lately. i cannot escape it. nor can i escape themes of community, what i would want it to be. i want relationships like the type i hinted at in this thing.

i think so much of that possibility hinges on us being willing to be known, to be vulnerable, to be willing to be hurt, to be willing to love someone, to be willing to be loved. sadly, we have not really given each other much confidence for doing that. we are so mean to each other sometimes. then, we are so guarded and protective of ourselves and i wonder if that isn't to the detriment of each other. how much we could learn from each other if we would just open up, relax and let go of our selves, the ones we have created, and actually be who we are. i think it would do so much for that void it seems so many feel, that lack of community, of companionship, of love.

addison

well, i am officially an uncle. addison bedi made her way into the world early monday morning. here are my two favorite pictures thus far:



there is something about each of these pictures that makes me very happy. one is seeing my brother hold his daughter. it is funny to think that the guy that used to sit on my head and do unspeakable things. this is the guy who used to place his knees on my chest and stomach, forcing all the air out of my lungs in a painful fashion while letting a healthy collection of spit dangle from his mouth only to suck it back like a yo-yo time and time again. this is the same guy who would take his chin and, performing a move he would call the type-writer, forcefully ram it into my back and shoulders repeatedly. this same guy is now going to be raising a little girl.

i look forward to seeing that.

sadly, i have to look forward. currently, i can feel the gap between this place and that one. seeing the pictures make me sad to know that it will most likely be mid-december before i get to awkwardly hold her, fearing as though i am going to break her somehow, and also before i get to see my family and addison's parents hold her comfortably without fear of her falling apart because they know what they are doing when a baby is thrust upon them. but i won't get a real sense of those qualities that make addison uniquely her. i have to settle for descriptions and that just won't suffice for me. i want to smell her, hold her, hear her, feel her breathing.

the distance is noticeable.

today, the importance of family to me became much clearer. as i told a friend of my longing to be with my family, especially its newest member, he commented on how much my family seemed to mean to me. it took me off guard. i never really noticed that in me, at least not as something unique. i suppose i forget sometimes that not everybody has that. i do have a family i love and realize that i need to be grateful for it.

my family is just another item on the list of the ways God has blessed me, a list which seems to reveal more blessings each day. in his gospel john said we have received grace upon grace, or one blessing after another from God's fullness (1.16). i'm thankful God shares that fullness with us in such a personal way, in ways unique to each of us, ways that matter.

which brings me to the second picture. it would seem that her fingers are roughly the same length as my own. i am waiting for the picture of her palming a basketball. aside from the basketball potential, i can only hope this child will retain this trait of long fingers and develop a love of music. if she doesn't, her crazy uncle will force it upon her. i will sneak her off to piano and guitar lessons when her parents aren't looking. but that finger thing is the secondary issue.

i love how serene she looks. i love how calming that picture is. i'm sure there will be screaming and pooping and crying. but something about her resting here, one hand neatly fold over the other, relaxes and comforts me. it makes the distance feel both more and less concrete. i guess i'll take that.

High Quality Beached Whale explosion video

"they blew up a whale. they didn't know what to do." cherylyn kettel- in a terrified voice.

injured, injured bad......

i realize this is so very old. yet, i cannot express how happy this kid makes me. every time i smile. every time i love this kid more. every aspect of it makes me happy: the breathing, the inability to get it out, the disbelief of a man kicking someone in the penis, the slight lisp, the dimples, the high pitched you know what he did, the fact that he says penis as the location specifically, the injured- injured bad- with head shaking and the list goes on and on.

also good, is the karate one with this kid. "i need to check if my muscles are grown. ooh it's grown now. it's really grown now." this quote also makes me happy. this is easily 30 of my favorite seconds in the world. God bless this kid and whoever put a camera in front of him.

i realize the word penis is in this post a good deal more than usual. i don't care. grow up. it's a medical word.

the art of stalling

today my very self will wage war with itself. it is civil war within me. the nobler side longs to saturate my mind with knowledge, wisdom and information that will benefit the whole of mankind. the side of lesser good will attempt to derail my endeavor with many trite distractions. it will say things like: "hey, check out this stuff on youtube," "you know, knock them all you want but the soaps are pretty awesome," "you should update your blog, it's been a week."

the war will play out, battles will be won by both sides (how can i resist my stories?) and ultimately i will finish what i need to before tomorrow. yet i will stall with all the artistry of jan van eyck (the arnolfini portrait could ring a bell). i will allow my mind to wander in glorious fields, but not to far. my mind will have a reasonable tether today. as soon as it begins to stray to far from the necessary work in front of me, time will yank it back in a swift jerking motion.

how time can disappear is amazing to me. i have found myself lately in a state of unbelief when i look at the clock. time is a major player in the art of stalling. the pressure that time brings is probably the hardest thing to deal with at school, but that isn't much different than anything else.

there is quite a bit of reading. if i did not enjoy reading, i am sure this would be much more of a difficulty. the issue is time. i am in a position where i must decide what is important to read carefully and what needs to be read quite casually.

because it has been a while since i was a proper student, i have had a hard time developing my reading filter. i have been reading a little too much like i did when time was completely open ended. no deadlines or assignments or expectations loomed over my head. i was able to allow the words on the page to engage me at our own pace. this is how i like to read.

i'll get to read that way again some time soon. but for now, it has to become something a little more mechanic. i have to be quick yet i still have to retain the information on the page. this is actually kind of a fun challenge. i need to relearn how to carefully read very quickly.

monday is a day free from class for me. i have a weekly 3-day weekend. yet my weekly holiday is spent trying to accomplish most, if not all, my week's work. i have attempted to seek out places that will be conducive to this feeble attempt.

today, i will venture to my new favorite bookstore, powell's. the link to the left or above, depending on the size of your computer screen, will not capture the splendor of powell's. the one i like to go to is a full city block. i'd also like to point out that saul bellow is part of the reason it exists. that is important.

other places of interest:
-the grotto: the national sanctuary of our sorrowful mother. this features splendid views, serene walks, a glass walled room on a cliff with an awkwardly life-like and extremely white mary and blond-haired, blue-eyed child and very comfortable leather chairs and, finally, no less than one very uptight security guard.
- rocky butte: an amazing panorama view of portland. i was there with a group as the sun was setting. it is quite a site to see. the link basically has a few of photos of it to the left. it has great lights.

i will periodically, hopefully, continue to add places of interest. it is only a matter of time. i just have to figure out when neglecting school is the right thing to do and when i am just wanting to be a little lazy. obviously, this post is one big attempt at delaying my heroic dive into the world of scholarly endeavors. i'll consider that attempt a solid success. stalling is an art. if it prevents you from accomplishing what you need/want to, then it has not been done well. however, if you are able to entertain the many distractions while completing the race, so to speak, then you've got something as artistic as team rhythmic gymnastics.