Amazing woman.

[see comments for qualification]

Nothing is actually nothing.

V, S, and I took a two hour break from work (and I am still on that break) to watch a ridiculous film (it must be a cult classic) that was an amalgam of Power Rangers, Austin Powers and Glee. Afterwards, we had a conversation about what it means to talk about nothing with someone. V explained it well: talking about nothing with someone is not just making small talk. It's making small talk even though you've talked enough that you should have moved past it by now. Not having moved past it by now means that you'll (most likely) never be friends. Therefore, you talk about nothing.

--

Last week, DK told me that I've become 'weathered' over these years. What he meant is that my heart has hardened and shrunk in size, or so I would like to think, because it implies at least that my heart was once softer and bigger. Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn't. Last night I had a bad dream. I was screaming at someone and sobbing--the kind of sobbing that constricts your entire chest so that your lungs can't expand to breathe except in gasps. It was the gasping that woke me up. I wonder if everyone has these kinds of dreams, or is it just me, with all of my pent up anger and aggression and hurt feelings. Will I ever change? How long will it take? What does it take? Do I understand anything?

--

Two weeks ago, H was filming me for her mini-film project and we were outside of Scully by Poe field. A small squarish insect with brown armored wings crawled onto me during one of our breaks, and I flicked it off automatically. The bug ended up landing just to the left of me on the concrete where I was sitting. And because it was such a beautiful day outside and I was feeling amiable, I put my finger in front of where the bug was crawling and the little thing got on, oblivious to what had just transpired between us.

It was the shape of the bug, or maybe it was the monkish brown of its coloring, that caught my attention. It had two little eyes and some iridescent patches around the neck, but for the most part, it was an understated creature designed to blend in, rather than to stand out. On a tree, it would have been invisible. On my arm, it was a little dark patch, and I could feel the light tickling of its legs as it moved around on my skin--a forgiving and intimate act.

The rest of the story goes downhill. When it was time to part ways, I put my arm on the concrete, hoping that the bug would crawl off. When it didn't, I picked it up, as gently as I could, and set it down. The bug crawled a couple of steps, stopped, and then crawled another couple of steps but something was wrong. It was moving slightly sideways instead of forward. Looking closer, I realized that I had injured one of its legs on the left side and possibly one of its legs on the right side when I picked it up. I felt sad and guilty, sitting there watching the insect hobble around, thinking that it would probably die soon. I hoped its brain was simple enough that it was only hurting and not suffering. But that could just be wishful thinking. I put my finger in front of the bug again, just to see if it would climb on a second time. It didn't.

Japanese pop art and Chinese drama...

Funny--I watched a Chinese drama called 蜗居 with my parents over winter break. It tells the story of a young woman's affair with a married government official which starts after she borrows money from him so her sister can buy an apartment. The story weaves together several major themes: the exorbitant real-estate prices in major Chinese cities, the government corruption behind it all, as well as the moral decadence of modern day China. As a result of its relatively accurate portrayal of these subjects, the drama is now banned in the mainland.

One of the scenes in the drama shows the government official dropping RMB 800 for a little figurine that he gives to his soon-to-be 'girlfriend.' It turns out that the toy is a real life product of artist Yoshitomo Nara called the Little Wanderer. After you pull it back and release it, the Little Wanderer "slowly roams in a dreamlike state, searching for lost childhood dreams and someone to love." Nara came to campus last Thursday. I had no idea who he was and was not familiar with his work, though I did recognize some of the images he showed via projector. I just made the connection right now between Nara, the Little Wanderer, and the scene of the government official in the store. The connection is appropriate I think, because Nara's works often juxtapose the cuteness of children with their perversity and aggression--resulting in some highly disturbing pieces. Similarly, the drama in which Nara's toy appears explores the disquieting tension between 1) a woman's commitment to her family and a man's search for love/youth (=Wanderer) and 2) the destructive and dissolute means by which they both choose to pursue their ends.

Mick Boogie's remix of Adele's Make You Feel My Love is...amazing. I feel like I'm in middle school again. The sad thing about growing up is that I know myself enough to know this is not going to happen:

I could make you happy, make your dreams come true
Nothing that I wouldn’t do
Go to the ends of the earth for you
To make you feel my love

People's dreams are bigger than I can fulfill. And there are days when I'm not going anywhere for you, let alone the ends of the earth. And vice versa. I'd like to be proven wrong, though (at least on the second point). I really do.

Stories of

marriage...

I am somewhat better with words than my wife is; she is infinitely better with people. In different ways, we translate each other to the rest of the world, and admire each other’s contrasting language skills. Being married to someone you respect for being somehow better than you keeps affection alive. That this impressive person chooses you year after year makes you more pleased with yourself, fueling the kind of mutual self-esteem that can get you through decades.


and divorce...

Afterward, they went downstairs, and Kate finally gave Max her keys to what was now his apartment -- something she had held on to throughout the sessions -- and Max cried. He says he thought Kate teared up, too. But a few weeks later, she needed to pick up something in the apartment, and she told Max she would let herself in while he was gone. He was stung to realize she didn't recall having given him her keys: that relinquishing their life had finally become for her an automatic gesture.

Rock Of Ages (When The Day Seems Long)

1. Rock of Ages, when the day seems long
From this labor and this heartache, I have come
The skies will wear out, but you remain the same
Rock of Ages, I praise your name

2. Rock of Ages, you have brought me near
You have poured out your life-blood, your love, your tears
To make this stone heart come alive again
Rock of Ages, forgive my sin.

Chorus: Rock of ages. Rock of ages.
Bind your children until the kingdom comes.
Rock of ages your will be done

3. Rock of Ages, when in want or rest,
My desperate need for such a Savior I confess
Pull these idols out from my heart embrace.
Rock of Ages, I need your grace.

4. Rock of Ages, broken scorned for me.
Who am I that you would die to make me free?
To give me glory, (you) took the death and pain.
Rock of Ages, my Offering.

Repeat Chorus

5. Rock of Ages, "It is done!" you cried.
The curtain's torn and I see justice satisfied
Now write your mercy, on my heart and hands.
Rock of ages, in faith I stand.

6. Rock of Ages, my great hope secure.
Your promise holds just like an anchor to my soul
Bind your children with cords of love and grace.
Rock of Ages, we give you praise.

----

Out of all the nations in the world, perhaps Haiti understands best what it cost God to buy the salvation of his people.

A disclaimer: I started out writing on this blog anonymously. In many ways, it is no longer anonymous although I still refrain from using my name or the names of any people I mention. I blog, often because I want to vent. I blog, often because there's no one nearby to talk to.

For many people, blogging is a way to be a part of a community. It's a way to encourage, edify, educate, inform. I thought a while ago about the purpose of my blog, and whether or not I should refrain from posting things that may be discouraging or depressing. I've decided to keep my blog what it originally was--an anonymous channel to verbalize my feelings of the moment, to give them some space to move outward and float around in the digital air. I have not thoroughly thought through most the things I post, and I don't write everything in complete seriousness. The exceptions are things written by other people that I quote.

Apart from that, best to think of this blog as me talking to myself.

BBC produced a 6 hour long version of Jane Austen's Emma which I just finished watching on PBS online. The last time I watched a 6 hour film was a few years ago when my mom and I stayed up late to finish Pride and Prejudice. I read most of the Austen novels in middle school and don't remember much of the stories except that they made me wistful and starry-eyed (and yes, the stories were all I cared about--not the language, or the social commentary, or the keen humor). The films have pretty much the same effect--just now, I went back to the part where Mr. Knightley finally confesses his love to Emma and watched the happy ending for a second time.

N reminded me a few days ago that Valentine's Day is coming up, and sent me something to read to "fight the onslaught of cynicism sure to come next weekend." It's probably true that I am more cynical than I used to be. But I'm not cynical about love. Love is great; God is love; God is everlasting; love will triumph. I'm just doubtful of my own ability to love anyone and anyone's ability to love me in a romantic context for longer than a few years at most. There are a lot of people in the world who are alone for this reason, or in marriages that are worse than being alone. This is simply a fact, like it is a fact that Jane Austen's books end at the wedding/honeymoon.

In short, I'm not going to spit on Valentine's Day or denounce love with bitter vile in my heart. I'm not going to emit angry hissing noises if couples in love cross my path. I'm just getting ready for my day of personal repentance and mourning--not very inappropriate on any day.

I miss being able to have conversations with my teddy bear. I don't mean that I miss the conversations. I mean I miss the ability to converse, in that way, to essentially nobody.

The problem with having a teddy bear friend, however, was that I would often dream of him coming to life. And inevitably, in every one of those dreams, there would come a point when I realized the immensity of what had happened, and I would be overjoyed that my dreams about my teddy bear had come true. The height of that joy juxtaposed with the experience of waking up was terribly disappointing. But for a few years, at least I kept talking to my teddy bear and having dreams that my dreams had come true, an ironic situation but satisfying for as long as the dreams lasted. It's probably a good thing that most people no longer have enough imagination to converse with their teddy bears or their imaginary friends. People might lose the incentive to make real friends, or to try.

But imagination--it's a way to cope. It's a way of losing your mind without losing your mind. It can be useful sometimes.

Movies, like all other escapes, are so frustratingly futile. Your problems go away for 2 hours, and then they come back. No wonder people watch movies and TV for hours--the longer you watch, the longer your escape. But you can only escape for so long before you're in exile and then you have even more problems you want to forget.

Time...does time heal or does time turn things gangrenous? I guess it depends on the condition of the injuries, and the doctor you went to see.

Andrew Bird

I'm listening to Armchair Apocrypha right now. As with most of the other music I listen to, I don't really listen too much to the words, which is not the best practice, I know. Sometimes, it's because the singers slur what they say. Sometimes, it's because the lyrics don't make much conscious sense. In either case, the action of looking up the lyrics and trying to analyze/understand them takes away from the immediate experience of just listening to the music. Sure, music often comes with a message that is integral to what the music is, but the music can be a message in and of itself. To me, Andrew Bird's music is a message of strange possibilities, unexpected complexities, muted exhilaration. Listening to it makes me feel odd, but happy.

I just bought *N Sync, their self-titled album. It's been too long. I want them back.

From the pastor

This past year has gone by with a blink of an eye and it's hard to believe we've entered a new decade. As I read through many articles that try to summarize the past decade, I have seen this phrase more than once: "the decade from hell". Without doubt this past decade has brought unexpected calamity, destruction and disaster from Y2K to 9/11 to ponzi schemes and financial meltdown. The list goes depressingly long... Yet, I say "unexpected" with much hesitation.

Every year I ask the seniors in small group, "What should we expect from life? Is life relative hardship with sprinkles of ease or relative ease with sprinkles of hardship?" Most years the answer is about 50/50 and many are surprised to find out that the Scriptures paint a picture that life is hard and difficult because our world is broken and fallen. Yet, we often forget this fundamental Biblical truth, and we live under the delusion that life ought to be what we think and feel it should be. Sadly, this is not the case, and yet there is good news in the midst of what is sounding like a depressing start of a new decade.

Paul writes in 2 Corinthians:

We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. ¹¹ For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may be revealed in our mortal body. ¹² So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you.

I need to hear these words often because it reminds me that death and pain are no longer a meaningless end to themselves. Rather, because of Christ, His death is the death of death (to rephrase Owen). This truth has resounding important implications which Paul understood well. Paul chose to enter into suffering so that through his suffering the life giving power of Christ would be made more tangibly evident to those around him. Paul, more than most understood how fallen this world is including himself. Yet, instead of wallowing in this brokenness, Paul saw the blinding light and concluded that he will suffer one way or the other--meaninglessly or for the sake of Christ. Because of Christ, Paul can now suffer in a way that brings overflowing blessings--so much that he says, "death is at work in us, but life is at work in you!". Paul toiled and labored hard for others. He did not live a life centered around himself, but gave himself up in a way that liberated himself and those around him.

Despite the promises of technology and business, the next decade will be filled with even more "unexpected" trauma. our self-centeredness and its effects in the world will not evaporate away. We pray against these things but when we see the evidence of our sins around us let us be resolved as followers of Christ, not to be crushed by them but to enter into the pain of this world so that we too can experience how suffering produces hope. We too have a choice. We can either have suffering come upon us unwillingly or we can courageously enter into the suffering of the world knowing in love and faith. Only in Christ do we have the power and vision to joyfully do the latter.

As we start this year, I hope this reflection will help us to think twice about the choices we make. What choices lie before you and how will the truth of the gospel--the death, resurrection and glory of Christ impact the way you see yourself, your call, and the Kingdom that is coming.

To that end, let me close this rather long email with some resources to help you stay close to Christ this year.

1) Bible Reading schedules. I can't get enough of these. This year I want to highlight three different reading schedules from NavPress.

a) Read through the whole Bible in a year.
b) Read through the New Testament in a year. (For those who realistically only have about 5 minutes a day).
c) Read through the Bible book by book in a year.

2) Jonathan Edwards' Resolutions. Another annual ritual that makes me realize how far I have to go and where to fix my eyes to get there. Click here to read them.

3) Resolutions. Sit down and make 5 resolutions that will strengthen your walk with Christ. Faith without works is dead.

From ZM

"'O little child of Bethlehem,
descend to us we pray,
cast out our sin and enter in,
be born in us today.'

In these few lines we see articulated the perpetual rebirth of Jesus in the new Christian's heart. Mary was, in fact, the first Christian. She opened her womb to the Messiah, accepting, quite literally, the Christ. Interestingly, she does not accept this weight with a mere 'yes'. Rather, she says, "Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word." Her acceptance is in the form of a declaration that she is and will be a servant of the Living God. One might argue that the acceptance of Christ is much more complicated than a simple agreement to live as the servant of God, but I'm not convinced that it is anything more than that. Of course, there is the forgiveness of sins going on somewhere in the background, but, in essence, Jesus' gospel is a call to enter into the Kingdom of God as a servant, to have the will of God played out in one's life and to bring about the will of God in the lives of others. Thus, Mary's acceptance of the Messiah is a physical symbol of the spiritual event that takes place in a new Christian. Christ is born in the heart of a man or woman and then matures and grows in him or her till He bursts forth from them as light, love, and truth. Christ's birth and growing in a Christian is not parasitical, being a kind of possession or take-over, but rather synergistic, uniting God and man mysteriously resulting in the new, complete Man. Christ's explosion out of a person is seen in the self-actualization of the person and his or her highest expression of innate self for the benefit of others and the glory of God. Mary is the physical symbol for this event, but, in being so, she is also more. In the same way the story of those who have experienced this ultimate spiritual event serves as testimony and a call to others, so does Mary stand as a physical testimony and a call to all men and woman—will you too 'prepare Him room' in your heart and accept the call to enter into the Kingdom of God as a servant"

A friend who last year was unsure how he felt about God and the Bible sent out this poem last night:

I had thought he wanted me to be 'good'
Perhaps, then, he'd accept me, embrace me, call me his own.
But then he showed me - ever lovingly, ever truthfully, ever surely
The price was already paid!
He only wanted me to accept him, to embrace him, to worship lovingly
and then goodness itself would flow from my heart
just as it flows, freely and without ceasing, from Him.
Peace and Salvation know no other way.

Reading his poem made me think about how even our faith at its nadir and our resulting deepest despair are not greater than the love of God which works to save us. Hebrews 6:4-6 is frightening, and I've wondered this semester if I am in the process of 'falling away,' obsessed and possessed as I've been. Then one night, I was sitting in the car feeling dejected that I have still, after eight years, failed to grasp the bare fundamentals when the thought occurred to me that in the end, what made all the difference was the fact that (wait for it...) Harry Potter chose Gryffindor.

So I was there in the car feeling like Harry Potter and told God the Sorting Hat, 'but I choose you, even if I feel mixed up in every other way possible.' As a wise woman once said, sometimes all we Christians can muster of faith is not even wanting God, but wanting to want. Which is where I've been most of this semester. So it is utterly to His glory and credit if any fruit at all is born from that mustard seed.

The other thought I had was that I could never in my right mind turn my back on God because He has simply done too much for me. Every time I look at my family or think about the fact that I am alive or consider the lives of some of my friends, it is like seeing a sign in the sky all over again. Whether I am in my right mind or can see at all are what I need God for. In our world, this is the best of all possible circles.

"When I was a child my parents loved me not because I was good but because I was Madeleine, their child. I loved them, and I wanted to please them, but their love for me did not have to be earned. Neither does the love of God. We are loved because we are his children, because we are."

It is true that we do not have to earn the love of God. But we do have to earn nearly every other bit of love we will ever experience in this world, and those who are less gifted or less diligent in being lovable will simply be loved less or not at all. Consequently, all human analogies for God's love break down in the end. This is a bummer, part of the "ground note of cosmic disappointment" that runs through all of life. For this reason, the gospel is compelling. But if in fact the gospel has been conflated with its benefits--with comfort, or community, or a sense of importance and purpose--then who is to say whether we have believed in the gospel at all? What if we were to become like Christ, rejected, disrespected, and alone? What if we were to become like Job, tormented, useless, and utterly confused? What if we were to become invisible? Would we, who have once enjoyed the benefits of Christianity, believe the Good News in that kind of desolation and fatigue?

--

Today, I and other (current and former) members of my church's youth group went to the Rescue Mission to help serve dinner to the homeless guests. On our way back, the youth pastor asked everyone to reflect on something they had learned and my friend asked everyone in our car to articulate those reflections. My mind went blank because I didn't learn anything so I said something last minute about people's partiality, but maybe this is a better distillation of what I was thinking.

old stuff

i was cleaning my room this weekend--throwing out dead pens, wiping dust into little movable hills, recycling mail from the schools i didn't go to (i.e. the lives i could have led)--and i stumbled on a couple of things.

• gold colored earrings with plastic rubies (given to me before I had piercings and which I'm wearing now because my piercings are starting to close).
• a christmas letter from j.c. attached to a christmas music cd and bible study software.
• a purple easter egg completely filled with bone colored shell and stone fragments.
• three cassette tapes of 90s music i recorded from KIIS FM b/c i couldn't afford the albums (lately, i've been watching you, been thinking bout you baby, and everything you do...etc.)
• an edition of the church publication in which n.w., s.l., e.y., and i had written articles.
• a cd that r.t. gave me of p.c. and her singing together (to which i fell asleep one night when i was in the hospital).
• relay for life 24 hour sign up sheets.

though i hardly gave any of them more than a minute's thought, these things made me remember the past. they are also the kinds of things i will probably have fewer of as i get older, since i throw away more now, taking into consideration the fact i will probably be nomadic for quite some time and each move will be more cumbersome the more i collect and re-collect. i almost threw the tapes away so i wouldn't have to waste time listening to check what was on them before discarding them. awful, isn't it? not so much the loss of awareness of what's valuable, but the active allowing of that loss to occur--self-inflicted alzheimer's. because deep down in my very small heart, i knew that if i stopped to listen to those tapes, i would end up having to think about all the space/time issues of my life that are either counterfactuals or have no resolution.

pathology

two things:
soft hurt--it's bad that it feels good.
the voices--who's to say they're just in your head; who's to say they're not the demons talking.

---

in abnormal psychology, we learned about sexual disorders recently, one of which is exhibitionism, where the sufferer (generally male) exposes his genitals in public to shock women. we've had a couple of cases earlier this year where an exhibitionist (i'd hate to think there was more than one) repeatedly exposed himself to various students on campus at late hours of night. according to my prof, exhibitionists are immature, have no or very poor social relationships, and no sex life. no excuses for immoral behavior, but it's a sad world, mad world where such lonely, disconnected people exist. they're unwanted in every respect.

other incidents on campus: people getting mugged and beaten. i now carry mace.

Everyone has seen these ads on facebook, but I actually stopped to look at one of them today, and thought: what if you're the average looking, average achieving child of parents who hired half your DNA from an NCAA Ivy League super model so you could be drop dead perfect.

"Creating happy families." Seriously?

"Modeling Hitler" seems more like it.

I've spent more hours shopping online this week than I care to admit. So much for doing my homework and researching my thesis. It's too early to be thinking about certain things, I tell myself. Too early to be feeling unprepared for the real world, too early to be buying things that'll make me look less shabby. Living in the future--it's self defeating. But I do it anyway.