OK, this one is a rant. (I'm not fond of rants)
I am really surprised at the ruling by a federal judge in the matter of the Dover, PA fight over a 30 second statement in the public school system. The school board mandated that the following should be read once at the beginning of the sections about Darwinistic Evolution:
from the Associated Press:
Text of the statement on intelligent design that Dover Area High School administrators had been reading to students at the start of biology lessons on evolution:
"The Pennsylvania Academic Standards require students to learn about Darwin's theory of evolution and eventually to take a standardized test of which evolution is a part.
"Because Darwin's theory is a theory, it continues to be tested as new evidence is discovered. The theory is not a fact. Gaps in the theory exist for which there is no evidence. A theory is defined as a well-tested explanation that unifies a broad range of observations.
"Intelligent design is an explanation of the origin of life that differs from Darwin's view. The reference book, 'Of Pandas and People,' is available in the library along with other resources for students who might be interested in gaining an understanding of what intelligent design actually involves.
"With respect to any theory, students are encouraged to keep an open mind. The school leaves the discussion of the origins of life to individual students and their families. As a standards-driven district, class instruction focuses upon preparing students to achieve proficiency on standards-based assessments."
Wow - please note the abundance of deviously designed rhetoric to undermine science. Ugh. Let me summarize:
You are about to learn about the theory of evolution. Theories are not proven, but give tested explanations and are open to more evidence and adjustment. There is another school of thought about our origins, which you may look into on your own time, called Intelligent Design. There is a book in the library about it, but that area is for your own pursuit and your family's. Keep an open mind. We are standards driven and will prepare you to know evolutionary theory.
Or, let me give you the short short version. "We're about to teach on Evolution. Some people have another idea, which if you are curious about you may study on your own. Up to you, but we test you on evolution."
Now THAT, is one insipid and nefarious statement.
The part that seems especially threatening is having an open mind. We can't have that. If evolution is the best theory, why would people be so threatened about other viewpoints. What's also interesting is that the statement says "The school leaves the discussion of the origins of life to individual students and their families" - with the notable exception of evolution. That origin of life viewpoint is mandated, and apparently not open to evaluation or competition.
No - what we really need, in regard to this issue, is a closed mind. Nothing else in there. We can't have any heretics bringing in false theories and beliefs. (Sounds like a religious person's viewpoint to me)
An open mind is simply too dangerous to be encouraged. People might be duped into thinking they have options. Or duped into thinking for themselves. I don't really care what the conclude about the subject. I care that they cannot even mention that you have an option, or point toward something else. Open mindedness - too dangerous to encourage or sanction.
Good thing no one will read this! I might be in trouble.
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Monday, December 19, 2005
Preponderances O Conferences
I've not written here for some time. Though, since I've written so little this could hardly be considered a break in my "normal" pattern of blogging. What does normal mean anyhow?
I think part of the reason for not writing, besides laziness or addiction to Halo, is the fact that my job has had a ridiculous number of conferences in the last 2 months. Here's the quick list:
I've been to Western PA, Southern VA, Coastal NJ, Central IN. In the coming several months I will be to Washington DC, a woodsy retreat center in PA, New Orleans, West Virginia and a couple I probably don't see coming.
What is it about the concept of a conference that makes it seem like the answer to problems, or communication?
The word conference itself defines what those times should be about. Conference comes from the word confer which means: To meet in order to deliberate together or compare views; consult
Though on one hand I find it irritating that I've had so many conferences recently - meaning, in the last 10 years - I must say that I also find it interesting when I think about human communication.
It seems that we were designed for face to face communication. With all the technologies and mediums we have now in this "communication age" it seems that we can't get away from the need or desire or efficiency that comes from actual human interaction.
No email, video conference, phone call or satellite hookup can compare with the efficacy and efficiency of human interaction and conversation.
In fact - to be fair - I think that this personal contact becomes even more important these days. I think of my email. I get a barrage of them all day. They range from inept and misspelled attempts to get me to enlarge my manhood, to notes from people I love. The bulk of them are people trying to communicate something important for me to do, or send, or talk about. But what happens is that I get so many of those impersonal requests, that they are mostly lost on me. I don't have time to answer this somewhat important email because I have to get through the other 30 that could be important. Gross.
It's now become so easy to communicate so little with so many. Isn't technology great?!
No - I need to have conversations with other humans. In person is best. I'm moved to action, to inter-action and to be able to communicate and say yes or no right there. They have to ask for things of me to my face, and - because it's a human relationship - I have the ability to change, refuse or modify expectations. Not so with email edicts.
I also have the advantage of being able to hear and talk about the heart and reasons behind the views and jobs I'm given from my bosses and colleagues. It's not just some "do this" thing, it's attached to people I care about, and want to help.
I guess my complaint about my preponderance of conferences then is this: I like the interactions, but I'd prefer to have them here at home. It's more the travel and time away from my normal interactions that I resent, rather than the interaction and the facile nature of communications there. I think I'll have a better attitude if I keep that in mind.
So, If you want to interact with me on this point or have some comments - just drop me an email. I'll probably read it, and just might - might reply.
I think part of the reason for not writing, besides laziness or addiction to Halo, is the fact that my job has had a ridiculous number of conferences in the last 2 months. Here's the quick list:
I've been to Western PA, Southern VA, Coastal NJ, Central IN. In the coming several months I will be to Washington DC, a woodsy retreat center in PA, New Orleans, West Virginia and a couple I probably don't see coming.
What is it about the concept of a conference that makes it seem like the answer to problems, or communication?
The word conference itself defines what those times should be about. Conference comes from the word confer which means: To meet in order to deliberate together or compare views; consult
Though on one hand I find it irritating that I've had so many conferences recently - meaning, in the last 10 years - I must say that I also find it interesting when I think about human communication.
It seems that we were designed for face to face communication. With all the technologies and mediums we have now in this "communication age" it seems that we can't get away from the need or desire or efficiency that comes from actual human interaction.
No email, video conference, phone call or satellite hookup can compare with the efficacy and efficiency of human interaction and conversation.
In fact - to be fair - I think that this personal contact becomes even more important these days. I think of my email. I get a barrage of them all day. They range from inept and misspelled attempts to get me to enlarge my manhood, to notes from people I love. The bulk of them are people trying to communicate something important for me to do, or send, or talk about. But what happens is that I get so many of those impersonal requests, that they are mostly lost on me. I don't have time to answer this somewhat important email because I have to get through the other 30 that could be important. Gross.
It's now become so easy to communicate so little with so many. Isn't technology great?!
No - I need to have conversations with other humans. In person is best. I'm moved to action, to inter-action and to be able to communicate and say yes or no right there. They have to ask for things of me to my face, and - because it's a human relationship - I have the ability to change, refuse or modify expectations. Not so with email edicts.
I also have the advantage of being able to hear and talk about the heart and reasons behind the views and jobs I'm given from my bosses and colleagues. It's not just some "do this" thing, it's attached to people I care about, and want to help.
I guess my complaint about my preponderance of conferences then is this: I like the interactions, but I'd prefer to have them here at home. It's more the travel and time away from my normal interactions that I resent, rather than the interaction and the facile nature of communications there. I think I'll have a better attitude if I keep that in mind.
So, If you want to interact with me on this point or have some comments - just drop me an email. I'll probably read it, and just might - might reply.
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Death Row Community College
This past week I was scoping out a small community college in southern Virginia.
The name of the school is John Tyler Community College. Who was John Tyler, you might ask? (as I did) You might need to brush up on your American History (as I do) for he was the 10th President of the United States. Who knew? (though I actually have heard the slogan they used to promote him; "Tippacanoe and Tyler Too." Catchy. I might vote for him in the next presidential election. Why not? If dead people can vote, http://www.citypaper.net/articles/101295/article009.shtml why not vote for dead people?)
So after clearing that up, I and a couple co-workers set out to give out some Freebies on campus. Alas - the administration wouldn't allow it. More accurately, the person who does allow that kind of thing was in Holland digging for tulips or something. The people there were unwilling or unable to give us permission to distribute some free stuff - which could be a blog topic in itself. But hey - who gets paid to do more than they have to do to get paid?
So, in lieu of actually giving out unauthorized freebies, we thought we'd informally survey a few students. I began the conversation with 2 guys sitting on some couches outside their classroom. Before I knew what was going on, everyone attending an English class was there. Interesting mix of people. Interesting mix of conversations.
Tattoo Dude: "Hey - did you guys do the reading for today?"
Several people between the ages of 18 and 67: "what?! There was an assignment? Explicative."
Tatoo: "yeah - it's on page 125."
18-67 Year Olds: "zip. flp flip flip. Ok - lemme skim it."
Someone quoted part of the article which said - I kid you not "No one is really poor. They're just pre-rich." Brilliant. Perhaps this guy thinks the starving-poor of the world are also not actually malnourished - they're just pre-dead.
In another section of this crowd, there was a conversation between a guy who looked like his name should be Gunther and the very small but sassy crippled girl. They were making fun of each other. I shall leave this up you your imagination. Surreal.
In the midst of this fray, I tried to ask a couple questions. A few of the students responded - some with anecdotal references to the Family Guy, and some with real responses. Several were pretty surprised to hear that John Tyler was a president of the US. Then, Gunther began to read some internet webpages he had printed out. They were letters from Death Row Inmates, and they were pleas for penpals. He read them out loud to the group.
These letters spoke of the intense loneliness of men slated to die. Some spent 23 hours a day in solitary. They were very honest and desperate, yearning for someone to write them. They were hungry for someone to bring some meaning or significance into their world; someone, anyone who would dialogue with them by way of letters. Their present isolation from society seemed even more severe for the fact that ultimate separation was coming on a known date and time. To me, these pleas for connection sounded like requests for some kind of last meal for their souls. One more good thing before the end.
I felt so sad. But that changed very quickly.
In response to these naked cries for human connection, Gunther (who was apparently the apex Community College English student) began to make fun of their grammar and spelling. He mocked them for their poor parts of speech, for their apparent lack of educational prowess. "Ha ha! They are so stupid! Listen to this one!"
Unbelievable. Apparently Gunther could only see the ink on the page. Behind those molecule-thick markings were men who were dying, and all he seemed to care about was pointing out their lack of writing ability. Wow.
I really wanted to say something, but just then the class opened up and everyone shuffled off. What would I have said anyhow? "You selfish jerk!! Don't you care about other people, you moron!?" Hardly a compelling prod toward empathy.
But, this was one of my better moments of empathy. I felt sad for Gunther's callousness, and I felt sad for the desperate inmates. Right then I could see a contrast between his bad reaction and the response that I was having. But to be honest, I'm not really sure how many good moments I have.
If I had to bet, I would wager that the majority of people are hungry for connection. Most of us are at best somewhat relationally malnourished. Sure, we all have lots of events and technologies and people around us to make us feel connected and filled. But my impression is that few of us really connect on that deep soul-nourishing level that we all hope for.
The thing is, unlike those inmates, it seems that few of us really relate how needful we really are. We're too proud to be honest. There is strike one against my day to day empathy for others. They aren't very open about it, so I'm less likely to recognize it.
Strike two for me is that I know this. If I stop and think about it, I know that people want to be pursued and loved. But I forget this (willfully maybe?) and pretend like everyone is fine - if not in my inner view, at least in my outward expression. I'm the callous one.
Strike three for me is that I'm the Gunther. Oh sure - maybe I'll react well to those desperate cries for help, but most people aren't that vulnerable. So I'm not that empathetic. In fact - often times I'm the one who's making fun of other people. Occasionally for grammar, but more for smaller things. The way they talk, their personality quirks and shortcomings, their job performance, physical appearance, the way they drive. (Empathy is the emotional roadkill of the highways. If you could hear what I think about other drivers!)
In short - I need a double shot of humility. I'm getting that, slowly. I'm being worked on, and am way better than I used to be. Still need work though. I want to have the kind of humility and empathy that I had for those prisoners with the average Joe. I want to want to connect with the heart of the average guy walking down the street, or my neighbor. I was to be that kind of a person.
But what about you? I'm curious what things for you have made you more empathetic. What gives you the courage to reach out to others? I'd really love to know. If you love other people - what is it that gives you that? And I'm wondering if you're deeply, richly connected with anyone. Are you? Hey - I'd love it if you were my penpal. Lord knows I need more honest connection. Perhaps you do as well.
The name of the school is John Tyler Community College. Who was John Tyler, you might ask? (as I did) You might need to brush up on your American History (as I do) for he was the 10th President of the United States. Who knew? (though I actually have heard the slogan they used to promote him; "Tippacanoe and Tyler Too." Catchy. I might vote for him in the next presidential election. Why not? If dead people can vote, http://www.citypaper.net/articles/101295/article009.shtml why not vote for dead people?)
So after clearing that up, I and a couple co-workers set out to give out some Freebies on campus. Alas - the administration wouldn't allow it. More accurately, the person who does allow that kind of thing was in Holland digging for tulips or something. The people there were unwilling or unable to give us permission to distribute some free stuff - which could be a blog topic in itself. But hey - who gets paid to do more than they have to do to get paid?
So, in lieu of actually giving out unauthorized freebies, we thought we'd informally survey a few students. I began the conversation with 2 guys sitting on some couches outside their classroom. Before I knew what was going on, everyone attending an English class was there. Interesting mix of people. Interesting mix of conversations.
Tattoo Dude: "Hey - did you guys do the reading for today?"
Several people between the ages of 18 and 67: "what?! There was an assignment? Explicative."
Tatoo: "yeah - it's on page 125."
18-67 Year Olds: "zip. flp flip flip. Ok - lemme skim it."
Someone quoted part of the article which said - I kid you not "No one is really poor. They're just pre-rich." Brilliant. Perhaps this guy thinks the starving-poor of the world are also not actually malnourished - they're just pre-dead.
In another section of this crowd, there was a conversation between a guy who looked like his name should be Gunther and the very small but sassy crippled girl. They were making fun of each other. I shall leave this up you your imagination. Surreal.
In the midst of this fray, I tried to ask a couple questions. A few of the students responded - some with anecdotal references to the Family Guy, and some with real responses. Several were pretty surprised to hear that John Tyler was a president of the US. Then, Gunther began to read some internet webpages he had printed out. They were letters from Death Row Inmates, and they were pleas for penpals. He read them out loud to the group.
These letters spoke of the intense loneliness of men slated to die. Some spent 23 hours a day in solitary. They were very honest and desperate, yearning for someone to write them. They were hungry for someone to bring some meaning or significance into their world; someone, anyone who would dialogue with them by way of letters. Their present isolation from society seemed even more severe for the fact that ultimate separation was coming on a known date and time. To me, these pleas for connection sounded like requests for some kind of last meal for their souls. One more good thing before the end.
I felt so sad. But that changed very quickly.
In response to these naked cries for human connection, Gunther (who was apparently the apex Community College English student) began to make fun of their grammar and spelling. He mocked them for their poor parts of speech, for their apparent lack of educational prowess. "Ha ha! They are so stupid! Listen to this one!"
Unbelievable. Apparently Gunther could only see the ink on the page. Behind those molecule-thick markings were men who were dying, and all he seemed to care about was pointing out their lack of writing ability. Wow.
I really wanted to say something, but just then the class opened up and everyone shuffled off. What would I have said anyhow? "You selfish jerk!! Don't you care about other people, you moron!?" Hardly a compelling prod toward empathy.
But, this was one of my better moments of empathy. I felt sad for Gunther's callousness, and I felt sad for the desperate inmates. Right then I could see a contrast between his bad reaction and the response that I was having. But to be honest, I'm not really sure how many good moments I have.
If I had to bet, I would wager that the majority of people are hungry for connection. Most of us are at best somewhat relationally malnourished. Sure, we all have lots of events and technologies and people around us to make us feel connected and filled. But my impression is that few of us really connect on that deep soul-nourishing level that we all hope for.
The thing is, unlike those inmates, it seems that few of us really relate how needful we really are. We're too proud to be honest. There is strike one against my day to day empathy for others. They aren't very open about it, so I'm less likely to recognize it.
Strike two for me is that I know this. If I stop and think about it, I know that people want to be pursued and loved. But I forget this (willfully maybe?) and pretend like everyone is fine - if not in my inner view, at least in my outward expression. I'm the callous one.
Strike three for me is that I'm the Gunther. Oh sure - maybe I'll react well to those desperate cries for help, but most people aren't that vulnerable. So I'm not that empathetic. In fact - often times I'm the one who's making fun of other people. Occasionally for grammar, but more for smaller things. The way they talk, their personality quirks and shortcomings, their job performance, physical appearance, the way they drive. (Empathy is the emotional roadkill of the highways. If you could hear what I think about other drivers!)
In short - I need a double shot of humility. I'm getting that, slowly. I'm being worked on, and am way better than I used to be. Still need work though. I want to have the kind of humility and empathy that I had for those prisoners with the average Joe. I want to want to connect with the heart of the average guy walking down the street, or my neighbor. I was to be that kind of a person.
But what about you? I'm curious what things for you have made you more empathetic. What gives you the courage to reach out to others? I'd really love to know. If you love other people - what is it that gives you that? And I'm wondering if you're deeply, richly connected with anyone. Are you? Hey - I'd love it if you were my penpal. Lord knows I need more honest connection. Perhaps you do as well.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
My roof is on backwards
This weekend, we were inundated by nearly 7 inches of rain.
Saturday morning I laid down to take a nap, but, as I was falling into the fog of sleep, I shot out of bed when the house imploded. A big chunk of bedroom ceiling decided it liked the view from the floor better and made its way there in a hurry - along with gallons of water and some rather soggy insulation.
Ah - the joys of home ownership.
I won't bore you with a wordy rant about the slippery climb up the ladder and the hour on the roof in the rain (at least it was a tropical system, and the rain was rather warm for October in Pennsylvania) with tarps and a staple gun. (what qualifies something as being referred to as a gun anyhow? And why do most of my paragraphs have more content lodged in parenthesis than actual paragraph body? Guns though - my beefy friends are said to have "nice guns" but that doesn't follow if it has to do with the capacity to shoot a projectile. Maybe muscled men's big arms shoot invisible bullets of perceived inferiority? For that matter, caulk guns barely get their projectiles out, yet they are called guns. Why call it a gun? It's the same principle as a tube of toothpaste, but I don't refer to that as a gun - cool as that might sound. "Honey...where's the Crest-gun?" "In your toiletry and gun kit. You'll need to reload it." Cool. What would the neighbors make of that? But - I was talking about my roof, wasn't I?)
So - my roof.
Today the son of the actual contractor whom we called came out and looked at the spot where the water was definitely leaking in. Ok, send in the son. Lots of people have roof issues - sure. I'm a home maintenance idiot anyhow, so a roofer's 3 year old probably exceeds my frighteningly small roof vocabulary. So, tell us all about it just-learned-to-drive teeny-bopper roof boy. What do we need to do?
The answer: "Just caulk it."
"Caulk it?!" says I.
"Yeah" he says, "it's coming in this hole just below the gutter. If you fill that up with caulk or something, it should keep the water out."
Here I must explain a few things to you. (or the theoretical you whom I imagine might actually read this someday for some reason I can't imagine. The reality is that this blog - like most others - is probably just self servicing. A figurative "place" where uncontested vanities and delusions of widespread literary significance can grow unchecked by and unfounded in reality. But it's fun - ain't it?) Ok - cessation of digression.
Just caulk it.
The thing you need to know; I already know that this solution is ridiculous. On a clear day I can see New Jersey through this hole under the spouting. What's more, in that balmy rain I pulled back the metal "flashing" (I learned a new word pertaining to roofs & siding! Yay!) and found that the only thing holding the "wood" together was the "moss" that was covering it. The wood was so rotted and wet... well - fruitcake would be a much more substantial building material.
So, caulk itself, unless there's some magical caulk I don't know about, can't be the answer.
"Umm - Caulk? I think the wood up there isn't in very good shape, would you take a closer look at it?" I was at work and talking to the kid on the phone.
After a less teenager-ish examination, here's his new story:
The previous owners/roofers
1 Didn't remove the old roof before adding the new one.
2 Put the flashing on upside down.
3 Didn't stagger the layers, so there are huge seems running down the roof
4 Put the bottom layer on upside down. (on top of the old shingles)
and therefore it can be concluded that they...
5 Had no idea what they were doing.
What's even more intriguing is that they managed to put the edge layers on upside down ALL AROUND THE HOUSE. My entire exterior wooden framing might be less stable than last Christmas' fruitcake from Aunt Ethel.
So, in effect, behind the 1970's avocado yellow aluminum siding, my entire house is probably being held together by moss.
We should sleep well tonight, and every night - until the first hard frost.
Saturday morning I laid down to take a nap, but, as I was falling into the fog of sleep, I shot out of bed when the house imploded. A big chunk of bedroom ceiling decided it liked the view from the floor better and made its way there in a hurry - along with gallons of water and some rather soggy insulation.
Ah - the joys of home ownership.
I won't bore you with a wordy rant about the slippery climb up the ladder and the hour on the roof in the rain (at least it was a tropical system, and the rain was rather warm for October in Pennsylvania) with tarps and a staple gun. (what qualifies something as being referred to as a gun anyhow? And why do most of my paragraphs have more content lodged in parenthesis than actual paragraph body? Guns though - my beefy friends are said to have "nice guns" but that doesn't follow if it has to do with the capacity to shoot a projectile. Maybe muscled men's big arms shoot invisible bullets of perceived inferiority? For that matter, caulk guns barely get their projectiles out, yet they are called guns. Why call it a gun? It's the same principle as a tube of toothpaste, but I don't refer to that as a gun - cool as that might sound. "Honey...where's the Crest-gun?" "In your toiletry and gun kit. You'll need to reload it." Cool. What would the neighbors make of that? But - I was talking about my roof, wasn't I?)
So - my roof.
Today the son of the actual contractor whom we called came out and looked at the spot where the water was definitely leaking in. Ok, send in the son. Lots of people have roof issues - sure. I'm a home maintenance idiot anyhow, so a roofer's 3 year old probably exceeds my frighteningly small roof vocabulary. So, tell us all about it just-learned-to-drive teeny-bopper roof boy. What do we need to do?
The answer: "Just caulk it."
"Caulk it?!" says I.
"Yeah" he says, "it's coming in this hole just below the gutter. If you fill that up with caulk or something, it should keep the water out."
Here I must explain a few things to you. (or the theoretical you whom I imagine might actually read this someday for some reason I can't imagine. The reality is that this blog - like most others - is probably just self servicing. A figurative "place" where uncontested vanities and delusions of widespread literary significance can grow unchecked by and unfounded in reality. But it's fun - ain't it?) Ok - cessation of digression.
Just caulk it.
The thing you need to know; I already know that this solution is ridiculous. On a clear day I can see New Jersey through this hole under the spouting. What's more, in that balmy rain I pulled back the metal "flashing" (I learned a new word pertaining to roofs & siding! Yay!) and found that the only thing holding the "wood" together was the "moss" that was covering it. The wood was so rotted and wet... well - fruitcake would be a much more substantial building material.
So, caulk itself, unless there's some magical caulk I don't know about, can't be the answer.
"Umm - Caulk? I think the wood up there isn't in very good shape, would you take a closer look at it?" I was at work and talking to the kid on the phone.
After a less teenager-ish examination, here's his new story:
The previous owners/roofers
1 Didn't remove the old roof before adding the new one.
2 Put the flashing on upside down.
3 Didn't stagger the layers, so there are huge seems running down the roof
4 Put the bottom layer on upside down. (on top of the old shingles)
and therefore it can be concluded that they...
5 Had no idea what they were doing.
What's even more intriguing is that they managed to put the edge layers on upside down ALL AROUND THE HOUSE. My entire exterior wooden framing might be less stable than last Christmas' fruitcake from Aunt Ethel.
So, in effect, behind the 1970's avocado yellow aluminum siding, my entire house is probably being held together by moss.
We should sleep well tonight, and every night - until the first hard frost.
Monday, October 03, 2005
I Dream of Bikini
Last night my wife had a dream.
In her dream, she was in a bikini contest with some other ladies, but felt pretty confident about the outcome. The reason for this assurance of victory: I was the judge of the contest. She thought "surely he'll pick me as the winner."
This sounds like a nightmare to me. If I don't pick her, I'm in serious trouble on the home front. If I do pick her, I'm in less trouble, but still in trouble on the home front. Mainly for that fact that I took the job of comparing my wife with all the other ladies.
I can imagine a doomed conversation later on.
Wife: So John, you felt that I was the clear winner?
Me: Sure did babe! You're dreamy.
Wife: No bias there, you really felt that I compared well with the other nearly naked women?
Me: Um, well, you... You more than compare, you're in a class so far above them all. Not that I was really comparing, even though I had to. So I guess I was - but you won! Yay!
Wife: So if I hadn't won, who would you have picked to win?
Me: (now realizing the impending train wreck) Uhhh. Let's, ahh - let's stay out of the theoretical, shall we?
Wife: I mean, surely in your mind there was a runner up? Right? If you made her the winner, why would you have? What about her would have made her stand out to you?
Me: Are you getting warm? I'm warm.
Wife: Really, what would you have done if I weren't even in the competition? Would you have enjoyed judging it?
Me: It's really hot in here.
Fortunately, it was just a dream, and there was no final judgment about the winner in it. This has spared me explaining the actions and attitudes of the dream-me, and led me to a valuable preventive lesson through my wife's active subconscious.
Namely:
Never be a bikini contest judge, especially if your wife is competing.
This advice I give to you freely and without cost to you. Have a good day.
In her dream, she was in a bikini contest with some other ladies, but felt pretty confident about the outcome. The reason for this assurance of victory: I was the judge of the contest. She thought "surely he'll pick me as the winner."
This sounds like a nightmare to me. If I don't pick her, I'm in serious trouble on the home front. If I do pick her, I'm in less trouble, but still in trouble on the home front. Mainly for that fact that I took the job of comparing my wife with all the other ladies.
I can imagine a doomed conversation later on.
Wife: So John, you felt that I was the clear winner?
Me: Sure did babe! You're dreamy.
Wife: No bias there, you really felt that I compared well with the other nearly naked women?
Me: Um, well, you... You more than compare, you're in a class so far above them all. Not that I was really comparing, even though I had to. So I guess I was - but you won! Yay!
Wife: So if I hadn't won, who would you have picked to win?
Me: (now realizing the impending train wreck) Uhhh. Let's, ahh - let's stay out of the theoretical, shall we?
Wife: I mean, surely in your mind there was a runner up? Right? If you made her the winner, why would you have? What about her would have made her stand out to you?
Me: Are you getting warm? I'm warm.
Wife: Really, what would you have done if I weren't even in the competition? Would you have enjoyed judging it?
Me: It's really hot in here.
Fortunately, it was just a dream, and there was no final judgment about the winner in it. This has spared me explaining the actions and attitudes of the dream-me, and led me to a valuable preventive lesson through my wife's active subconscious.
Namely:
Never be a bikini contest judge, especially if your wife is competing.
This advice I give to you freely and without cost to you. Have a good day.
Monday, September 26, 2005
Waffle Cone or Petri Dish?
For quite some time I've enjoyed Breyer's Ice Cream. Not just orally, but also intellectually - in terms of "ice cream theory."
By this I mean the fact that a side by side comparison of Breyer's with most other name brands would reveal a stark contrast in ingredients. Unlike Breyer's, many brands have much more to offer in terms of "goo." After the initially unsurprising list of substances like milk, cream, & sugar - one finds things like guar, carob bean and xantham gums, carrageenan and caulk from your Aunt Edna's vintage 1950's bathroom.
Being an art graduate, I recognize binders when I see them. The gummy stuff in many ice cream tubs is something that holds the ingredients in suspension - to reduce separation and increase consistency. In this case, apparently, to make that consistency more moss-like. (interestingly, carageenan is a kind of algae) I would imagine that this additive also pads the profit margin. After all, algae just sorta shows up - it's available for whoever wants it. (and who wants it?)
Anyhow
When some friends in my bible study brought over some ice cream for dinner the other night, I couldn't help but notice a difference. When I partook of the Breyer's Snickers Ice Cream, something seemed amiss. My tastebuds indignation was proven righteous when I looked at the ingredients. Sure enough - gum. Gum in my Breyer's.
I hoped to blame a non-Breyer's source for this adulteration, so I also checked the Vanilla "extra-creamy" which had no surrogate-branded ingredients. I found that at the corporate level, "extra creamy" simply means "extra-gooey." It too contained some of the bounty of the microbe-farm. (And dare I ask what produces "guar?" Sounds like something emitted from an insect's butt - shudder! "Hey - wait a second...these aren't flecks of vanilla!")
Anyhow - my intellectual enjoyment of said ice cream is bound up in its simplicity. A handful of common ingredients, albeit rich ones, mixed together for my delight. Does it get runny quickly - yeah! It's just a couple liquids and sugar whipped up and cooled down. But it's pure. It's yummy. It's intellectually beautiful. It might bring my life to a premature end, but I will be fat and happy on all counts. (unless heart attacks actually hurt - but don't burst my bubble)
But now, I've found this troubling insight. Gum in my Breyers!? Have they now added a division for algae production? Couple of guys with big slimy tanks full of who knows what, just watching the algae grow? What's going on? Perhaps it's clandestinely referred to as the "Breyer's Cultural Division" if you catch my meaning.
I can't help but feeling like I've been let down. The box still says "all natural ingredients", but I no longer know what that means. Indeed - algae is pretty natural. But so are lead and mercury. What should I do?
Sadness. I have no pithy analogy or illustration about life here. I'm just sad that there is gum in my bowl, and I just want to know why. WHY!?
Oh well. There are worse things in life.
If I stop by an ice cream stand in the near future, maybe I'll ask for a Petri dish instead of a waffle cone. But then again - for me personally, I'm going to try an avoid eating algae, mold and anything that sounds at all like "Xantham"
By this I mean the fact that a side by side comparison of Breyer's with most other name brands would reveal a stark contrast in ingredients. Unlike Breyer's, many brands have much more to offer in terms of "goo." After the initially unsurprising list of substances like milk, cream, & sugar - one finds things like guar, carob bean and xantham gums, carrageenan and caulk from your Aunt Edna's vintage 1950's bathroom.
Being an art graduate, I recognize binders when I see them. The gummy stuff in many ice cream tubs is something that holds the ingredients in suspension - to reduce separation and increase consistency. In this case, apparently, to make that consistency more moss-like. (interestingly, carageenan is a kind of algae) I would imagine that this additive also pads the profit margin. After all, algae just sorta shows up - it's available for whoever wants it. (and who wants it?)
Anyhow
When some friends in my bible study brought over some ice cream for dinner the other night, I couldn't help but notice a difference. When I partook of the Breyer's Snickers Ice Cream, something seemed amiss. My tastebuds indignation was proven righteous when I looked at the ingredients. Sure enough - gum. Gum in my Breyer's.
I hoped to blame a non-Breyer's source for this adulteration, so I also checked the Vanilla "extra-creamy" which had no surrogate-branded ingredients. I found that at the corporate level, "extra creamy" simply means "extra-gooey." It too contained some of the bounty of the microbe-farm. (And dare I ask what produces "guar?" Sounds like something emitted from an insect's butt - shudder! "Hey - wait a second...these aren't flecks of vanilla!")
Anyhow - my intellectual enjoyment of said ice cream is bound up in its simplicity. A handful of common ingredients, albeit rich ones, mixed together for my delight. Does it get runny quickly - yeah! It's just a couple liquids and sugar whipped up and cooled down. But it's pure. It's yummy. It's intellectually beautiful. It might bring my life to a premature end, but I will be fat and happy on all counts. (unless heart attacks actually hurt - but don't burst my bubble)
But now, I've found this troubling insight. Gum in my Breyers!? Have they now added a division for algae production? Couple of guys with big slimy tanks full of who knows what, just watching the algae grow? What's going on? Perhaps it's clandestinely referred to as the "Breyer's Cultural Division" if you catch my meaning.
I can't help but feeling like I've been let down. The box still says "all natural ingredients", but I no longer know what that means. Indeed - algae is pretty natural. But so are lead and mercury. What should I do?
Sadness. I have no pithy analogy or illustration about life here. I'm just sad that there is gum in my bowl, and I just want to know why. WHY!?
Oh well. There are worse things in life.
If I stop by an ice cream stand in the near future, maybe I'll ask for a Petri dish instead of a waffle cone. But then again - for me personally, I'm going to try an avoid eating algae, mold and anything that sounds at all like "Xantham"
Thursday, September 15, 2005
May I Rest in Peace
What's the deal with sleeping?
Whatever it is, I could sure use some. I've been going hard the last few weeks with work (starting things up on campus) and bonus work (creating the video promo for our Christmas Conference. You can check out the finished product on the website... www.christmasconference.com ) and man am I tired. Had a couple 3 hours of sleep nights. Oof.
I'm easily sidetracked, which leads to taking longer to get work done, which leads to staying up late and sleeping less, which tends to make me easily sidetracked. the Wee Hour Spiral. Perhaps I should watch some reality TV. Gosh - those shows. Apparently little brainwave activity on the reception end of them, and the creation end of them. But I should be finishing my video now, but since I'm blogging, I'll stay up late to finish. Ah well, no sonorous snoring tonight.
So, instead of doing the sleeping thing, I'll muse about it. (if I could blog while I slept - now THERE would be something useful - though I'd wager my subconscious mind is in desperate need of spellchecking)
But why sleep? I know why I need to - so my contacts cease burning. But ultimately why - farther back, when it all started?
If evolution is true, what naturalistic advantage could have arisen from sleeping? If this gave some incremental benefit to your sex life (or a-sex life in the case of lower life forms) thus making you more "evolutionarily successful" when would that have come into the mix? Early on? Paramecium siesta - probably not. You'd have to go to higher life forms that actually do the sleeping thing.
Having watched a number of wildlife specials, it has dawned on me that most higher lifeforms fall into the biological classification we know as "Meat." (the subcategories are something like; 1) Things I will eat 2) Things I won't eat and 3) Chinese Food, which exists in that foggy state between 1 and 2. This is more true of Chinese Chinese food, which is much better than American Chinese food, in part because of its mysteriousness.)
Anyhow, where is the evolutionary advantage for the first member of the heard who takes the plunge into unconsciousness? "Hey - you other gazelles just jump and frolic around for while. Me? I think I'll lay down for a little while on this buffet table and be completely unaware of my surroundings."
The chocolate chip cookies on my counter have as much of a chance. I know that there are biological reasons that sleep is good, but there does seem to be something more to it, doesn't there?
I have a 13 month old son, whom I love with everything in me. Watching him sleep is great. He sleeps well too. I think sleep, at a metaphysical/spiritual level, points us to a Father. Little John falls into the 'meat' category, and in wilder times when the food chain isn't as linear for us, he's at risk. Especially as a little kid. Little more chance against some wild animal than my chocolate chip cookies have against me. (I expect their defenses to remain low, but hope his will increase.)
John can rest because I am here. His dropping into unconsciousness (though he can't ultimately resist it) points to my presence. I will be there for him - to protect, to supply, to comfort and love him. He can sleep at ease, with no fear of what may come while he is dreaming, because I am his Father, and I would die to save and protect him.
For me, when I do manage to sleep, I rest pretty well. I believe there is a Father who, like me with my son, is there and vigilant. Perhaps I rest even better than little John (or should anyhow) because my powers to love, protect, watch and supply are limited by my own humanity. Very limited. God as a Father is unlimited. I can sleep soundly and secure. Not that bumps, bruises, scrapes, cuts and minor head trauma won't come in my life, but He's there for those as well.
An Old Testament verse comes to mind, something like this: "He who watches over Israel neither slumbers nor sleeps." I can't watch my son all night - I too must succumb to my needs. But there is one over whom no one must watch, for He watches over all and has no needs.
My sleep then could be an expression of trust. A physical need for restoration and regeneration, but also a spiritual need to be protected and other-reliant. I love that John sleeps well. He trusts us, and that makes me pretty stinking happy.
For those of you who call Him Father, I hope you go and sleep soundly tonight. I think Someone will be there, watching, listening...and smiling.
Goodnight John. Goodnight Father.
Whatever it is, I could sure use some. I've been going hard the last few weeks with work (starting things up on campus) and bonus work (creating the video promo for our Christmas Conference. You can check out the finished product on the website... www.christmasconference.com ) and man am I tired. Had a couple 3 hours of sleep nights. Oof.
I'm easily sidetracked, which leads to taking longer to get work done, which leads to staying up late and sleeping less, which tends to make me easily sidetracked. the Wee Hour Spiral. Perhaps I should watch some reality TV. Gosh - those shows. Apparently little brainwave activity on the reception end of them, and the creation end of them. But I should be finishing my video now, but since I'm blogging, I'll stay up late to finish. Ah well, no sonorous snoring tonight.
So, instead of doing the sleeping thing, I'll muse about it. (if I could blog while I slept - now THERE would be something useful - though I'd wager my subconscious mind is in desperate need of spellchecking)
But why sleep? I know why I need to - so my contacts cease burning. But ultimately why - farther back, when it all started?
If evolution is true, what naturalistic advantage could have arisen from sleeping? If this gave some incremental benefit to your sex life (or a-sex life in the case of lower life forms) thus making you more "evolutionarily successful" when would that have come into the mix? Early on? Paramecium siesta - probably not. You'd have to go to higher life forms that actually do the sleeping thing.
Having watched a number of wildlife specials, it has dawned on me that most higher lifeforms fall into the biological classification we know as "Meat." (the subcategories are something like; 1) Things I will eat 2) Things I won't eat and 3) Chinese Food, which exists in that foggy state between 1 and 2. This is more true of Chinese Chinese food, which is much better than American Chinese food, in part because of its mysteriousness.)
Anyhow, where is the evolutionary advantage for the first member of the heard who takes the plunge into unconsciousness? "Hey - you other gazelles just jump and frolic around for while. Me? I think I'll lay down for a little while on this buffet table and be completely unaware of my surroundings."
The chocolate chip cookies on my counter have as much of a chance. I know that there are biological reasons that sleep is good, but there does seem to be something more to it, doesn't there?
I have a 13 month old son, whom I love with everything in me. Watching him sleep is great. He sleeps well too. I think sleep, at a metaphysical/spiritual level, points us to a Father. Little John falls into the 'meat' category, and in wilder times when the food chain isn't as linear for us, he's at risk. Especially as a little kid. Little more chance against some wild animal than my chocolate chip cookies have against me. (I expect their defenses to remain low, but hope his will increase.)
John can rest because I am here. His dropping into unconsciousness (though he can't ultimately resist it) points to my presence. I will be there for him - to protect, to supply, to comfort and love him. He can sleep at ease, with no fear of what may come while he is dreaming, because I am his Father, and I would die to save and protect him.
For me, when I do manage to sleep, I rest pretty well. I believe there is a Father who, like me with my son, is there and vigilant. Perhaps I rest even better than little John (or should anyhow) because my powers to love, protect, watch and supply are limited by my own humanity. Very limited. God as a Father is unlimited. I can sleep soundly and secure. Not that bumps, bruises, scrapes, cuts and minor head trauma won't come in my life, but He's there for those as well.
An Old Testament verse comes to mind, something like this: "He who watches over Israel neither slumbers nor sleeps." I can't watch my son all night - I too must succumb to my needs. But there is one over whom no one must watch, for He watches over all and has no needs.
My sleep then could be an expression of trust. A physical need for restoration and regeneration, but also a spiritual need to be protected and other-reliant. I love that John sleeps well. He trusts us, and that makes me pretty stinking happy.
For those of you who call Him Father, I hope you go and sleep soundly tonight. I think Someone will be there, watching, listening...and smiling.
Goodnight John. Goodnight Father.
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Team Powerwasher Power
I spent most of the day on a ladder.
Had the day off today to compensate for a few Saturdays and I feel like I did a few Saturday's worth of work today. I powerwashed my house, and I'm peculiarly aware of some muscle groups - particularly of the arm variety.
The interesting thing really is that I paid for today's use of the powerwasher over a year ago. Early rental deposit? Nope. Unhappy customer credit? Nope. Bought it last year and forgot I had it until now? Nope.
Typically, I imagine most people would go one of two directions with the "I think I'll powerwash my house despite what the experts recommend and I'll need a powerwasher to do so" urge.
Alternative one is to add this tool to their tool belt. (It would be horribly uncomfortable to have a powerwasher strapped to your belt, so please remember that literalism can kill) There are a myriad of people like this where I live. Big houses, proportional shed, loose cash falling from them like Fall leaves. Between them and selling gargantuan packets of screws to people who need a total of 20 is why a local Home Depot can do a million in business on a good weekend. So, I could have fallen into category one.
Alternative two is the rental route. Again we find ourselves in Home Depot. (I find myself in Home Depot quite a bit more often than I had realized I would since buying a house. In fact, should I choose to disassemble my entire home, I'm sure I could find a bin, shelf, aisle or box for the sum total of it's parts at the store. There are probably 100 unrealized houses strewn across the expanse of that place. Rather than buying all those parts and assembling a fine, new home, I have chosen the "home replacement plan," wherein I slowly - over the course of decades - completely replace my home piece by piece. In the homeowner world, I'm more of a hemopheliac than an organ replacement. I suppose I should prefer the financial bloodletting to a major system failure. But what should I do with my 200 count boxes of screws left lying around after I use the 20 I need? Horrors! Now I need to buy another shelving unit! Sorry - was this a rant? Where was I?)
Ah yes - Rent. I could have rented my powerwasher. This is more up my alley. Though I chaff at the realization that after just 10 guys rent the $500 powerwasher for $50 a pop (please note my stellar math skills - It's an art degree that I have) it's all butter for the store, I do realize that it's the only way I'm going to have a powerwasher with which to powerfully wash. I 'own' it for a day but the real owner rakes in money like Fall leaves.
So did I rent the powerwasher? Nope. Nay - nor did I buy it. Well, sorta.
Turns out that a third alternative exists. One I don't usually think of. (Ok, a 4th really, but theft will lead to owning nothing and the only powerwashing going on would be in my brief and hyper-paranoid prison showers) So, there's another way for me to clean up the place.
Last year one of my new neighbors (I had just moved in) came to my door. Someone had the bright idea of harnessing the power of community. I live in a development based on the cul-de-sac (good concept, awful word) and probably 10 of the families in the immediate vicinity decided that instead of running out and buying it themselves, and instead of renting it for one stressed day - we'll use the power of community and get the best of both possibilities. I gladly wrote him a check for $50. I haven't used it until now, but I've lost nothing. I'll use it again sometime soon, and it won't cost me a thing. (ok - overpriced gas)
I wonder what else I miss along these lines? What other aspect of good community could help us all, were we to actually talk to our neighbors? I think there must be significant benefits that we miss out on when we're a society of loners - of fence builders and door closers. How many people really know their neighbors? What if, instead of a powerwasher, I could go to community for help with raising my kid, or a ride to work, or a hard situation? Could my $50 emotional investment yield a return of $500 in wisdom? Help? Love?
Of course - that depends. We share the powerwasher, but it has a regular place it's kept. Will everyone put it back when they're done? (it's 1 AM and as I write this it's sitting on my back porch - Hypocrite!!) Will they clean it up? Maintain it? Keep the parts, the directions and the warranty? Misuse it? There is a lot that could go wrong. It's a risk. My $50 could have been blown in the past year if the wrong kind of people were in it with me.
So far they haven't been. My neighbor knocked well. There are some in the neighborhood who were not asked. Some are not known, some are known - and were not asked. While there is wisdom in selection, you just never know.
For my part, I can't control the others in team-powerwasher. (But I could hose their flowerbeds if it got ugly) The person I can be responsible for is me. I can be the guy who is safe to invest in. I can be the guy who follows through and cares for our little community. I can be the door that others are able to knock on. That much I can do. If everyone follows suite, we should be ok, and I'll be powerwashing for years to come.
If I want the benefits of the community, I need to invest a little of myself and I need to follow through with caring for others' investments. To that end, I think I'll go put away the powerwasher.
And maybe someone in the cul-de-sac might need part of a box of screws.
Had the day off today to compensate for a few Saturdays and I feel like I did a few Saturday's worth of work today. I powerwashed my house, and I'm peculiarly aware of some muscle groups - particularly of the arm variety.
The interesting thing really is that I paid for today's use of the powerwasher over a year ago. Early rental deposit? Nope. Unhappy customer credit? Nope. Bought it last year and forgot I had it until now? Nope.
Typically, I imagine most people would go one of two directions with the "I think I'll powerwash my house despite what the experts recommend and I'll need a powerwasher to do so" urge.
Alternative one is to add this tool to their tool belt. (It would be horribly uncomfortable to have a powerwasher strapped to your belt, so please remember that literalism can kill) There are a myriad of people like this where I live. Big houses, proportional shed, loose cash falling from them like Fall leaves. Between them and selling gargantuan packets of screws to people who need a total of 20 is why a local Home Depot can do a million in business on a good weekend. So, I could have fallen into category one.
Alternative two is the rental route. Again we find ourselves in Home Depot. (I find myself in Home Depot quite a bit more often than I had realized I would since buying a house. In fact, should I choose to disassemble my entire home, I'm sure I could find a bin, shelf, aisle or box for the sum total of it's parts at the store. There are probably 100 unrealized houses strewn across the expanse of that place. Rather than buying all those parts and assembling a fine, new home, I have chosen the "home replacement plan," wherein I slowly - over the course of decades - completely replace my home piece by piece. In the homeowner world, I'm more of a hemopheliac than an organ replacement. I suppose I should prefer the financial bloodletting to a major system failure. But what should I do with my 200 count boxes of screws left lying around after I use the 20 I need? Horrors! Now I need to buy another shelving unit! Sorry - was this a rant? Where was I?)
Ah yes - Rent. I could have rented my powerwasher. This is more up my alley. Though I chaff at the realization that after just 10 guys rent the $500 powerwasher for $50 a pop (please note my stellar math skills - It's an art degree that I have) it's all butter for the store, I do realize that it's the only way I'm going to have a powerwasher with which to powerfully wash. I 'own' it for a day but the real owner rakes in money like Fall leaves.
So did I rent the powerwasher? Nope. Nay - nor did I buy it. Well, sorta.
Turns out that a third alternative exists. One I don't usually think of. (Ok, a 4th really, but theft will lead to owning nothing and the only powerwashing going on would be in my brief and hyper-paranoid prison showers) So, there's another way for me to clean up the place.
Last year one of my new neighbors (I had just moved in) came to my door. Someone had the bright idea of harnessing the power of community. I live in a development based on the cul-de-sac (good concept, awful word) and probably 10 of the families in the immediate vicinity decided that instead of running out and buying it themselves, and instead of renting it for one stressed day - we'll use the power of community and get the best of both possibilities. I gladly wrote him a check for $50. I haven't used it until now, but I've lost nothing. I'll use it again sometime soon, and it won't cost me a thing. (ok - overpriced gas)
I wonder what else I miss along these lines? What other aspect of good community could help us all, were we to actually talk to our neighbors? I think there must be significant benefits that we miss out on when we're a society of loners - of fence builders and door closers. How many people really know their neighbors? What if, instead of a powerwasher, I could go to community for help with raising my kid, or a ride to work, or a hard situation? Could my $50 emotional investment yield a return of $500 in wisdom? Help? Love?
Of course - that depends. We share the powerwasher, but it has a regular place it's kept. Will everyone put it back when they're done? (it's 1 AM and as I write this it's sitting on my back porch - Hypocrite!!) Will they clean it up? Maintain it? Keep the parts, the directions and the warranty? Misuse it? There is a lot that could go wrong. It's a risk. My $50 could have been blown in the past year if the wrong kind of people were in it with me.
So far they haven't been. My neighbor knocked well. There are some in the neighborhood who were not asked. Some are not known, some are known - and were not asked. While there is wisdom in selection, you just never know.
For my part, I can't control the others in team-powerwasher. (But I could hose their flowerbeds if it got ugly) The person I can be responsible for is me. I can be the guy who is safe to invest in. I can be the guy who follows through and cares for our little community. I can be the door that others are able to knock on. That much I can do. If everyone follows suite, we should be ok, and I'll be powerwashing for years to come.
If I want the benefits of the community, I need to invest a little of myself and I need to follow through with caring for others' investments. To that end, I think I'll go put away the powerwasher.
And maybe someone in the cul-de-sac might need part of a box of screws.
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