I re-opened my Josephus: The Essential Works book there on Friday and read another chapter in it. I don't know why I ever stopped.
While opening it, I passed by the signature by the author, who gave a seminar in Corner Brook last year. The ink reads:
"Greetings in ☧!
Paul L. Maier"
That symbol, how had I forgotten it? So neat. Today I was sort of just drawing them here and there. For those who don't know, it's referred to as the "Labarum" or "Chi Ro," and it's the first two letters of the Greek word for Christ (ΧΡΙΣΤΟΣ-Christos) superimposed on each other. (Thanks Wikipedia!)
Anyways, the whole thing was sort of a key part to Constantine's conversion. Apparently before a major battle during his campaign to reunite the Roman Empire, the symbol appeared before Constantine near the sun. In a dream that night, he was told by God "In this sign, conquer," often translated to the Latin "In Hoc Signo Vinces."
Before the battle, the new symbol was instituted as the army's standard, being drawn on shields and banners. The battle was won, and tradition dictates that Constantine converted to Christianity shortly after.
After reading some things about the conversion, I can see that the record isn't in unanimous agreement about Constantine's conversion, and the legitimacy of the symbol. However, it is a nice story at the very least, and a pretty cool symbol.
I think I'll adopt it as my standard. "In Hoc Signo Vinces"
26 February 2007
Victory
Today was a day of victory.
I just thought I'd put that out there.
During the YFM retreat, we watched a bit of a Christian movie, I forget the title of. It was fairly cheesy, but my favorite scene was where a football player was told to do the "Death Crawl" (crawling with your knees off the ground and a person on your back) for 50 meters, blindfolded. All anybody had done previously, was 20 meters. All during the crawl, the coach was leaning down and saying "Just a bit further! Keep going! Don't give up now! You're almost there!"
When the boy finally collapsed, he was in the other end-zone. The coach had ignored the 50 yard line, and ended up having the guy crawl the whole length of the field.
"God doesn't expect us to do everything. Just the next thing."
In other news, I've got to admit, I'm feeling a bit unwelcome at a new forum I've been going to for the past week. I started a discussion on Evolution vs. Creationism, simply asking why people believed what they did, not demanding explanations or whatever. In the end, I told how the jury is still out for me.
I got 3 personal messages, one giving me a quick lesson in Hebrew, for understanding the context of the Genesis story. Another one was telling me about the problems in the scientific community surrounding creationism. My favorite one, however, came from a Girl who didn't sound like she really cared why I believed what I believed. The last thing in her message was pretty much telling me that the reason that no creationist had 'swayed' me is because I have issues with faith and my belief in scripture. I'd rather believe science, which is grounded in fact.
I was astounded. So I have to choose faith blindly, over fact? Call me a doubting Thompson (hah!), but if it comes down to blind acceptance vs. proof, I'm going with proof every time. I don't think she understands the fact that Faith and Fact aren't mutually exclusive.
Too bad.
A post on the YFM retreat will hopefully come in the next day or two. I've got some sleeping to do right now.
I just thought I'd put that out there.
During the YFM retreat, we watched a bit of a Christian movie, I forget the title of. It was fairly cheesy, but my favorite scene was where a football player was told to do the "Death Crawl" (crawling with your knees off the ground and a person on your back) for 50 meters, blindfolded. All anybody had done previously, was 20 meters. All during the crawl, the coach was leaning down and saying "Just a bit further! Keep going! Don't give up now! You're almost there!"
When the boy finally collapsed, he was in the other end-zone. The coach had ignored the 50 yard line, and ended up having the guy crawl the whole length of the field.
"God doesn't expect us to do everything. Just the next thing."
In other news, I've got to admit, I'm feeling a bit unwelcome at a new forum I've been going to for the past week. I started a discussion on Evolution vs. Creationism, simply asking why people believed what they did, not demanding explanations or whatever. In the end, I told how the jury is still out for me.
I got 3 personal messages, one giving me a quick lesson in Hebrew, for understanding the context of the Genesis story. Another one was telling me about the problems in the scientific community surrounding creationism. My favorite one, however, came from a Girl who didn't sound like she really cared why I believed what I believed. The last thing in her message was pretty much telling me that the reason that no creationist had 'swayed' me is because I have issues with faith and my belief in scripture. I'd rather believe science, which is grounded in fact.
I was astounded. So I have to choose faith blindly, over fact? Call me a doubting Thompson (hah!), but if it comes down to blind acceptance vs. proof, I'm going with proof every time. I don't think she understands the fact that Faith and Fact aren't mutually exclusive.
Too bad.
A post on the YFM retreat will hopefully come in the next day or two. I've got some sleeping to do right now.
22 February 2007
Pain
My everything hurts. (hahah, look at the birdies!)
On the plus side, I discovered an incredible new sensation. You know when your foot is asleep? Well it's kind of like that ... just on my face! It was actually really cool-feeling, but I'm taking it as a bad sign, seeming as I had just come in from the cold.
If I didn't fear hypothermia, I'd try it again.
20 February 2007
Bridge to Terabithia
Seriously? Fantastic movie.
You don't understand. I can say with confidence that this book was probably my favorite as a kid, next to the Guests of War trilogy. I didn't remember many of the details, but the basics of the book have stuck with me.
And seeing it as a movie ... as I said, I didn't remember much on the finer points, but as a standalone, the movie was fantastic. It's refreshing to see a family movie that tries to teach you something.
I'll not get into it, because many of my comments revolve around a certain major plot element, but seriously, go and see it. I don't care how old you are.
Go. Now.
Why are you still reading? GO!
You don't understand. I can say with confidence that this book was probably my favorite as a kid, next to the Guests of War trilogy. I didn't remember many of the details, but the basics of the book have stuck with me.
And seeing it as a movie ... as I said, I didn't remember much on the finer points, but as a standalone, the movie was fantastic. It's refreshing to see a family movie that tries to teach you something.
I'll not get into it, because many of my comments revolve around a certain major plot element, but seriously, go and see it. I don't care how old you are.
Go. Now.
Why are you still reading? GO!
19 February 2007
Good People
Yay 200 posts at Gibeon Café.
I have to say, I'm getting a bit sick of people saying what they are.
People say they're mature. They're smart. They're a good person. But are those distinctions you're allowed to make about yourself? I personally don't think so.
The attitude is sort of summed up here ...
"I'm no adolescent. Call me a child, or call me an adult. I choose not to be a teenager. You choose what I am."
Some days I feel adult, and some days I feel childish. Some people seem to think of me as one, and others, the other.
Obviously I have a preference, but in order to be called a good person, for example, I can't just declare it. Act how I think a good person should act. If somebody notices, then and only then, do they and only they, get to make that decision on whether I am good or not.
Now to figure out what set my mind on this path ...
I have to say, I'm getting a bit sick of people saying what they are.
People say they're mature. They're smart. They're a good person. But are those distinctions you're allowed to make about yourself? I personally don't think so.
The attitude is sort of summed up here ...
"I'm no adolescent. Call me a child, or call me an adult. I choose not to be a teenager. You choose what I am."
Some days I feel adult, and some days I feel childish. Some people seem to think of me as one, and others, the other.
Obviously I have a preference, but in order to be called a good person, for example, I can't just declare it. Act how I think a good person should act. If somebody notices, then and only then, do they and only they, get to make that decision on whether I am good or not.
Now to figure out what set my mind on this path ...
Dreams and Journals
After a great night at YFM (my conversational hiatus with a certain interesting mind finally ended) I came home and hopped on MSN. Zach and I had a rather large conversation about dreams.
Maybe I'll post the guts of the conversation later, but here is the skeleton: I was sort of feeling down at the realization that the dreams I have today aren't going to be fully realized. Tomorrow I'll have a different, possibly more realizable dream, and I'll settle for achieving that. But the dream I have today, this grand goal, will probably not be realized.
The conversation basically went from there into whether that's a bad thing. If we continually chased the big dream, a lot of us would feel unsatisfied when we don't achieve our goal. If we modify our goal for something slightly more achievable, we'll still get a sense of accomplishment once we reach our goal.
From there we discussed what a person who continues to chase the largest dreams looks like. For somebody who feels forced into accepting the "lesser goal," the person who continues to chase his "greater goal" is a fool, worthy of contempt. For somebody who chooses his "lesser goal," understands why it has to be that way, and/or still feels a large sense of achievement, the person who continues to chase is "greater goal" is somebody to be respected, because he's not settling for what's good, or respectable. He wants what he wants, and believes is the best.
I guess everybody hopes they'll be the one who shoots for the highest goal all the time, and honestly, some people's "greater goal" might sound unincredible, like teaching math. But doesn't everybody have one absurdly amazing dream? Maybe it's to visit a certain country, or to be world-famous for something. Is it a bad thing to give up on those, since they might not be attainable? To tie it in with Deal or No Deal, is it okay to settle for the banker's $240, 000 rather than hold out for the $1 000 000, chances are you don't even have anyways?
So those were the thoughts for tonight. I might not even have anything left to go more depth into.
However, something else struck me about the conversation. It happened over MSN. Socrates and Glaucon, in Plato's dialogues, didn't have computers. They met in Athens. I've been reading a book about C.S. Lewis and Sigmund Freud, and a lot of what is referenced are letters and journals.
I don't write letters, and I don't keep a journal. But I wonder ... if the next generation wanted to write about me ... would they go to my blog and email in the same way we go to Lewis' letters and journals? Will these electronic sources be around for that long?
Should I start printing?
Maybe I'll post the guts of the conversation later, but here is the skeleton: I was sort of feeling down at the realization that the dreams I have today aren't going to be fully realized. Tomorrow I'll have a different, possibly more realizable dream, and I'll settle for achieving that. But the dream I have today, this grand goal, will probably not be realized.
The conversation basically went from there into whether that's a bad thing. If we continually chased the big dream, a lot of us would feel unsatisfied when we don't achieve our goal. If we modify our goal for something slightly more achievable, we'll still get a sense of accomplishment once we reach our goal.
From there we discussed what a person who continues to chase the largest dreams looks like. For somebody who feels forced into accepting the "lesser goal," the person who continues to chase his "greater goal" is a fool, worthy of contempt. For somebody who chooses his "lesser goal," understands why it has to be that way, and/or still feels a large sense of achievement, the person who continues to chase is "greater goal" is somebody to be respected, because he's not settling for what's good, or respectable. He wants what he wants, and believes is the best.
I guess everybody hopes they'll be the one who shoots for the highest goal all the time, and honestly, some people's "greater goal" might sound unincredible, like teaching math. But doesn't everybody have one absurdly amazing dream? Maybe it's to visit a certain country, or to be world-famous for something. Is it a bad thing to give up on those, since they might not be attainable? To tie it in with Deal or No Deal, is it okay to settle for the banker's $240, 000 rather than hold out for the $1 000 000, chances are you don't even have anyways?
So those were the thoughts for tonight. I might not even have anything left to go more depth into.
However, something else struck me about the conversation. It happened over MSN. Socrates and Glaucon, in Plato's dialogues, didn't have computers. They met in Athens. I've been reading a book about C.S. Lewis and Sigmund Freud, and a lot of what is referenced are letters and journals.
I don't write letters, and I don't keep a journal. But I wonder ... if the next generation wanted to write about me ... would they go to my blog and email in the same way we go to Lewis' letters and journals? Will these electronic sources be around for that long?
Should I start printing?
18 February 2007
Music and the Chinese New Year
=====
Nemo had listened to the song more than ten times before the lyrics hit him.
"They lied when they said the good die young."
He wasn't dead. If he wasn't "good" already, he swore then to make sure he became good. He would make the lyric true.
"Now to determine what 'good' is ... " Nemo muttered to himself in an empty house.
=====
So, last night there was a Chinese New Year event at MUN. I have to say, it was a blast. The food was a plus. I don't really like Chinese food, but it was actually pretty good last night. It all got eaten, at any rate.
Then the entertainment was good too. The lion dance was nicer to watch than I'd have expected MUN to have. Then comedians chattering in Mandarin, Chinese music, and lots of dance. Tai Chi too. I want to learn that, it'd be pretty cool.
New jeans in the next few days, and possibly a book (I'm almost finished Plato's Republic). Also, YFM retreat next weekend. Too bad I'll be missing cousin's night. I'll make it up some other time.
I'm hoping random things will continue to happen this week.
And I hope that this feeling of dread: the idea that I'll never achieve today's dreams, will fade away quickly. I don't care how impossible they are, they're going to happen.
Nemo had listened to the song more than ten times before the lyrics hit him.
"They lied when they said the good die young."
He wasn't dead. If he wasn't "good" already, he swore then to make sure he became good. He would make the lyric true.
"Now to determine what 'good' is ... " Nemo muttered to himself in an empty house.
=====
So, last night there was a Chinese New Year event at MUN. I have to say, it was a blast. The food was a plus. I don't really like Chinese food, but it was actually pretty good last night. It all got eaten, at any rate.
Then the entertainment was good too. The lion dance was nicer to watch than I'd have expected MUN to have. Then comedians chattering in Mandarin, Chinese music, and lots of dance. Tai Chi too. I want to learn that, it'd be pretty cool.
New jeans in the next few days, and possibly a book (I'm almost finished Plato's Republic). Also, YFM retreat next weekend. Too bad I'll be missing cousin's night. I'll make it up some other time.
I'm hoping random things will continue to happen this week.
And I hope that this feeling of dread: the idea that I'll never achieve today's dreams, will fade away quickly. I don't care how impossible they are, they're going to happen.
17 February 2007
Calls from Qatar
So, today started with a random phone call.
I picked up the phone, and through long delays, static, and a crackling voice was introduced to Robin. I figured it was housemate Robin calling on a cell phone.
No no, this was a different Robin. A Robin I hadn't talked to in 4-5 years.
Random.
She's living in Qatar now, and apparently remembered who I was, and phoned home, where she got the phone number for here. It was slightly awkward, since I was picturing this twelve year old girl in my head. I was thirteen while in cadets, and she was a year behind me.
She's moving back to St. John's next year for University. We're going to go for coffee, I think.
Random.
Can today get any stranger? I sure hope so.
I picked up the phone, and through long delays, static, and a crackling voice was introduced to Robin. I figured it was housemate Robin calling on a cell phone.
No no, this was a different Robin. A Robin I hadn't talked to in 4-5 years.
Random.
She's living in Qatar now, and apparently remembered who I was, and phoned home, where she got the phone number for here. It was slightly awkward, since I was picturing this twelve year old girl in my head. I was thirteen while in cadets, and she was a year behind me.
She's moving back to St. John's next year for University. We're going to go for coffee, I think.
Random.
Can today get any stranger? I sure hope so.
15 February 2007
Pretending to Believe
I hate stupid email forwards. Luckily enough I don't get them, since one these two conditions are met: I have no friends, or The friends I have aren't jerks.
However, a hybrid of the forward has been born and these things are appearing on YouTube now. Annoying as heck, until I got this one:
"PLEASE DON'T READ THIS. You will get kissed on the nearest possible Friday by the love of your life. Tomorrow will be the best day of your life. However, if you don't post this comment to at least 3 videos, you will die within 2 days. Copy and paste this to be saved."
That's some good news! The nearest possible Friday is tomorrow. And tomorrow is also supposed to be the best day of my life. Double whammy!
Now, the comment didn't say I had to post the comment to three videos in order for tomorrow to be the best day ever, but I decided that I don't really want to die either.
Another great side-effect. When somebody randomly kisses me tomorrow, I won't even have to bother with a relationship. I'll propose there on the spot, since the comment said they are the love of my life!
Despite all this good, now I'm one of those jerks I hated so much.
However, a hybrid of the forward has been born and these things are appearing on YouTube now. Annoying as heck, until I got this one:
"PLEASE DON'T READ THIS. You will get kissed on the nearest possible Friday by the love of your life. Tomorrow will be the best day of your life. However, if you don't post this comment to at least 3 videos, you will die within 2 days. Copy and paste this to be saved."
That's some good news! The nearest possible Friday is tomorrow. And tomorrow is also supposed to be the best day of my life. Double whammy!
Now, the comment didn't say I had to post the comment to three videos in order for tomorrow to be the best day ever, but I decided that I don't really want to die either.
Another great side-effect. When somebody randomly kisses me tomorrow, I won't even have to bother with a relationship. I'll propose there on the spot, since the comment said they are the love of my life!
Despite all this good, now I'm one of those jerks I hated so much.
13 February 2007
Plato's Justice
There I was, sitting in the University Center, doing some serious hardcore philosophy paper writing. I'm writing about Plato's definition of justice in the kallipolis (perfect city). It's pretty much in two parts, and I had just finished the first part. I'm going full speed ahead when ...
I slam face-first into a cognitive wall. You've heard of writer's block? Well this is mutant writer's block which also happens to be a terrorist with a nuclear bomb strapped to his chest.
I know that's not possible. But are you getting my point?
Aagh! This is why I've been starting papers a week early here! So I've got time for a day or two of writer's block-age. This has to be done for tomorrow.
Is there such thing as a brain plunger?
I slam face-first into a cognitive wall. You've heard of writer's block? Well this is mutant writer's block which also happens to be a terrorist with a nuclear bomb strapped to his chest.
I know that's not possible. But are you getting my point?
Aagh! This is why I've been starting papers a week early here! So I've got time for a day or two of writer's block-age. This has to be done for tomorrow.
Is there such thing as a brain plunger?
Samurai Mime
I love the internet.
I spent a half hour last night just looking up this guy's stuff on Youtube. He's German, so most of the words are in German, but it's okay. He's miming something, so there aren't too many words. In this skit they're pretty much all mock-Japanese anyways.
Hilarious. At least ... I thought so.
I spent a half hour last night just looking up this guy's stuff on Youtube. He's German, so most of the words are in German, but it's okay. He's miming something, so there aren't too many words. In this skit they're pretty much all mock-Japanese anyways.
Hilarious. At least ... I thought so.
11 February 2007
Insomnia
It's not incredible that I'm awake here at 1 am. I brought it on myself I guess, by staying up last night, and sleeping in today. I hate laying in bed, though, just waiting for sleep to steal me away. My mind wanders, and I think about doing rash things.
A lot of stupid emails have been sent between the hours of 2 and 4 am. Explaining things, and asking things that might not matter when the sun comes up. A few of them have felt good to get out, but in the morning I just feel like an idiot for typing all that I did in a sleep deprived state. The same thing for blog entries. Not like this one, but the "reveal-all, and explicitly tell you my problems, then promise to change" sort of blogs.
Actually, that's sort of what this is heading to. Between an insomniac stupor plus pathetic loneliness for friends gone on, regretful sadness for the passing of my grandmother, angry confusion for the separation of my parents, et cetera, et cetera, I'm wishing I could make the world right. Or at least my corner of it.
I wish everybody who had/is having a problem with me, would just tell me tomorrow. I wish somebody would tell me that they think I'm a pretty cool guy, and somebody else would tell me that I'm not as cool as they let me think. I wish people would just tell me something.
I wish feelings expressed on blogs didn't have to be veiled in ambiguity. I wish I would know what is directed to me, and what isn't, and what all those messages mean. When one talks of train-wrecks, or swimming pools, I wish I could know where I am in relation to the allusion: the conductor, a passenger, a victim, or completely outside. But then, I wish I didn't do the same on mine, that I didn't have to worry about things being taken the wrong way, or to be embarrassingly exposing to me.
I wish I could express myself in the way I want others to express to me. I wish people wouldn't wave me off when I start to tell them about my struggle. I wish I had less acquaintances who simply sit at the same table, and more friends who would hear me out, and honestly disagree or agree with something I say.
I wish some people would shut up, and others would speak up. I wish that quiet girl would tell me her thoughts, and that militant guy would stop telling me his.
I wish those conversations would come back. I wish they didn't have to disappear. I wish I didn't use up all of our subject matter, and I wish I hadn't made that awkward.
I wish I could tell people when I think something nice. I wish "I can't believe more guys aren't attracted to you," was something I could utter without being looked at strangely, and I wish the phrase "You're a pretty awesome guy" carried more weight.
I wish I could ask more questions, but I wish people would ask me questions, so I could give more answers too. I wish people would look at me in a similar way that I look at people I think are smart. And then, I wish farther interaction with those smart people didn't have to tarnish their image in my mind.
I wish I could conjure up more wishes. This whole thing is a little bit liberating, but it makes me sad at the same time. I'll try and rectify some of the wishes that should be realities this week.
And I wish this resolve didn't have to pass with the night.
A lot of stupid emails have been sent between the hours of 2 and 4 am. Explaining things, and asking things that might not matter when the sun comes up. A few of them have felt good to get out, but in the morning I just feel like an idiot for typing all that I did in a sleep deprived state. The same thing for blog entries. Not like this one, but the "reveal-all, and explicitly tell you my problems, then promise to change" sort of blogs.
Actually, that's sort of what this is heading to. Between an insomniac stupor plus pathetic loneliness for friends gone on, regretful sadness for the passing of my grandmother, angry confusion for the separation of my parents, et cetera, et cetera, I'm wishing I could make the world right. Or at least my corner of it.
I wish everybody who had/is having a problem with me, would just tell me tomorrow. I wish somebody would tell me that they think I'm a pretty cool guy, and somebody else would tell me that I'm not as cool as they let me think. I wish people would just tell me something.
I wish feelings expressed on blogs didn't have to be veiled in ambiguity. I wish I would know what is directed to me, and what isn't, and what all those messages mean. When one talks of train-wrecks, or swimming pools, I wish I could know where I am in relation to the allusion: the conductor, a passenger, a victim, or completely outside. But then, I wish I didn't do the same on mine, that I didn't have to worry about things being taken the wrong way, or to be embarrassingly exposing to me.
I wish I could express myself in the way I want others to express to me. I wish people wouldn't wave me off when I start to tell them about my struggle. I wish I had less acquaintances who simply sit at the same table, and more friends who would hear me out, and honestly disagree or agree with something I say.
I wish some people would shut up, and others would speak up. I wish that quiet girl would tell me her thoughts, and that militant guy would stop telling me his.
I wish those conversations would come back. I wish they didn't have to disappear. I wish I didn't use up all of our subject matter, and I wish I hadn't made that awkward.
I wish I could tell people when I think something nice. I wish "I can't believe more guys aren't attracted to you," was something I could utter without being looked at strangely, and I wish the phrase "You're a pretty awesome guy" carried more weight.
I wish I could ask more questions, but I wish people would ask me questions, so I could give more answers too. I wish people would look at me in a similar way that I look at people I think are smart. And then, I wish farther interaction with those smart people didn't have to tarnish their image in my mind.
I wish I could conjure up more wishes. This whole thing is a little bit liberating, but it makes me sad at the same time. I'll try and rectify some of the wishes that should be realities this week.
And I wish this resolve didn't have to pass with the night.
10 February 2007
I Have Little To Say
Right now I'm feeling like I should blog, but I don't have much to say right now.
I was going to post on my feelings on Nan's funeral yesterday, but I didn't. In short, I felt pretty dumb, pretty self conscious, and pretty embarrassed here and there between the preparations and the actual execution of the ceremony. Unfortunate, since these are feelings my Grandmother, I'm sure, never instilled in a single person. Ever.
Stemming from that, I've been going through a bit of an identity crisis here lately. I used to be technology-science-trivia guy. Now I'm feeling more like an artist. Problem is, I'm stuck in between. I've lost a militant interest in Physics, Technology, etc. But I also lack any artistic inclinations I once had. I decided today on my journey to haul out the sketchbook I've been dragging around for the past month, and actually put it to use.
The result, while fairly simple, is probably the best thing to come out of me in the past two plus years. I'll scan and post after.
Yep. That's how it is. I'm wanting to break in the sketchbook again. I never was an incredible artist, but there's something liberating. I wish I could afford paint. Then I bought a small hardcover book to unify all the literary thoughts that have been floating through my mind in the past months. Will anything useful come from either of these outlets? No. I can tell you that now.
But there's something therapeutic about sketching people on a bus.
Here's the scan:
I realize now how very simple the subject was. I stopped looking up once I got to the windows, so the angle is wrong, and it's not as true to what I was actually looking at. The grime on the windows didn't really come across in the sketch either. Maybe if I get a chance, I'll try a face in the next week.
I was going to post on my feelings on Nan's funeral yesterday, but I didn't. In short, I felt pretty dumb, pretty self conscious, and pretty embarrassed here and there between the preparations and the actual execution of the ceremony. Unfortunate, since these are feelings my Grandmother, I'm sure, never instilled in a single person. Ever.
Stemming from that, I've been going through a bit of an identity crisis here lately. I used to be technology-science-trivia guy. Now I'm feeling more like an artist. Problem is, I'm stuck in between. I've lost a militant interest in Physics, Technology, etc. But I also lack any artistic inclinations I once had. I decided today on my journey to haul out the sketchbook I've been dragging around for the past month, and actually put it to use.
The result, while fairly simple, is probably the best thing to come out of me in the past two plus years. I'll scan and post after.
Yep. That's how it is. I'm wanting to break in the sketchbook again. I never was an incredible artist, but there's something liberating. I wish I could afford paint. Then I bought a small hardcover book to unify all the literary thoughts that have been floating through my mind in the past months. Will anything useful come from either of these outlets? No. I can tell you that now.
But there's something therapeutic about sketching people on a bus.
Here's the scan:
I realize now how very simple the subject was. I stopped looking up once I got to the windows, so the angle is wrong, and it's not as true to what I was actually looking at. The grime on the windows didn't really come across in the sketch either. Maybe if I get a chance, I'll try a face in the next week.
"Best Sex Ever"
This looks like an interesting sermon series.
Here are two links to blog entries: one on the series, and the other on the reaction to the series.
Can I say that this is a good thing? I hope most would agree with me on that one. I heard and then re-quoted a statistic I heard once to my friend: "90% of boys see their first pornographic image between the ages of 8 and 16."
The response was something like "Well, that's a wide spread."
Still, sixteen year olds are younger than the required eighteen, and another statistic tells me that the average age for the first pornographic viewing is eleven years old.
With that knowledge, and the knowledge that playgrounds and locker rooms are terrible teachers, I can't believe anybody is condemning the sermon series there.
Here are two links to blog entries: one on the series, and the other on the reaction to the series.
Can I say that this is a good thing? I hope most would agree with me on that one. I heard and then re-quoted a statistic I heard once to my friend: "90% of boys see their first pornographic image between the ages of 8 and 16."
The response was something like "Well, that's a wide spread."
Still, sixteen year olds are younger than the required eighteen, and another statistic tells me that the average age for the first pornographic viewing is eleven years old.
With that knowledge, and the knowledge that playgrounds and locker rooms are terrible teachers, I can't believe anybody is condemning the sermon series there.
07 February 2007
Jericho
Finding this site might very well have been the worst thing that ever happened to me.
I watched up to the current episode of Battlestar Galactica, The Office, and now I've just started on Jericho, which Dave and Zack were telling me about today.
Basically, Jericho seems to be a rival corporation's answer to Lost. In the pilot, the residents in the small Kansas town of Jericho watch a mushroom cloud grow over Denver, Colorado. During the course of the episode there is confusion and anger, as we discover that it's not an isolated incident.
I'm at episode three, and I still have no idea what's going on. Then again, that's how it's supposed to be. There's just some draw about it though. It isn't the most amazing show I've ever seen, but it's incredible to watch these people as their entire world literally burns around them. Makes me think: "Hey, it's not so bad for me!"
Also, I don't think I put anything here when it happened, but my Grandmother finally passed away on Monday night. I tried four or five times to blog about it, but I couldn't put into words my feelings. Well, not into comprehensible ones, at least. Maybe in the next week or so I'll be able to, so ... yeah.
Finally, a quick message to whom it may concern, which could be more than I know: I apologize if I come across as cold while you show concern. I just don't want to let myself fall into the trap of relying on the wrong people the wrong amount again.
I watched up to the current episode of Battlestar Galactica, The Office, and now I've just started on Jericho, which Dave and Zack were telling me about today.
Basically, Jericho seems to be a rival corporation's answer to Lost. In the pilot, the residents in the small Kansas town of Jericho watch a mushroom cloud grow over Denver, Colorado. During the course of the episode there is confusion and anger, as we discover that it's not an isolated incident.
I'm at episode three, and I still have no idea what's going on. Then again, that's how it's supposed to be. There's just some draw about it though. It isn't the most amazing show I've ever seen, but it's incredible to watch these people as their entire world literally burns around them. Makes me think: "Hey, it's not so bad for me!"
Also, I don't think I put anything here when it happened, but my Grandmother finally passed away on Monday night. I tried four or five times to blog about it, but I couldn't put into words my feelings. Well, not into comprehensible ones, at least. Maybe in the next week or so I'll be able to, so ... yeah.
Finally, a quick message to whom it may concern, which could be more than I know: I apologize if I come across as cold while you show concern. I just don't want to let myself fall into the trap of relying on the wrong people the wrong amount again.
05 February 2007
Blogthings Agrees
Saw this on Meagan's blog. I hadn't been on Blogthings for a while, so why not?
| Your Scholastic Strength Is Deep Thinking |
 You aren't afraid to delve head first into a difficult subject, with mastery as your goal. You are talented at adapting, motivating others, managing resources, and analyzing risk. You should major in: Philosophy Music Theology Art History Foreign language |
02 February 2007
Thinking in Church
I found this quote on Peter's blog, where he says he found elsewhere.
"If you don’t pray in my school, I won’t think in your church."
Maybe it's because I'm all about thinking ... but when I first read this I thought it was a demand to pray in school. But reading it a second time made me realize that the speaker is offering a compromise. Sort of like "If you promise to stop praying in my school, I promise to mindlessly accept what your pastor is saying when I show up to your church."
"If you don’t pray in my school, I won’t think in your church."
Maybe it's because I'm all about thinking ... but when I first read this I thought it was a demand to pray in school. But reading it a second time made me realize that the speaker is offering a compromise. Sort of like "If you promise to stop praying in my school, I promise to mindlessly accept what your pastor is saying when I show up to your church."
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