Meter still running

My auntie, who lives in Beijing
Once showed me a curious thing:
She jumped in the air,
Just hovered right there,
And crowed "That's what makes me the king!"

-J 

Stay with me.

There's nothing at all wrong with Trixie from Speed Racer. She is intelligent and capable, she is resourceful... she can pilot a helicopter. She is a perfectly respectable and attractive woman. But she doesn't really do anything for me beyond that. The world is full of people like that. I am predisposed to focus on the women, but it's universal. Together people, successful people, bright people who do not hold my attention. Idly wondering why, I started to think about what key component she might be missing, and found a rabbit hole that tumbled away into a very difficult place to explain.
J.D Salinger died today and it made me wonder if this generation will produce anything of lasting merit. Harry Potter and Twilight are perfectly good stories, and entertaining to be sure, but on a core level I don't feel like they have anything to say. They are built on established patterns of human interest, repackaging what we know we like with lots of cleverness. But they don't have any ideas. They're not saying something. They are not art.
When I hear the word "artist", habit coaches me to think of an illustrator or painter. Of course the word is not so narrow. One of the shortfalls of my native language is its habit of inferring specifics out of broad terms. When someone says "I'm an artist," we should reflexively ask them to clarify. I'm not sure what this period in history will create that later generations will talk about, or require their students to write reports on. I can't think of any films or books. Sculpture, music, stage plays? I shrug. It's impossible to judge. Bach and Van Gogh only gained popularity many decades after their lives had ended. But the goal of art I feel is more than to "communicate"; it's too vague. If you don't know what you're trying to say, if you haven't attached yourself to an idea, you cannot produce art. So what is art, then? The attempt to marry some aspect of greater truth with emotion. That's my definition. An artist has a need in their heart to keep returning to this impossible challenge. It's something that only another artist will ever really understand. That's why Trixie and all those others simply glance off of me without purchase. They will always seem two-dimensional to me; they have no handhold here.
My interest is arrested by a girl with poetry of the soul.

-J

Cheer up, Billy Corgan

"Every time you feel despair you can trace that feeling back to an idol."
-Pastor Tim Smith, North Regional Event, 1/27/10

-J

Yeah, this one's about you too.

Hi.  I didn't get a chance to check my email yesterday except for during breakfast.  You should be proud - I got home and ate something and went straight to bed.  So I got your yesterday-email this morning and it made me happy and also kind of wistful because last night was so enduringly pleasant.  So I'm writing to you here because I didn't know if you checked your personal email or facebook at work, and I know you don't have internet at home yet.
How is Gus?  He seemed to be adapting pretty well last night; enough at least to be jealous of all the attention we were paying each other.  I hope you slept really well.  I am joyous for you.
Friday: over here?  Dinner?  Christen my fireplace?  "Life of Birds"?  Friday-after-that I'm hoping to invite over Steven & Randi, this would be the 6th 5th I'm talking about.  Anyways, we can talk.  I just miss you is all, and writing to you here helps because I know you'll read it in a few hours.
=) 

-J

This one goes out to all my Erins.

Why are you in despair, O my soul? And why have you become disturbed within me?  Hope in God, for I shall again praise Him for the help of His presence. [Psalm 42:5]

I don't know why this one has been so hard for me to let go of... I've been annoyed before.  I've obviously been getting frustrated in the back of my mind for a while now, and it just boiled over.  I was well and truly mad last night, mixed with self-justified and depressed.  It was not a good place.  Being still sick didn't help; at a certain point I just want to grab my body by the lapels and be like, "Really?  Really?".  And I was aggravated that I was so focused on my own stuff that I couldn't be more supportive of you like I wanted to be.  And I did want to be.  My brain just has not let this thing go, like Gus coming back to roll on a spot on the lawn in the rain.  And for what?  To bring in a lot of wetness and crud and then sit on your bed.  
Not the model I wish to follow.

I read the bible some last night, which was a good idea, and I prayed which was also a good idea.  This morning things seemed more approachable.  I have sort of stepped back from where I thought I was to take a reading on my actual position.  You can tune the strings to each other, but that's not the same thing as "in tune".
Where I know what I need, it it my responsibility to pursue.  I got confused yesterday as to what my job description was.  This morning I remembered.

My job is to bring glory to Jesus.  Beyond that, my job is to do or be whatever they say.  It's comforting to break it down like that.  As long as I'm working hard, I'm accomplishing my prime objective.  And if I am truly not being dealt with fairly - God knows, and not I - I am accomplishing my first objective even more when I still work hard.

This post was supposed to be about you and how much I like you.  It's really quite a lot.  I had to work through this thing and I wanted to share it with you.  Because it's "we".  Because I love that it's "we".
And I love the note you sent me on Facebook on Sunday night telling me you missed me.  And I love that you said Happy Weekiversary because I was thinking about saying it to you.  And I am really looking forward to you tonight.  EVEN IF: you are tired, or had a rough day, or aren't feeling well, or have caught some weird disease where you can no longer pronounce the letter K, or even all of those things.  Because those aren't you.  They're just variables in an equation that will always end with 'I am happy to see you'.
Everything will be okay.
Especially everything.

-J

Oh, how easily I become disheartened.  How I reach for solace from the mind's exodus to discouragement, and the bitter sarcasm of self-justification.
Growing up means putting hurt to work for the gospel.

I saw a rainbow today, and Jesus loves me.

-J

'Tomorrow' is defined as: the day that happens after I go to bed

The Christian Man

1) Works. 
-Gen 3:19 In the sweat of your face you shall eat bread until you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken. For dust you are, and to dust you shall return.
-Mat 7:7 Ask and it shall be given to you; seek and you shall find; knock and it shall be opened to you.
-2Ti 2:15 Study earnestly to present yourself approved to God, a workman that does not need to be ashamed, rightly dividing the Word of Truth.

2) Takes up responsibility. [For that which he is accountable, not just for that which is "his fault"]
-Gen 44:33 And now please let your servant remain instead of the boy as a slave to my lord. And let the boy go up with his brothers.
-Eph 5:25 Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church and gave Himself for it

3) Leads.
-1Ti 5:8 But if anyone does not provide for his own, and especially his family, he has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever.
-1Ti 3:12 Let deacons be husbands of one wife, ruling their children and their own houses well.

4) Creates and cultivates.
-Gen 2:15 And Jehovah God took the man and put him into the garden of Eden to work it and keep it.
-1Pet 3:7 Likewise, husbands, live with your wives in an understanding way, showing honor to the woman as the weaker vessel, since they are heirs with you of the grace of life, so that your prayers may not be hindered.

-J

2 Corinthians 10:5

"Thank you, Lord, for this opportunity to work harder - for Your glory, and for Erin." > "Well, it'll be some extra money.  That'll be nice." > "Man, I would really rather not work two extra hours every day." > "Why wasn't I consulted about this?"

Read these in reverse order to trace my thought process through the day.  New shop hours will be tested in February, but how many of them I'll be working is as yet undetermined.

-J

1/21/10

Leaving for work in a minute. It's a good sign; things must be picking back up. This will be the second time in January that they've had me come in before my official start, and I don't know if that happened twice in all of '09. I just missed your call last night. It was nice to hear your voice. I realized just a moment after I left my message for you that it was your CG night, and last week you were only home because you were sick.
This is a placeholder post. I plan to write something more interesting later today.
Tonight the men from my community group are meeting at the pancake corral. I have been waiting patiently all week to tell them about you.

♥
-J

Most faithful mirror

Still feeling out-of-sorts.  Like I'm recovering from karmic flu.  Improving, though.  Trajectory is always what counts the most.
The first time I watched Castle in the Sky was when I was living out in Wenatchee.  I loved it so much.  Somewhere inside me is a deep yearning for the sky.  I got out my sketch notebook and designed a house that could be suspended from a balloon.  I calculated the volume of the balloon to lift the amount of weight and everything.  Designed it to be almost self-sufficient, with solar power and water recycling... you could lower it down and go fishing, or use the fish to fish for birds... I thought it would be a neat project for a university.  Semester a-sky.

-J

525,600 minutes

Once upon a time I was in the High School drama club back at Juanita.  I had been a member since I started there, and it was now fall of my second year.  We were doing a variety show for our October production, a group of unrelated whatevers.  Darien and I had auditioned with a section of 'Rozencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead', and I had tried to round up some gents to sing a showtune piece, but neither act made it through the first round.  I was assigned to help "run sound".  But the show already had someone to run sound.  The choir director, Mr. Whitbeck.  So he sat at the sound board and actually ran sound, and my partner Jenny and I divided up the rest of the workload: one of us would put the appropriate CD in the player, and the other one would push 'play'.
One of the acts was a foursome of students who were singing "Seasons of Love" from Rent.  They all had nice enough voices, but their performance didn't do much for me.  So I'm hanging about in the theater one rehearsal, and Mac, the drama director, turns to ME and says, "Jeremy, could you go with these guys to help work on their performance?"  Gasp-ola!  Well, okay, I'll try.  But I had never directed anything before.  We went out into the school hall, and they sang it for an audience of me, and I had nothing.  "Um... maybe you should walk slower when you're going from there to here."  That was the sum total of the constructive criticism I offered them.  I wasn't prepared; I was surprised by the moment and had no framework for the assistance I was to provide.  I was not asked to help in that capacity again for the rest of my time in High School.  So, Jeremy of many years ago, here is what you should have said:

"What is it that you are trying to accomplish?  If this is just a pretty song, then there's no reason to emote or walk around or sit down.  Those actions will have no meaning unless you know why you're doing them and they are coming from the heart of the music.  What is your specific part of the song about, to you?  Your lines, your harmony?  The audience doesn't need to know how they are supposed to feel, but rather go on a journey with you.  You need to feel it first, and take them there."

-J   

Blogger's block

This weekend it was hard to avoid you. You were everywhere present around me. Things I wanted to watch with you, or enjoy with you, or laugh about. Life I wanted to share with you.
Don't feel bad at all; feel hope. The future is full of birds and wonder.

-J

01/15/10

If our souls never ache, we may be safely assured that we are not growing.

-J

Post of Shortness +1

"If you're not prepared to be wrong, you'll never come up with anything original."
- Sir Ken Robinson

He talked about how the education system in the United States keeps trying to streamline things like the auto industry.  But a car has no interest in the processes that inform its life.  Unlike a child.  We are not teaching subjects; we are teaching people.  Which is wonderfully freeing in a way, for someone like me who is afraid of parenting.  It's not like passing a test.  More akin to keeping a garden.  You can't make a plant grow.  You can only create an environment in which growth is possible, and encouraged.

The fourth day in a row I've come to church.  I keep finding reasons.  It's not so bad, though; I'm getting a lot done.  Friday: straight home after work.  Which means I'll miss a day of blogging for the first time.

I'll write something amazing, though.  I just won't be able to post it up for a couple of days.

-J

Jumpdrive

A lot on my mind today. I told it all to my cellphone so I wouldn't have to carry it in my head.
"Thinking about: superfluous trivia." Okay, this one came up last night. I've felt my brain so much cleaner without my computer in my home, and I finally figured out why. I've got this appetite for knowledge. The problem is, I don't tend to differentiate between knowledge and information. They are not the same. They are not the same! Looking up pictures of orchid roots or trying to find what movie I'm half-remembering, these things are not of any merit. They do not increase me. I've had this analogy in my head the last few days of my world as a circle. I see lines extending from myself, where I sit in the center, and I want to reach out for these areas that draw me. There is a circumference, however, which limits me. And in order to reach further - to love better, to pray more earnestly, to enjoy my relationship with God and others more fully - I cannot extend those lines until I first increase the size of the circle; increase myself. Trivia is of no lasting benefit. I am not helped. Just temporarily satisfied. This fast has helped me to see with unclouded eyes. Now I must train myself to be discerning.
"Thinking about: suppressing the gospel." [For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek. For in it the righteousness of God is revealed from faith for faith, as it is written, "The righteous shall live by faith." For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who by their unrighteousness suppress the truth.] Rom 1:16-18
[So everyone who acknowledges me before men, I also will acknowledge before my Father who is in heaven, but whoever denies me before men, I also will deny before my Father who is in heaven.] Mat 10:32-33
If we do not confess Jesus, we are suppressing the truth. Suppressing the gospel. I am ashamed of my limited understanding of the gospel, and of my too-small faith. But the gospel I am not ashamed of.
"Thinking about: my tendency to antagonize in the face of hostility." This probably is larger than a sidenote in a blog post.
Okay, it started here:
Men and Marriage
http://www.marshillchurch.org/media/trial/marriage-and-men
which should be watched after:
Women and Marriage
http://www.marshillchurch.org/media/trial/marriage-and-women
I watched both of these yesterday, and I recommend them. They are super-interesting. Knowledge. These increase. And like all worthwhile growth, they are not entirely comfortable. I was raised by a single mom in a very liberal home, which meant "1) men and women are the same, and 2) avoid conflict at all costs". And I'm not into being yelled at either. So the "Men" sermon was a tough one to listen to. NOTES ABOUT MEN: In the "Men" video, Pastor Mark describes eight caricatures of horrible men, four under the banner of "Chauvinism" and four under "Cowardice". Every man gravitates towards at least one of these. Not IS one, but has at least one that they are most in danger of becoming, or have overcome being. Me, I am like numbers 1 and 4 on the cowardice side. I think knowing is an excellent first step.
Anyways, it was and is a great sermon; the eight ways to honor your wife are ones to commit to memory. Mark also yells a lot, and I noticed for not the first time that my gut instinct to aggravation is to needle back. If someone is mad at me, I want to make them madder. If someone is focusing negative emotions at me, my desire will be to become that which is most opposite to what they want. Sarcasm, flippant disregard, patronizing tone, and emotionless stonewalling. It is all, really, just a fancy embossed and clever form of self-justification, which is the same as self-worship. It's a way of denying that I'm in any way in the wrong, or need to change. Gotta catch it early. Gotta rebuke it firmly. Gotta increase the circle.

-J

Once upon a time

Two great things.  I was dropping off a delivery today at an architectural firm; they always have the nicest offices (true!).  In the elevator lobby were the results of maybe a competition or just an art project jam... a series of structures, all made with business cards.  There was a tall slender building that gracefully twisted 90 degrees as it rose.  A bulky, imposing cube.  A strange, spiky tower.  A delicately cut lattice of maple leaves.  I wish I could have stayed longer to look at them; the elevator came and I was off to my next delivery.
Later in the day I saw a rainbow.

I remember...

I remember watching Where the Wild Things Are.  I drove to the theater before I picked you up and bought tickets so that we could just walk through the door all cool.  I remember coffee for three hours after.  You said you didn't want to string me along.  I said that where I went, I went because it was my choice.  I remember walking to Victor's Coffee and walking back.  I remember giving you magical strawberries, and rereading your blog posts to see if I was there anywhere between the lines.  I remember when you said you weren't ready for a date, and I remember three days later when you said yes.  I remember a Christmas morning text from you.  I remember finding a piece of ribbon beneath your keyboard and staring at it dumbfounded for a while.

-J

of Many Hands

I forgot my computer at church on Sunday night, and it only took being home fifteen minutes for me to realize that my laptop has become an idol.  This morning as I shook off the cobwebs and had breakfast I began to count how many times I thought, "oh, I'll just hop on the computer," and was up to a baker's dozen before I left the house. Not everything was useless time-wasting; I wanted to compare some bible verses, and write to you. But most of it was absolutely extraneous nonsense, and any one of those things would have shredded my morning routine.  Like they have been doing every day for the past few weeks.  Without my computer I 1) was more productive last night and this morning than I have been in quite a while, 2) felt really great and 3) missed out on absolutely nothing of real importance.  I'm here at the church, typing this on it now. But when I go home, soon, I'm leaving it here.  Not forever.  But probably all this week.
An idol is something that takes the place of God in one's life.  I haven't been worshiping my computer, but it has been devouring my time mercilessly.  In that sense, I have indeed been sacrificing to it. I get out of bed in the morning and check facebook; I come home from work and read livejournal while I eat my lunch.  I check my email before going to bed.  There's nothing wrong or evil about any of these things, but combined they and my other surfing / whatever represent an incredible amount of time, and almost anything else would have been more worthwhile.  When I have made sure to doublecheck my inbox but have somehow run out of time to read the bible in the morning, claxons should be sounding in my head. I am grateful that God is sovereign over my memory.  I probably could have gone a lot longer fooling myself if I hadn't been forced to face it so directly.  
Earlier on Sunday morning my friend Josh was telling me about quitting smoking.  He would hop into his truck and reflexively reach for a phantom pack of cigarettes he used to keep there.  On the drive home, as he got off the freeway he would reach for them again. Every day he was confronted with patterns built by addiction.  I felt like that.  It was humbling, and made me very grateful to God for His patience with me, and grace.
Last night I told you I wanted to wait one more date to get my head straight.  I didn't know exactly what I meant by that, except that I could feel that something in my life wasn't quite worthy of bringing you into it yet.  This was it.
So I've confessed to God, and to one of my Christian brothers (Tobias Klauder, my old CG leader) so as to be held accountable, and this week I'm going to leave my laptop in the office.  I'll be in on Wednesday for sure.  Don't know when else. You are welcome to call me, I'll still have my phone.  I'd like it; an effect of no longer having instant email / facebook access any time my fancy strikes is that I can't stop thinking about you.

-J

Hermia's Story

Heathen

Try to took backwards to find the whisper which trails you, and you will tumble from the fence.  Twitch your tail as you run and so avoid the grasping shadows.  Dart, to the tallest, to the farthest, and look not back.  A sorrowful cat.  A white cat.  Heathen by name.  Blue eyes, caked with hardship, sad coat, dusty and matted.  He did not twitch his tail, and so lost it to an eagle's talons.  A loud breath, he cannot hide himself.  A quiet purr, he cannot comfort himself.  
The cry of the white cat haunts the morning.  He is harried by crows and hunger lives in his belly.  Who here has heard him?  Where will his head find rest?  
Not in the marshes, not in the wet paws and damp fur.  Not where the slow soft earth lingers 'round the feet to slow the stride, ducks floating effortlessly away just out of reach through the tall yellow grasses.  No, not in the marsh where the red-winged blackbird calls sweetly from the tip of the reed, where the ground gives in to betray the leap.  

The warcry of the white cat rattles past the sunset.  He is unwelcome, carrying the seeds of illness with him.  Who here has felt him?  Where will his whiskers be still?

Not in the forests, in the cold shadows.  The weightless squirrel is supported by barely a branch and cannot be caught.  Rain is shed from the endless needles above, the needles accumulate and poke between the pads from below.  The serpent hunts in the night, he smells upon his tongue, flickering to find soft flesh.
The lament of the white cat shivers through the night.  He is searching for something.  He is ever seeking.  Who here has smelled him?  Where does his path end?

Not in the hills, on the hard rocks.  The jagged spikes that split the hard soil, the circling birds.  There is no cover, no safe place.  The coyote's sharp teeth have no mercy, he grins like a cold skull always.  He howls his laugh in the night, seeking his dinner.  The hawk hovers ever above, hidden in the sun, sharp eyes that see through clouds and through skin and into the soul.
When you see the white cat, you will know what he seeks.  His cry in the morning has warned you to make yourself ready.  His warcry in the evening has called to you steel your heart.  His lament in the night has made a dirge for your memory.  When the white cat finds you, do not twitch your tail.  Follow bravely the white cat.  When Heathen comes for you, do not look back.   

-J

Last call

Almost forgot.  But not quite.
An after-something.  And this fluffy lightness, like my chest is full of down and helium.  And I have warm fingers.
That is enough.

-J

Cultivation

I have an orchid that I keep in my room, and it makes me feel good. Plants give me a peace to be near, I love how they work, and how they're beautiful without trying. I love how complex they are, systems within systems within systems, with no muscles, no consciousness, just a blueprint of infinite detail and a seed, and "go". The flowers on my orchid have started to wilt, and the reason is that I have not watered it for nearly three weeks. I haven't watered it! This plant I love that makes me happy! The sink is NOT FAR. Seven, eight steps away at most. And I know I need to water my orchid every week. It needs water on the inside for a while before it starts showing it on the outside; it is resilient. External clues mean there has been a period of neglect already.
Yeah, this analogy carries. I watered it yesterday, but it will lose at least one flower. Maybe more, depending on the stress. And I feel bad about it, but why didn't I take six minutes and do this any time in the last fortnight? I am often bad at maintenance. I am particularly bad at self-maintenance. I do not care for myself in the way I know I need. For some reason I forget every time until it starts showing on the outside. If there had been a little card that came with me from the shop with my latin name and basic care instruction, it would say I need to be watered daily, with prayer and with scripture.
I can be resilient for a little while. But enduring is not what I want my legacy to be. Come on, me. Passion is easy; consistency is hard. It is our consistency which ultimately defines us.

-J

Only in dreams

Ways in which I differ from Rivers Cuomo:

- Beverly Hills is not where I want to be.
- I do not look just like Buddy Holly.
- I am fully capable of looking in your eyes without shakin'.

-J

Scone is the lonliest number

About to leave for work, but I'm eating a scone so it's an okay morning.  It would be naïve of me to really think that any morning with a scone is somehow magically okay, regardless of additional circumstances...
Pssh.  Of course I don't believe that.

:shiftyeyes:

-J

A beginning is a very delicate time

Oh what a nice evening. Having to ask for guests to bring folding chairs means that something has gone wonderfully right. Thirteen people makes a new record for my little condo, and we all fit within reason both around the table and in front of the movie (which was just as strange as I remembered). Dinner conversation was animated and engaging, and desserts were plentiful. Last night was also the first time a guest has had to crash out on my couch, so this afternoon when I got up there was still a friend over. This was beneficial, because I'm not certain I would have made breakfast otherwise. We chatted and watched Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, and I sent him on his way a little while ago. Now I have a place to clean, which is a nice feeling of something-to-do, and something-well-done.
I'll get round to it this afternoon and evening.
Tomorrow is another day off, and I'm looking forward to sleeping through most of it. And then follows Sunday. It will be a good year.

-J