The absurdity of the Christmas Story

The Sunday before Christmas, my pastor at my church gave a sermon on the "scandalous" story of God stepping into the human story through Jesus. It seemed to me that he was trying to cast the story, as is often is the case, as one of unbelievable risk and vulnerability on God's part. God becomes one of us through Jesus and experiences life through our eyes. It's pretty ridiculous when you think about it: an omniscient, omnipotent God humbling himself as a human being, subject to his environment and those around him. Subject to the frailty of the human body itself. But for some reason, I found the sermon unconvincing. A friend later asked me about it, and I could only honestly respond that it had not had much of an impact on me. I could understand the concept, but it was not really moving my heart and soul. And this frustrated me, because I wanted to be in awe of the Christmas story - of God stepping into human form, not as a glorified ruler, not in the glory He is due, but born to teenagers in the back room of a motel in some backwater town of the Roman Empire.

I was thinking through all of this a couple days later, and for some reason I recalled a quote from Dave Matthews of all people. It's at the beginning of the song "Oh" from the album Live at Radio City. He mentions the song is about his grandfather, who fought in WWII in Africa against Rommel, who was "no pushover." And then, right before beginning the opening chords, he almost inexplicably says, "There's evil people. But they still came weeping out of somebody's vagina." It's a hilarious moment, but I think there is a lot packed into what Dave is saying. Even powerful, history-changing people were born as a helpless infant to a woman, covered in baby goo, and completely reliant on others to provide for their survival. Each and every one of us has a humble start in this world.

And for some reason, this quote struck me because it finally captured for me the absurdity of the whole Christmas story. I started laughing out loud when it clicked. The Creator of everything came weeping out of somebody's vagina. And that, at least to me, represents the absurdity and the scandal of the Christmas story.

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Now playing: Dave Matthews & Tim Reynolds - Oh
via FoxyTunes

New musak

I've said it before, and I'll probably say it again. One of the things I've discovered in the past few years that I absolutely love is discovering new artists. It's such an awesome high having my mind blown by something I've never heard or seen before. Things I couldn't even imagine, and yet resonate so strongly with my very being.

The flavor for this month is Greg Laswell. There is something very unique about his sound, but I can't quite put my finger on it. His latest album, Three Flights from Alto Nido, has quickly risen to become one of my favorite albums. I think you will like it, and I think your future wife might really like it. We'll see.

Laswell has an EP of Covers, and on it is this absolutely amazing cover of Kate Bush's This Woman's Work. Not only does it sound beautiful, but the lyrics are gorgeous and moving. I'll leave you with my favorite lines:

I should be crying but I just can't let it show,
I should be hoping but I can't stop thinking

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Now playing: Greg Laswell - This Woman's Work
via FoxyTunes

Rocketman

I've been sick for the past several weeks. I'm pretty sure I had the swine flu (my doctor suspected so), and then a sinus infection hitched a ride on the back end. I was pretty sick for around 3 weeks, and while I'd been on a few runs and a ride or two, I had felt pretty slow and sluggish.

I've finally been feeling much better the last several days, so I decided to go for a run Monday evening. As soon as I was out the door, I realized that this run was going to be different. For the first time in a while, I felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. For the first several minutes, I actually almost felt like I was flying. I was running very hard - I think my heart rate was averaging around 180 - but it felt amazing because I hadn't been able to run like that for what felt like ages. My legs were just turning over so quickly and rhythmically, and my breathe, though hard, was well-paced and full. The sensation was almost one of having had someone strap small rockets to my shoes.

And the best part was I actually got a runners high during the run. I've written about these before. They come on unpredictably, and they usually leave me smiling and dancing around my living room for an hour or so post-run. It really is an intense high, but I don't know any strategy to bring them on - sometimes it just happens and you count your blessings. I've gone months without one.

The whole evening was quite an experience. If how I felt during that run is how cyclists and other endurance athletes feel when they take EPO, I can now understand the strong allure of taking it to get that feeling of weightlessness, like you are a superman. Once tasted, it must be a hard temptation to resist.

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Now playing: Greg Laswell - And Then You
via FoxyTunes

I am a...

And I think I know why. I realized today this may be the first real full-blown crush I've had since I was 22. I forgot how being around that person can turn your mind into jelly. Chicken-flavored jelly.

Yuck!

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Now playing: Herbie Hancock - Stitched Up (feat. John Mayer)
via FoxyTunes

The fan

I've had the fan that currently sits in my bedroom since my freshman year of college. It's a simple black stand up-fan that I got at Wal-Mart back in (gulp) 2000. It even still has the tacky orange sticker on it for college storage. When I first purchased it, it was for the purpose of keeping me cool on those early September days and nights when the lack of air-conditioning in the dorms was all too obvious. For the past few years, I've mostly used it to create white noise at night to drown out street noise, so it's run for most nights the past 5 years.

A couple months ago, it started having trouble getting started when I first turned it on. It would wind up slowly and build up to speed. More recently, it hasn't been able to start at all - I can hear the motor whining as it tries to get the blades moving. So what was my solution to this problem? Buy a new Wal-Mart fan? Maybe a fancy one with a remote control? Nope. I took the cage off the front of the fan and started to manually spin the fan, similar to the way pilots started those old WWII planes (like in the movies) by spinning the prop. The surprising thing was it actually worked! Now most nights I have to jump-start my fan; it's really just become part of the routine.

This is indicative of a wider idiosyncrasy of mine. I think it points to one of the reasons I'm such a terribly slow and indecisive shopper, and why I like nice things. As the fan illustrates, once I get something, I tend to stick with it till it's dead. Dead as a doornail. If I'm going to get something that I'm going to have and use for a long time, I want it to meet my needs and be high quality. I don't want to be stuck with something that doesn't quite live up to what I use it for and that is poorly made because the likelihood is that it's going to be around for a long while.

I'm debating whether to get a new fan. If I placed a bet on it, I'd wait till the thing won't start regardless of how hard I yank on it.

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Now playing: 505 Greg Laswell-Days Go On
via FoxyTunes

Holiday party!

My company holiday party is this Saturday evening, and I am super stoked. We always seem to throw an awesome party in a terrific venue - this year it is being held in the Franklin Institute in downtown Philadelphia. Here is a picture of what our dining area will look like. Check out Benjamin Franklin presiding over us.

I had hoped to take a date this year, but alas, things did not go as expected (which was expected, if that's not a contradiction). I even bothered to request a guest invitation this year. After all, this year will be my fifth holiday party. I've only had a date to one, and I was really sick so she went without me! (She was a former employee, so it's not as weird as it sounds; but she also used to like me, so maybe it is still kinda strange, or ironic, or something). Oh well, maybe next year. I'm still going to have a blast. Maybe it's better I don't have a date anyway. I have a feeling the evening will end with me, a little tipsy on a dance floor, trying to show everyone my Footloose moves.

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Now playing: Greg Laswell - Comes and Goes
via FoxyTunes

Number 28

I turn 28 in about 30 minutes. Well, technically I was born at 12:05 PM, but I guess we usually celebrate the date, not the time. I've realized that I'm a little disappointed I'm turning 28. But not in any really important way. Prepare yourself - I'm a bit sad to be turning 28 because 27 is such a cool number from a math perspective. I mean, it's a cube after all! Do you realize that I won't be a cube again until I turn 64?! And that will be my last one, unless they somehow figure out how to dramatically extend our lives. Farewell, 27. You've been an interesting year full of change. 2 more years till the big 3-0!

Eggo shortage

Apparently some flooding and equipment malfunctions at the Eggo plant has resulted in an Eggo shortage through the first half of next year. Terrifying, I know! Thankfully, I've been stocking up on Eggo waffles and storing them in my surplus Navy freezer over the past few years. Who's crazy now, huh!?

The gift of space

I read this passage in Surprised by Joy at my neighborhood bar, Ten Stone, tonight and thought it was pretty fantastic. Almost as fantastic as the blond brownie with vanilla ice cream I had there.

The truest and most horrible claim made for modern transport is that it "annihilates space." It does. It annihilates one of the most glorious gifts we have been given. It is a vile inflation which lowers the value of distance, so that a modern boy travels a hundred miles with less sense of liberation and pilgrimage and adventure than his grandfather got from traveling ten. Of course if a man hates space and wants it to be annihilated, that is another matter. Why not creep into his coffin at once? There is little enough space there.

Makes me want to sell my car and buy another bike. But then, I have "enough" bikes, and sometimes it's nice to shorten distances, especially to visit family and friends.

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Now playing: Coldplay - Amsterdam
via FoxyTunes

You might be a hopeless romantic if

I bought some new winter running gloves recently. A lot of different gloves these days come with plastic hooks so that you can keep your gloves together and prevent one of them from wandering off to that place your socks keeping making a break for. These gloves actually came with magnets sewn into small little pouches hanging off of the wrists, so there is no fumbling around to hook or unhook them. It works really well.

Tonight I threw the gloves into the wash, one at a time. When I pulled all my laundry out of the washer, I discovered that they were stuck together. And all I could think was, "awww, they found each other."

It's ridiculous, I know. Shhh.... Don't tell anyone.

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Now playing: John Mayer - Wheel
via FoxyTunes

Open-faced Eggo

I ate dinner tonight in front of the TV while watching Lie to Me. I'm not a big fan of most TV shows , but Lie to Me captures my interest every time. After the show was over, I started to clean up and noticed that my fork and knife looked like they had been untouched. They were gleaming clean and perfectly arranged on either side of my tray. For a few seconds, I was very confused. Had I, in some TV-induced trance, put my dirty silverware in the dishwasher and grabbed clean silverware after I had eaten? Then it occurred to me:

I didn't have any clean dinner plates, so I put my Eggo's on a salad plate. Problem was, the plate was too small, so each of the four waffles was precariously hanging over the edge. Eating them with a fork and knife would have been nearly impossible, and almost certainly would have ended in tragedy. Imagine a waffle covered in syrup and butter, upside down on my beautiful new rug. My solution? I ate them with my bare hands, like an open-faced sandwich. It worked really well, too. The secret is that you make sure not to pour the syrup over the edges so that the waffle holds all the buttery-sugary goodness, and it doesn't drip over the sides.

I think I'm starting to get the hang of this whole bachelor thing.

A date for the ages

A friend recently told me a great "date" story, which reminded me of this date I went on that I've been meaning to write down for some time:

I think it was around February 2008. She (we'll call her Hope) had never been to Philly before, so I thought it would be a fun date to surprise her by driving her there for an evening. I didn't tell her where we were going - just that we would leave late afternoon and wouldn't return until probably fairly late. In retrospect, since she didn't know me that well at the time, it's pretty amazing that she was willing to just get in my car and drive down the highway to who knows where. We got to Philly with no major issues, had a little trouble parking, and that's when the night really started to get interesting.

The first item on the agenda for the evening was to take her ice skating at the rink beneath the Benjamin Franklin bridge. Hope had mentioned she liked ice skating, but hadn't gone in a while because her friends and family hadn't wanted to go when she was home. I love ice skating (not that I'm any good), and I thought the prospect of taking a date to a rink outdoors, beneath a beautiful bridge would be awesome. We walked over to the rink, and it looked fantastic. The trouble was, apparently a school group had rented out the entire rink for the only time slot we could manage with our schedule, so we had to throw up our hands and walk back to my car. I was a little disappointed - it seemed like a great idea that had been spoiled by the unexpected.

This is where the fun really began. Believe it or not, I couldn't remember exactly where I had parked. (And if you know me well, this is not hard to believe at all). I think I was so excited about the date, it had not crossed my mind to memorize the street. We wandered around for quite some time, until it seemed like we were just walking in circles. Then I got the idea to grab a cab and have it drive us around the area - it seemed like a more efficient way to search for my car (plus it was cold, and Hope did not seem terribly comfortable hiking around in her shoes, even though she was playing it cool).

Once we got in the cab, we found my car literally only half a block away. How ridiculous!? I paid the cabbie, and then we crawled out and walked over to my car. As we neared my car I reached for my keys, only to realize that they were not there. I tried to play it cool, and wave down the cabbie, but he was already far down the street and didn't notice my motioning for him to stop. Apparently, I had taken the carabiner my keys were attached to off my belt loop before I paid, so I had put them down to grab my wallet. Then I just got out of the cab, taking for granted that my keys were securely hooked to my belt loop. But they were just loose at that point. Oops!

We discussed what to do on the street for a little while, and then decided to go to a bar down the street to get warm and come up with a plan. I was pretty frustrated, not only because I didn't have the keys to my car, but because we were supposed to be at a dinner with some friends soon, and I didn't want to miss that, but I also needed to get us home eventually (not to mention the first part of the evening had been somewhat of a disaster). We tried calling a few cab companies, but I was met with a half-hearted "good luck" by most of the phone receptionists. We couldn't even remember what color our cab had been. Who pays attention to that? And Philly is not like New York - there are lots of cab companies, and they each paint their cabs differently. We finally decided we thought it had maybe been yellow, but we kept second guessing ourselves since maybe we only thought the cab was yellow because we automatically visualize cabs as being yellow.

Eventually we decided to at least go to the dinner to salvage the evening. We could figure out how to get home later, or crash at my friend's place if absolutely necessary. To get to dinner, we had to catch a cab, so we decided we would at least try to catch a cab that vaguely reminded us of our first cab of the evening. We actually let a few available cabs go by, but then saw a yellow cab across the street. We waved at it, and even though it seemed like it wouldn't be able to make it across in such a short distance, it somehow precariously made it's way across several lanes to get to our side of the street. I opened the door and, remarkably, there were my car keys, laying there in the back seat! It seemed impossible. The cabbie had no idea the keys were even there. We were absolutely shocked. How on earth could we have hailed the exact same cab twice in the same evening? I gave the cabbie a tip just because, grabbed my keys, and then we just laughed and danced on the sidewalk for about ten minutes. It was quite the moment to share with someone.

The rest of the evening was fairly quiet- we had a nice dinner, with a great story to share, and then drove back home late in the night. And before things fell apart between Hope and me, we did manage a trip back to Philly to go ice skating. And it was terrific.

Must love long walks

It's become a cliche, a joke people make about dating classifieds or online dating profiles - "must love long walks." I used to think it was sort of silly myself. Long walks sounded overly romantic, or just plain corny. That is, until I discovered I really like them. My move to Philly has solidified my love for long walks, in part because it's so easy now - I can literally walk right out my front door.

I often go on walks late in the evening, maybe a couple hours before I go to bed. I like that time because the night gives a different perspective on the city, and often my walks can help me clear my mind or work something out. I'm frequently surprised how few other people I see walking through the city in the evening. Is everyone really just sitting at home, watching TV, or sitting in a bar, drinking? It's true that on the weekend I see many people walking about the city, but during the week, in the evening, so few people seem to be wandering about.

Maybe everyone else is going for walks earlier in the evening; maybe I'm a fool for walking through Killadelphia late in the evening. I'm not really sure, but I think I'll continue to enjoy my late night strolls around the neighborhood. If only I could trick someone into keeping me company...

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Now playing: John Mayer - Edge Of Desire
via FoxyTunes

The smile

As I was leaving the grocery store a couple weeks ago, I saw a sweet little old lady who was handing out coupons. As I walked by, my eyes met her eyes, and I gave her the slightest of smiles, a mere upward turn of the corner of my lips. I looked away for a half-second to see where I was going and then looked at her again, and I noticed she was starting to smile a little as well. Encouraged, I broadened my smile. I looked away a second time, and then looked towards her one final time before I passed, showing her a full on smile. As I broadened my smile, she smiled back at me with an expression so full of joy and kindness, I felt like I was walking on air.

I walked away with a big grin on my face, and I couldn't stop smiling afterward for quite some time. Even now, as I think of it, I can't help but smile. I hope my smile did for her what hers did for me. She absolutely made my week.

(This post has been revised to avoid further reader misinterpretation)

Au revoir, Dr. DS

Today I was deeply saddened to learn that Dr. DS had passed away early this morning. Dr. DS was a very special and loved man, who I'm sure will be missed by many. I know my family will sorely miss him, including me.

As my mom put it tonight, Dr. DS was one of my "biggest cheerleaders." I think he sincerely thought more of me than I ever thought of myself. I can still remember how impressed he was that I went to Amherst. While most people back home didn't have the slightest clue about Amherst, including those who thought I was going to community college in a nearby county, Dr. DS seemed to hold my accomplishment in attending and graduating from Amherst in the highest esteem. He would often observe something to others about my talents or intellect when I was home. This was coming from a man whom I was always humbled to be around - a man who had many accomplishments to his name, including a PhD, and the presidency of several colleges to boot. And that dear man always seemed mystified that I didn't have a young lady to bring home.

Dr. DS was a close friend of my grandfather, and thought very dearly of my mother. When I last saw him this past Christmas holiday, he took my mom and I out for lunch at the restaurant at which I used to work. At some point in the trip, I made some error in my manners regarding holding open the door for my mom. He chastised me, but later apologized, and said that he simply couldn't stand to see anyone mistreat her in any way. When I got back to Princeton, I wrote him a short note thanking him for taking us out to lunch and his movie recommendation (Doubt - as a theater man, his tastes for the stage and film were impeccable). He was so proud of my letter that he showed it off to my mom and then, as best I can understand, actually gave the letter to my grandparents.

Dr. DS, you will be missed. I am truly humbled to have had you believe in me, and I thank you. God rest your soul.

Procrastination and iTunes

Psychlist: You should take things slow and methodical.
Me: I totally agree with you. I'm really good at procrastinating, so this way I'm playing to my strength.
...And then I laughed, half at my silly wit, half at the fact that I was trying to legitimize being a goofball - see my September 28 post for more...

On a related note, I recently discovered that, according to iTunes, I Don't Trust Myself (with Loving You) is the most played song in my entire music collection. Psychoanalyze that!

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Now playing: John Mayer - I Don't Trust Myself (With Loving You)
via FoxyTunes

Hosting

To at least some of my readers, it's no surprise to hear that I grew up in a less than perfect home environment. I'm not going to dive into all the details in this forum (but I'd probably be willing to talk about it in person if you asked), but for the purpose of this post, I want to make the point that my family never had guests over to my house. From a pretty early stage in my childhood (circa mid-80s), we literally never had any guests: no dinner parties, no cocktail hours, nothing. There was one exception - my next door neighbor, with whom I was good friends during high school, would come into one room in the basement, through the basement door, to play video games with me occasionally.

For essentially my entire childhood, I never knew what it was like to host a party or really have friends over. This may sound odd, but just having people into my dorm room when I first started college was sort of a thrill - it was basically the first time I had really had anyone "over". On a side note, my grandparents lived pretty close to me, and they were more than happy to let me bring my friends over for dinner or games or what have you. God bless them! But it was still only an occasional event, and it still wasn't my place, my home.

When I moved to the Farm after college, I finally had a place where I could invite people over, and it was awesome. I had no idea what being a host entailed, or how to do it right, but it really was a thrill. I finally learned that it is incredibly gratifying to open up your home to others, to put their comfort and enjoyment as your primary goal. Needless to say, when my landlord pulled the plug on me having more than a few people over at a time (at no fault of my own), I was seriously disappointed.

All of this really hit me last night, when I had some church friends over to watch the Phillies game. I was filled with this sense of joy and fulfillment at seeing friends having fun in my home, watching my TV, and drinking my beer. I think I finally got what it is to host people - now I understand why people go out of their way to make others comfortable in their home. It reminds me of stories in the Bible when people would wash the feet of guests who had come to their home. There is this deep feeling of love and community in sharing the place you live with others and serving them before yourself.

None of this is to say that I'm a particularly good host, or that I did much more than grab a few beers for people last evening. But it suddenly clicked, and it only took me 27 years.

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Now playing: John Mayer - 3x5
via FoxyTunes

Emma

I finished re-reading Emma tonight. I rank it as my second favorite Jane Austen, next to Pride and Prejudice. It's really quite a shame that she did not live longer - I often find myself wishing there was another novel of hers to read and discover, but I must "settle" for reading her existing works again and again. I'll have to revisit the movie later this week to see how it stands up to a fresh reading of text.

Favorite line this time through:
"If you think me in a way to be happier than I deserve, I am quite of your opinion."

The call of TULIP

I've been having a semi-crisis of faith recently. My church has been doing a series on doubt, which has really gotten me thinking. I've found it on the whole to be quite interesting, honest, and thought provoking. But I feel like there are fairly good answers to most of the difficult questions that have been raised. What keeps me up at night is the question of freewill and predestination. See, I'm starting to think God is a Calvinist, and I am very uncomfortable with that idea. It makes grace so much more amazing, and yet makes God seem fickle and preferential. This would all be so much simpler if St. Paul hadn't gone a written Romans. I'm going to over-simplify this because it's late and I don't even know if I fully understand the problem. I simply don't understand how a loving God could knowingly create condemned people. Maybe I'll just have to talk myself into open theism, an idea that, 2 years ago, I would have told you I would never even seriously consider. We change in ways we can never predict.

By the way, for those of you not familiar with the TULIP acronym, it is often used to summarize the beliefs of five-point Calvinists.
Total Depravity
Unconditional Election
Limited Atonement
Irresistible Grace
Perseverance of the Saints

I'm not even going to try to cover all of my struggles with TULIP here, because on the one hand it's absurd (for instance, what is the point of the Great Commission if there is Irresistible Grace), and yet incredibly logical and Biblical.

Here's to someone digging up Jesus' Systematic Theology somewhere near Bethlehem. In the meantime, I'll just keep slogging it out, even though it's unclear if I'm gaining ground, or losing it.

One more fry

I love that feeling when you get fast food to go, finish all the fries in the little cardboard container, and then find a few precious more scattered about in the bottom of the bag. I always know there will be a couple more fries somewhere in that bag, but I still feel surprised and lucky when I find them.

And yet I know one day I won't find any little greasy potato wonders buried in my bag, and I will be overcome with disappointment.

Blogger complaint

I just realized that when I publish a post that was begun previous to the day published, the date shown is when the post was started, NOT when it was published. This is really annoying! Sometimes I write down ideas, but don't get around to fleshing them out until weeks later. I don't want my post to be lost in the past. Google, you rock, but this is just silly.

The transition has begun

When I moved to Philly, I had half jokingly, half seriously told my friends that I was going to introduce myself to people by my middle name, Heath. Up until the last week, I had pretty much chickened out whenever introducing myself to new people. But as I have become more involved in my new church, I have discovered that there are a lot of Pauls in this church, and everyone is confusing them with one another. This circumstance has provided me with the perfect excuse to ask people to call me Heath! I tried it tonight at my Small Group, and it has already begun to start catching on (except for the one girl who wants to call me Dan?). I'm pretty excited; I just hope I realize that when people say Heath, they are talking to (or about) me :-)

Bikes, coffee shops, and the perfect album

I love biking around the city, and I especially love being able to get around the city faster on my bike than by car. Admittedly, this requires running some red lights, sometimes hopping up curbs, and other slightly illegal things I swore I wouldn't do when I moved to Philly. But it's soooo gratifying to beat cars.

It is unbelievable to me that I can't find a coffee shop in Philly that stays open past 10PM. In a city this large, especially with this many students, you would think late night coffee shops would be all over the place. I mean, Princeton had a coffee shop that stayed open to midnight, and it was sleepy Princeton!

I have recently been giving Kings of Leon another shot, and I've come to realize this go round that Only by the Night is pretty close to a perfect album. I don't mean the perfect album, and I do get sick of Caleb Followill's squealing after a while. But there are some really great songs on this album, and it all fits together so nicely that if feels like a complete package. Not your typical modern record with a couple good songs and a lot of songs that still needed work. Sometimes you just have to give things a second chance.

I think too much

This was pretty funny, especially when I realized that guy is me.

http://xkcd.com/642/

Life lessons: Amazon edition

When you move, make sure to delete your old address from your Amazon account. Otherwise, when in the frenzy of compulsive online shopping, you may inadvertently have something sent to your former address.

This is particularly frustrating when you addictively check your order status and get really excited when you see that it has been delivered, only to be severely disappointed when you realize that it was delivered to a place you no longer live!

New excuse

Because people keep asking me, I've tried to come up with creative and yet more creative responses to the question: "why aren't you dating anyone?" Tonight, I think I came up with a really great answer.

"I'm allergic."

It's like my good friend who is allergic to some fruits so he can't eat them, or my friend who loves guacamole, but can't eat it because she is allergic to avocado. Just because you like a thing doesn't mean you can have it.

(Or maybe they are allergic?)

Breath of fresh air

At my new Small Group this evening, I overheard a (rather cute) young lady saying to another young lady something along the lines of, "...purposeful dating. The idea is that you should be intentional about dating. You don't just do it for fun or to hookup, but in the context of the search for a spouse."

Wow, I was starting to think I was one of the few single people who actually tried to approach dating in this way. I'm not really sure if she was advocating this approach, or simply stating that it is one way of looking at things, but it was refreshing to hear it expressed, nonetheless.

The awesome thing about dating someone with this perspective in my mind is that you know that person would be treating you with respect, love, and seriousness. They would not be dating you purely out of boredom or loneliness or just using you for a season. It means that, if they dated you, they would actually be considering you as a potential spouse. Things would either grow and develop into marriage, or as soon as it became apparent that you were not the one, they would break it. While it could still happen, there would be a concerted effort made on both sides not to use one another, keep one another around till something better comes along, or discard one another as soon as things get serious.

I guess if we were to put this in the golden rule framework, we might say:

"I'm not playing you, so please don't play me."

Note: I realize there is a whole lot underlying this that you may not agree with, such as that dating should always be intentional. I believe it should be, but you don't have to. At the very least, I think it is important that a couple be on the same page. If one person is dating intentionally and the other is just dabbling for fun or because they are lonely, there is bound to be heartbreak.

Never give up

Yesterday I went on my first group ride in several months. I felt good at first, despite the fast early pace. But after about 15 minutes, the cool air started to get to me, and before long I felt like I was breathing through a straw. Even on the downhills, as my heart rate would recover, I could barely catch my breath. I soon found myself dropped and wondering if I was in much worse shape than I had thought (despite my recent climb of the Manayunk . I putted along for a few miles and was considering just turning around, going home, and licking my wounds, when a group of about 10 came by and invited me to jump on the back. I tried my best, but I couldn't really hold on since I couldn't get any air. I was at my max just trying to keep them in sight, often losing 50 yards to them and then catching them at a lucky red light.

I zipped everything up as much as possible to try to warm up my throat and lungs, and very slowly my throat started to open. Finally, about an hour into the ride, I started to feel ok and was able to hang onto the wheels at the back of the group. And I continued to improve. Before much longer, I was feeling almost good. For the last 2o miles of the ride, I was pulling hard, breaking away, covering breaks, bridging gaps, and even led out the final sprint.

The whole experience was quite amazing. The evolution of my "sensations" over the course of the ride covered quite a spectrum, and I was very happy by the end that I had not given up and managed to actually impress myself as to my fitness level.

Interesting side note: this ride is supposedly featured in Bicycling Magazine every year as a top ten US group ride.

Love Math

Loneliness = Love -1

Loneliness + 1 - Love = 0

Loneliness + 1 = Love

Bike commuting in style

Today I biked to work, as I have been most mornings since I moved to Philly. I love not having to drive my car to work, although I must admit some days missing the ability to sing at the top of my lungs during my commute. Nevertheless, today was a bit different. Instead of my typical business (very) casual look of jeans and a polo, I was scheduled to do several in-person interviews with physicians, so I wore a sports jacket, wool dress pants, and my leather soled wingtips. However, I still wanted to bike to work (especially since I was running late). So I rolled up my dress pants half-way up my calf, folded my sports jacket into my laptop bag, threw my helmet on, and off I went. I think I was the most dressed up (and possibly most ridiculous looking) bike commuter in the whole city. To top it off, I discovered that trying to keep your feet on pedals (without clips) when wearing leather soled shoes is a lot more challenging than I had originally thought. But major disaster was averted, helmet hair mostly avoided, and sports jacket wrinkles largely escaped.

Microwave delight!

Tonight, for the first time in almost five years, I was able to successfully cook microwave popcorn. And it was delicious! The past 4 and a half years at the Farm I haven't been able to enjoy the taste of freshly popped popcorn, and it has been sorely missed. For some reason, that ancient microwave we had could not get it right. If you cooked it too short, nothing popped, but if you tried for longer, it all just burnt. Power level did not seem to make a bit of difference. I finally just gave up. But now, I finally have a microwave from this decade (maybe even just my lifetime), and finally once again, within a mere 90 seconds, I can have a bag of steaming popcorn. Mmmm...it's the simple things :-)

Stop worrying!

"So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."
~Matthew 6:34

This verse was the topic of a sermon I heard last weekend. It might be one of the verses I most need to absorb. Worrying about tomorrow really does very little good. This doesn't mean you shouldn't plan for the future, but being anxious about it is not productive, and can very often be destructive. If we are continually worried about what is to come, we miss what is now. And it's not like worrying about the future is going to fix anything. I guess it's one of those things I know, but don't believe. But I'm working on it.

For those who are interested in the more "religious" perspective on this verse, the minister also mentioned that being anxious about the future is actually more than simply counterproductive - it's actually a sin. I'm not sure I'd ever thought about it in quite this way before. His point was that, if we are worried about tomorrow, we are not trusting God. If we do trust God, we will no longer be concerned about the future, because we know that God has a plan for us. After all, we are not in control, and we certainly cannot control what will happen tomorrow. We can perhaps change course, but we cannot control the wind. And changing course is not some undefined action in the future anyway. It's an action in the present.

Seriously?

Sometimes, when people take what I am saying seriously, I have to bite my tongue to avoid laughing out loud. For once I'm not even being self-deprecating. It's really just that funny to me. I might talk a good game (really?), but I actually have no idea what I'm talking about. HOW IS IT NOT OBVIOUS?

Maybe no one has any idea what they are talking about. They don't call me out, either because they are afraid that I do know what I am talking aboutsince they don't know what I am talking about, or they don't call me out because they would appreciate the same favor down the road.

It would actually make for a pretty interesting game theory exercise. What if they said, "you don't know what you are talking about." I could simply reply, "you are only saying that because you don't know what you are talking about." They might shrug their shoulders in defeat. Either that or this line of discussion goes on for a long damn time. "You don't know what you are talking about!" "No, you don't have a frickin' clue what YOU are talking about."

Light my fire(fly)

I wrote this about a month ago, unsure if I wanted to publish it. I think I just needed to get it out there and off my chest tonight:

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It's one of those calm, slightly chilly Summer nights when I can't help but reminisce and wonder what is to come. Well, Mother Earth has played a part in nudging me on this evening.

I was driving home just at the edge of dusk. It's that time of day when you need your headlights to see the road ahead, but the night has not completely washed away the light of the day. I was driving past fields of long grass and corn, probably higher than my waist now, when I noticed that they were covered in a layer of flickering lights. It was breath taking - an almost endless blanket of fireflies extended across the fields. It was almost as if someone had taken the night sky and spread it like a shimmering veil just under my chin as far as the eye could see.

It reminded me of the night she came over to the Farm and first saw how beautiful the fireflies can be here. It can be like someone took the stars out of the night sky and threw them like pixie dust into the trees all around you. I remember her saying, "wow, you weren't exaggerating; there are so many, it's amazing." She did tend to overuse the word amazing, but this time I think it really was the right word.

I guess it was just about one year ago when she so suddenly decided to end it. I don't know if I've ever been caught so off guard.

From the whole experience I've come to realize that caprice may be one of the most hurtful things imaginable. It's one thing when someone decides after careful consideration that you aren't meant to be. In fact, even when someone goes out of their way to hurt you, they are showing they care in a sense. Yes, it's twisted, but they are hurting you because they are already hurting. But when someone decides in the spur of a moment (or "on a whim" in her words) to end it, you know how little you really matter. It's one of those things that hurts so bad, I can't even completely understand it. I can't imagine caring so little about someone to drop them from such a height so carelessly. And after it all, she followed it up by going out of her way to completely remove me from her life. I can almost hear her whispering in my ear, "I couldn't care less if you ceased to exist."

It has made me realize how much I care about so many people in my life. In particular, I care deeply about her and every girl I have had a relationship with. I would do just about anything for any one of you, and I think and pray about each of you more than you might think. And I would sit and talk with you through the night if you wanted or needed it, because once I start caring about someone, I can't stop. And I would never want to.

My bike fetish

Today, as I was wandering through Philly on the way home from work, I noticed that while I would occasionally look at a cute girl walking by, I would look at every single bike I passed. I guess I'm not much for objectifying women, but bikes are objects, so it's ok to objectify them!

Ladies, if you think it's creepy how I'm staring at your legs, fear not. I am trying to look around them to see whether or not the bike you are standing in front of is a fixie. You don't make a good window!

Teach me!

I've never really understood people who say"don't try to change me". I suppose that's not entirely true. Often these people don't want the person they are dating to try to make them into someone they are not. And to a degree, I agree with this idea. I wouldn't want someone to try to force me to enjoy brussel sprouts or watch Sex in the City.

But those aren't even good examples, because I would want someone to challenge me. Maybe there is some sauce that makes brussel sprouts taste amazing (unlikely!) or some angle to take on Sex in the City that makes it enjoyable, or at least an interesting commentary on the human condition (I remain skeptical). I wouldn't want someone to try to change who I fundamentally am, but I guess I would want someone to push me. I don't want to be completely responsible for defining myself - it sounds so self-absorbed and myopic.

In fact, I want someone to improve me! I've always like that saying that goes, "I love you the way you are, but I love you too much to let you stay that way." I fully subscribe to this way of thinking. There are so many different ways I can grow and become a better man. I want someone to see that potential and run with it. Someone simply accepting who I am seems rather drab - I hope they see more potential in me than just the me that is here and now.

I was recently listening to a radio show about relationships and dating, and they said one of the most important red flags about the person you are dating is an "unteachable and unrepentant" attitude. It really hit home, because I don't want to be that person. I want to be teachable, and I want to be repentant when I have screwed up. I accept that there is still a lot of work to be done on me. I don't want to be content in myself. I like to think there is a lot yet to come.



Unteachable and unrepentant

I love you the way you are, but love you too much to let you stay that way.

Housemates that make you go "huh?"

I have a new housemate, and while she is a pretty sweet girl, she does some things that make me scratch my head in bewilderment. Today, I came home to find that she had taken out the kitchen trash (yay!), but instead of putting a new trash bag into the can, she had taken a little grocery bag, stuffed some trash into it, and thrown it beside the trash can.

The trash sits next to the refrigerator, on top of which there are not one, but two different boxes full of trash bags. Directly above the trash can. All she had to do was reach up, but instead she walked around the refrigerator and took a grocery bag out of the drawer and then tried to stuff garbage and egg shells into an uncooperative and small bag.

This left me only one choice. I reached up, grabbed a trash bag, and set things right. And wondered...

The look of love

There is something amazing in the face of somebody talking over the phone with the person they are in love with. Their face just radiates hope and joy. Seeing such a face must tempt even the most cynical and self-absorbed to believe in love.

And I've, well I've seen a thousand things in one place
But I stopped my counting when I saw your face
Erasing memory, well I feel as though I've never seen a face before
Until I saw your eyes
And they're smiling back at me through my tears
I've been counting all these years, oh
Suddenly the thousand things I've seen were nothing more than dreams of
Of you and me

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Now playing: Jason Mraz - 1000 Things
via FoxyTunes

How much do I love cycling?

Enough that I would join Twitter just so I can read the tweets from the Astana boys.

Alone on the moon

I really can't stand limited release movies. They often seem to be more interesting than the mainstream big budget films, yet never seem to be released near me. Several weeks ago I read about a movie called "Moon" and have really wanted to see it, and I finally got the chance tonight.

It really is quite a good film, if you like "films" and not just action-packed "movies." It is a classic sci-fi, light on special effects and heavy on character interaction with technology and the unknown. They don't really make movies like this much these days. I haven't seen the new "Transformers" yet, but I'm sure I will have enjoyed "Moon" more, despite the $5 million budget that must seem like a drop in the bucket compared to the budget for "Transformers".

What really fascinated me about the whole thing was going to see a movie about a guy alone on the moon, alone. It's hard to explain, but I suppose it made me more empathetic to the guy and what must be overwhelming loneliness.

I also saw a trailer for an unexpected new film, based on the book "The Time Traveler's Wife." I really love that book, and from the moment I saw the trailer begin I realized what it was and was so overcome with emotion, I felt like I was about to start crying. Yup, a trailer made me almost start crying. And I'm sure the movie won't be nearly as good as the book, which probably wasn't that good of a book anyway, but man, it really got to me.

Fixing the bad boys

I've always wondered why girls are so often attracted to the bad boys. I've heard the explanations about how they want someone to fix with their love, but it never really rang true. But I recently read something that makes so much more sense.

"Interestingly, relationship experts say that one of the reasons a girl finds a bad boy appealing is that she can be with him without ever letting him get too close. Bad boys very rarely commit to a monogamous, long-term relationship. Perhaps [the girl] is attracted to guys she cannot really have, because they don't want a real relationship, and she has a secret fear of intimacy."

That's it, right there. Fear of intimacy! It has absolutely nothing to do with girls wanting to fix anyone - they are just scared to be in a real, intimate relationship, so they stick with someone they know they won't take them too seriously and in turn won't have to take too seriously.

Still, all this psychobabble doesn't really help me much. Based on my experience, I still think nice guys finish last.

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I would like to hold your hand
as we're shifted through this twisted abandon
I would like to think that you'd know your way

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Now playing: Jason Mraz - No Doubling Back
via FoxyTunes

A 4th to Remember

This was an amazing 4th of July weekend. The whole thing was a blast with awesome friends: Ferris wheel rides, funnel cake, fried Oreos, Firefly and sweet potato fries, West Side Story on Broadway (never thought I'd get that chance), Catchphrase to the heart's content, and to top it all off, sailing at night on the 4th, watching fireworks in 36o panorama, from little Keansburg, NJ, to the Macy's show in Manhattan. It was incredible, and now, every time I close my eyes, I imagine sailing quietly over the dark water, the moon lighting the way.

My two favorite quotes of the weekend paraphrased:

"You are a masculine guy, but sometimes you say things that make me wonder." (In response to an impassioned plea for the legitimization of Capri pants.)

"Silly girl. She had no idea how much fun was coming." Damn right.

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Now playing: Dave Matthews Band - Crush
via FoxyTunes

Music, all night long

Do you ever have nights when you are listening and listening to music and you just don't want it to end? I am having one of those nights. I am exhausted and should have gone to bed a long time ago. But all I want to do is listen to music endlessly. I think I might just lie on my back until I melt into the floor and the melody. Try it! As you relax your body and let your mind sink into the song, it's almost like an out of body experience.

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Now playing: Iron & Wine - God Made The Automobile
via FoxyTunes

NIN and I

I read an article today about Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails in which he mentions listening to Sufjan Stevens and Grizzly Bear. Who knew he and I had such similar music tastes? I'm still a little undecided about how much I like Grizzly Bear, but Stevens' Illinoise is one of the best albums I have ever heard.

if I was crying
in the van, with my friend
it was for freedom
from myself and from the land
I made a lot of mistakes

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Now playing: Sufjan Stevens - Chicago
via FoxyTunes

Confession

I have a confession to make. This is really hard, but...

I'm really starting to dig Taylor Swift. I think this sealed it.

Shhh....don't tell anyone ;-)

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Now playing: John Mayer - Your Body Is a Wonderland
via FoxyTunes

I want to be lucky

Every time we say goodbye
I wish we had one more kiss

I love this song - it's such a beautiful duet - but I guess I never really listened carefully to this verse with these lyrics until today. Wow! These simple words capture the whole thrill of love so well. Never wanting to say goodbye; wishing every kiss would linger on and on. I want that again. Bad.

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Now playing: Jason Mraz Feat. Colbie Caillat - Lucky
via FoxyTunes

Don't find yourself - define yourself

I don't really buy into the whole "finding myself" thing. It's not that I don't believe in self discovery, but people far too often use that phrase as an excuse for essentially treating people poorly, being selfish, or doing something stupid. I like the concept of "defining myself" much more than "finding myself." What I choose to do and how I choose to treat people is how I am defining myself. So in a sense, when I act self-centered on the grounds that I am finding myself, I am really just defining myself as being self-centered. Think about it - suddenly your choices matter again.

You are who you are, not who you pretend to be.

------

If all the things that you are saying love
Were true enough but still
What is all the worrying about
When you can work it out
When you can work it

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Now playing: Dave Matthews - Dodo
via FoxyTunes

The ridiculous

Today, while looking for apartments online and needing a break, I decided to put my income and savings into a mortgage calculator to see how much house I could afford. The calculator said I could afford a half-million dollar house. Then I checked another calculator. Same thing.

This is INSANE. No wonder we are in a financial crisis, driven in part by the housing market. Forget for a minute the fact that my income could not support a house anywhere near that expensive. There are other intangible factors we need to think about. For one, there should be some rule that if you eat cereal for dinner more than 2 times per week, they won't give you a loan for a bicycle, much less a house. Or the fact that I have a ton of apartments to look at tomorrow, so I should not be up writing on my blog.

If I were me, I wouldn't lend myself $50 bucks. Wait, I am me. What? Cogito, ergo sum. Actually, all you really need is sum. But that's for another day.

Humility sideways

Humility, I believe, is an important but very hard to achieve characteristic. Jesus said, "Blessed are the humble, for they shall inherit the earth." In my understanding, humility is not feeling sorry for oneself (which I am at times prone to do), but a realistic perception of oneself, especially relative to others. It is so hard for us to accomplish in part because we have to come to the realization that we are as likely to make mistakes and do wrong as others. I think all too often we have the following sentiment, which we confuse for humility: "well, I know I'm not the kindest person, but I would never do that to someone" or "I'm not the smartest person, but I know I wouldn't do something that stupid." Notice how in our thinking, we have actually made fairly strong absolutes in our mind, using words like "never" or "would not." We are in a sense a priori assuming we could never do something so wrong or silly, but then we try to fake humility by thinking that we aren't totally perfect (just not that imperfect).

But the reason I bring this up is because I find that - and I imagine many others do as well - when I am directly confronted with a misstep or wrong, I tend to be quite defensive or write off what is being said as inaccurate or a rare exception. I have found, as I did this evening, that I am often most reflective and open to humility when someone tells me about how another person has wronged or hurt them. For some reason, I find that I compare myself to the antagonist and realize that I have done similar things. It can at times seem as if someone is describing a reflection of a person, only to look in the mirror and see that person they are describing is you.

But then, maybe I'm just being unfair to myself and beating myself up. But then, maybe that's okay, because it helps to balance out the pedestal we too often put ourselves on.

It it is so cool to listen to a song you love but haven't heard in a long time. It's a small flame rekindled in the soul:
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Now playing: Dave Matthews & Tim Reynolds - Crush
via FoxyTunes

Deepness

Sometimes, when I am reading or thinking very intensely, I start to feel like it is all coming together. Like I can almost see the depth of life and existence. It's as if I am hiking down to the valley floor from a high mountain. It is dark and foggy, but up ahead, I think I see the fog breaking around a turn as the trail seems to level off. I become excited as I begin to believe I have reached my long sought destination. As I walk through the break in the fog around the turn, I find myself staring out over the edge of a precipice. Everything is suddenly vivid as the fog disappears. The valley floor is unimaginably far below me, the landscape enormous beyond compare, mountains endlessly towering above me. It is awesome in the truest sense of the word. I am filled with an overwhelming sense of awe. I am breathless at the vast expanse. The fog suddenly materializes, as quickly as it dissipated. I step back from the edge of the cliff and grab hold of a rock with all my strength. My heart overflows with wonder and fear. Our meager souls were not meant to bear or digest such scale. It was depth beyond comprehension.

The weaker sex

Today, our pastor said the following during his sermon:

"When the Bible says women are the weaker sex, it does not mean spiritually. There are some women in this room who are spiritual giants. What it means is that, guys, if you were in a cage fight with your wife, you would probably win. Big deal."

I'm still laughing...

Openness, Austen style

My previous entry reminded me of a quote I have been meaning to track down from Persuasion. When I read this line, it was as if Jane Austen had articulated something of which I only had a vague conception:

"She felt that she could so much more depend upon the sincerity of those who sometimes looked or said a careless or hasty thing, than of those whose presence of mind never varied, whose tongue never slipped."

In my poor attempt at paraphrasing: I trust people who are open, and in being so sometimes say or do things that are mildly offensive or ridiculous, more so than people who are closed and are a little too careful in what they say.

However, there is a limit to openness, I think best captured by C. S. Lewis in The Problem of Pain:

"The 'frankness' of people sunk below shame is a very cheap frankness."

There is then a boundary to openness, but I think the world would be a much better place if people were more open, not the reverse.

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Now playing: Dave Matthews Band Live - Shotgun
via FoxyTunes

Final words of wisdom

The next to last verse in Proverbs is as follows:

Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain,
But a woman who fears the LORD, she shall be praised.

I supposed this could have some interesting implications, but I haven't really thought it out completely. Just thought it was, as a friend used to say, something to marinate in.

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Now playing: Dave Matthews Band Live - Where are You Going
via FoxyTunes

The streak

Everyone knows that flaunting your own streak is bad luck, but I thought I'd tempt Fate just the same.

I've been road cycling for about 6 years now. I've put thousands of miles on my bikes, been stuck in thunderstorms, hit two cars at close to full speed, ridden off the road and flipped over a tree root, but I have never flatted on a ride. Not once. There have been close to a dozen times when I have grabbed my bike the day after a ride to find one of the tires flat, but I have never actually gotten a flat tire while I was on a ride. I've seen everyone else I know get a flat tire on a ride, and I even had to pick up one friend who got stranded in an early Spring rainstorm after double flatting. But not me.

Just today, I went to jump on my bike, only to discover that one of my tires was flat. I tried to pump air back into it, but the hole was so big that air was leaking out so quickly I couldn't even get the PSI to register on the gauge. Yet, on my last ride I didn't have the slightest problem with the tire. It's simply remarkable.

And I know my time is due.

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Now playing: Jason Mraz - Sleeping To Dream
via FoxyTunes

Play it like it isn't

I was reading an interesting article in Rolling Stone recently about Coldplay on their tour. And then I read the following:

"Martin used to pull the Dylan move of changing that song's melody — but then he got some simple advice from Michael Stipe: 'Stop doing that. People want to hear the songs the way they know them.'"

Michael Stipe, who is the lead singer of R.E.M., should be absolutely ashamed of himself. His comment is both absurd and appalling. Did Chris Martin really buy into this? I sincerely hope not.

I love listening to music. It alone might be a compelling argument for the existence of God. And what I really love is the experience of a live musical performance. My cup is overflowing when I leave just about any live show. I think one of the things that makes live music so awesome is that you are not just listening to a well-produced recording. You are listening to something that is a true original. It is so amazing when a musician pulls the unexpected out of the familiar, when they take a song you know so well and do something inspired and new to the melody or rhythm. This is one of the most thrilling aspects of a live performance. You think you know what the next note will be, but to your astonishment and delight something known becomes something amazingly new.

Honestly, I don't want to just hear the CD live. I want to experience the full possibilities of the musical geniuses on stage. Chris Martin, don't let the sellouts take away your musical soul. Please. Be original and spontaneous. Be a risk taker. Maybe all the phonies won't come to your concerts, but it will just make the rest of us want to come more.

By the way, don't believe the reviews. Prospekt's March, the sort of follow up B Sides to Viva La Vida, is excellent.

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Now playing: Coldplay - Prospekt's March
via FoxyTunes

Face to Face

It's been a long time since I threw a song up here that I've written. I've only "finished" a few, so I thought I'd write it down.

I am completely fascinated by the concept of love: two people being completely reliant on one another. We seem so preoccupied with self-reliance in this country. I guess it's the safer bet. But I think to really and completely fall in love, you have to be willing to be dependent on someone else. Too often I think people view love as a nice side bet or supplement to their happiness. But to really get it, you have to let go. To live in love, you have to die to yourself in a sense. One of the best analogies I can think of is this game I've played at low ropes courses. Basically, two people stand on wires about two feet apart from one another. They extend their arms above their heads and hold hands, forming a triangle. They slowly scoot out along the wires, which gradually grow farther and farther apart. To avoid falling to the ground, both of you must lean into each other more and more as the ropes grow apart. If you do not trust one another and equally spread your weight, you will fall. Both of you are vital to the other person staying upright. It is hard to do, but if done right, you can get incredibly far apart. So here it is...

Face to Face

Baby said don't let go, I'm going down
Baby said hold on tight, you're all I've got
I thought to myself, "you must be crazy
Don't you realize, you're saving me"

CHORUS:
Babies crying now
She is so scared
You need to know that
I'm not gonna fly away
Everything is spinning now
We are upside down
But we're face to face
I must be right side up

Look at it crashing down, all around
Darkness is moving in, I can't see anything
I reach out my hand and you grab on hard
It's our only hold on where we are

CHORUS

Remember that fight we had the other day
I was telling you, I'm always right
But the truth is I'm just hiding
I think I'm always wrong, ain't it strange

CHORUS

Little things

I think it is often the little things in life that make life amazing and rich. Finding the stuff of everyday life that makes my heart soar seems a lot more fulfilling than the alternative approach of surviving most days for a few incredible days every year. I want each day to fill me with wonder and amusement and depth. Not just a few vacation weeks and a couple adventures. Those are nice, too, but I want to live in the moment. With that said, I've decided to start recording some of the little things, whenever I feel the fancy. Some of them may seem mundane, and perhaps they are, or maybe you aren't looking hard enough at what is right in front of you.

So, for today...

Drinking 1% milk after almost exclusively living off of skim milk will blow your mind. Seriously! I'm talking head spinning deliciousness.

Discovering the repairs made to roads over the Winter on your first few Spring rides is a really pleasant surprise that makes those early season and sometimes frustrating rides (did I really lose this much fitness over the Winter months?) worth it. I'm thinking of Crusher Road, aptly named, which I discovered a couple weeks ago was repaved at an intersection that used to be filled with potholes so big that at best, would shake you to the bone and at worst, would throw you to the pavement. Or the harrowing bridge at the bottom of a steep local hill on whose metal grates you would often be deposited at close to 30 miles per hour (the sign recommended dismounting and walking across the bridge), which was recently paved over and now smoothly sends you on your way.

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Now playing: David Ford - Go To Hell
via FoxyTunes

Going golden

I was listening to NPR the other day as they were discussing this fad in Asia to be as white as possible. Apparently, in some Asian cultures, it is very cool to be very pale. It has gotten to the point (I guess it should be expected) that people are undergoing all kinds of crazy skin treatments and taking medications to make their skin whiter. I just don't understand...

I remember several years ago I read an article in Time or some other news magazine about how the human race, due to more interracial marriage made possible by modern transportation and migration, was headed towards a golden complexion. I've always thought that was pretty cool. How mankind, with all its crazy racial problems, would eventually end up a beautiful race of bronze.

Don't get me wrong, I also find all of the different skin tones of our species beautiful. What I really just don't understand is why people tan themselves to the point of absurdity, or drug themselves to look a little more pale.

Just be, y'all. Enjoy your unique shade.

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Now playing: John Mayer Trio - Something's Missing
via FoxyTunes

Slumdog love

Last week I finally caved and went to see Slumdog Millionaire. I admit, I went in almost determined not to like it, convinced that it would be cliche and contrived. In the end, it was a little contrived, but overall it really was a terrific movie. I'm not sure it really should have won best picture: I'm still shocked Doubt was not even nominated - an amazingly acted and incredibly deep film that refused to end on a Hollywoodesque, all is well ending. Still, Slumdog was a great film that I thoroughly enjoyed.

What most touched me about the film was how Jamal, the protagonist, reacts once he has won his millions. When he wins, and the confetti streams down over the stage as the crowd cheers wildly, there is a serene calmness over his face, as if to say, "this is nice and all, but I don't need it one bit." No, his mind is far away, wondering where the girl he loves is and how he can possibly find her. Most people, upon winning millions, would likely party like there is no tomorrow. There will be many more women, they would think, perhaps wisely. But Jamal does not throw himself a fantastic party, nor does he seem particulalry overwhelmed by his new wealth and status.

No, we instead next find Jamal sitting alone on a train platform, desperately hoping that the girl he loves will show her face. He could, probably should, just walk away and start a new life. But alas, he waits in vain for a girl. Maybe he is a love sick fool. Or maybe, just maybe, he has come to understand that things like money, career, power are not really what life is about. These are the silly things we chase after in order to try to find fulfillment, and I think sometimes to avoid opening our hearts. But they aren't the things that will fill our souls. Jamal gets it, and that's why he only goes on the show in the first place so that his love will see him on TV.

Maybe I'm just a hopeless romantic, but Jamal, I would sit all night at that train station, too.

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Now playing: Jason Mraz - Sleeping To Dream
via FoxyTunes

I am rich! (and so are you)

It is easy for many of us, including myself, to get caught up in complaining about what we don't have or what we wish was better about our life. And while I do fall into this rut more often than I would like to admit, I am trying very hard to have the proper perspective. Because you know what? I am unbelievably blessed (lucky if you like), and so are most of you (you meaning Americans, not just the meager readership of my blog).

Look, I know everything is not perfect: the one thing I want to fill my life more than anything else I do not have. But most everything else in my life is pretty frickin' good. I have a fairly secure job in a severe economic downturn. I am relatively successful at my job and make more money than I probably deserve (whatever "deserve" means). I am healthy, have a family that loves me, if imperfectly, and amazing friends. And the list could go on and on. And yes, not having in my life what I most want can make all my experiences a little bittersweet, but it is still very sweet.

Think about all of the people in the world who are desperately poor. In 2005, it was estimated that 1.4 billion people live in "extreme poverty" (living on less than $1.25 a day). That number was 430 million more than previously estimated. Take a moment to let that soak in. They underestimated the number of people in extreme poverty by almost one-and-a-half times the US population! Now some may argue your perceptions are relative to what you are used to. In other words, if you are used to $200,000 a year, $50,000 may seem like very little money. Therefore, people who live in third world countries (I think the PC term is underdeveloped) are content because they are doing fine relative to what they are used to. But consider that 2.6 billion people (roughly 40% of the world's population) do not even have access to a toilet. Having basic sanitation is about more than lifestyle or comfort - the lack of it can lead to all sorts of diseases and considerably raises child morbidity. Imagine not having access to clean drinking water, drinking from the same stream that people relieve themselves in.

Don't you see how truly blessed all of us really are? Your job may not be your dream job and may not pay as much as you would like, but if you take just a small step back, you will realize how good you have it. I'm not saying don't reach for that perfect job or that bigger paycheck. But dammit, stop complaining and put on a positive attitude, because the grass is green on this side, my friend. If you can't see this, your eyes are wide shut.

The fruit of love

Over the past few months, Jason Mraz has become one of my favorite musical artists. I love discovering new musicians, but Mraz is something special and has shot straight to the top of my list. I was introduced to him early last year by an amazing young lady who, unfortunately, seems to think quite the opposite of me. At the time I didn't realize how amazing he was, probably in part due to the fact that she introduced me to him on some pretty lousy sounding laptop speakers (how a professional musician can bear to listen to music on those tone-butchering speakers is quite beyond me).

One of my favorite songs by Jason (I really want to call him JM, but another excellent musician has aleady claimed those initials) is called Wordplay. The song is very clever - just trying to sing along with the song can be quite challening. In the second verse, he employs a pretty neat little trick I first learned about relative to the radio. See, good radio talk show hosts realize the power of silence. Sometimes, before they are about to say something important or that they want to make sure their audience hears, especially after a long monologue, they will pause. The pause might last 2-3 seconds or more, which seems like an eternity on the radio. But it is so powerful because, after the pause, the next thing they say stands out in contrast to the silence. If you are listening to the radio in the background, the sound after the pause will often suddenly catch your attention.

So in this song Wordplay, Jason sings "Gotta find another way to keep from goin' under /
Pull out the stops / [PAUSE] / Got your attention". What I really like about this is how he works in the dynamic of the pause into the lyrics themselves. He sings "stops" and then the music literally stops for an instant. After the pause, the next line is "got your attention." He is capturing your attention by stopping and then resuming, and in the very words he sings next he is pointing out he does in fact have your attention again. You probably need to listen to the song (around 1:30) to really appreciate it, but I think it's actually pretty clever.

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Now playing: Jason Mraz - Wordplay
via FoxyTunes   

If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.

Advantage, girls

Perhaps the experience I am about to describe is a little odd, so consider yourself forewarned.

See, on occasion, I find myself finishing my business at the urinal only to discover that I, in fact, need to now relieve myself , let's say, sitting down. How I did not realize this upon my entry into the restroom is unclear, but sometimes the sensation can be somewhat sudden. And when this occurs I myself in a bit of a quandary, especially when I am at work and others are in the room. For some reason I find it somewhat embarrassing to make my way directly from the urinal to a stall. I feel as if I am sending the signal that I do not know my own body (or worse). Would you trust someone's work who is uncertain of the what they are doing in bathroom?

And then I started thinking, what is really interesting to me about this is that girls do not suffer the same problem. Whenever they are going to the bathroom, they are always in a stall sitting down. They can switch it up without anyone noticing. Must be nice...

The meaning of life on a bathroom wall

On the wall of the bathroom at the restaurant I ate at tonight:

Money, Power, Respect. That is what you need to live the life.

Upon reading this, a strange and intense feeling flooded my mind, and all I could think was:

"No man, it's love. It's all about love. The rest of it, career, money, reputation. It doesn't mean anything. Maybe you will see once you have all of those things. You are chasing the wind. It's really just all about love."

Cheesy? Cliche? Hippie? I don't care. My soul was crying out.

The wasp

Finding a wasp pressed against your inner thigh inside the cycling shorts you are wearing. Incredibly lame.

Discovering that the wasp is already dead. Marvelous!

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Now playing: Yes - And You and I: Cordo of Life/Eclipse/The Preacher the Teacher/The Apoca
via FoxyTunes

Why am I listening to Yes? No idea; the music part of my brain just really wanted to hear it. That's the great thing about a fairly broad music collection.

The ambivalence in the chase

For Christmas my grandparents gave me the highly acclaimed Planet Earth series. It is truly astounding: they have coupled unparalleled cinematography with terrific music and expert narration. I could not more strongly recommend this series.

As I mentioned a couple months back, my new favorite word is ambivalent. It captures so well the complexities of life. Not the grey in between, but the powerful thoughts and emotions that can tear us in what are sometimes two completely different directions. I mention this because it has come to mind as I watch the Planet Earth episodes. I find myself torn as I watch the incredible chases for survival between predator and prey. I want so badly for the snow leopard to catch its prey because its very life may hang in the balance of successfully capturing food. And yet I also am deeply saddened at the sight of the prey falling victim to those powerful jaws - I want the prey to escape and continue its life. It's a very strange and almost frightening sensation, to feel such diverse and opposing desires. I feel quite invested when I watch this battle for survival unfold. It's really nothing, I know. But I sense that such strong and ambivalent feelings, if more directly experienced in one's life, could rip a person' s soul in two.

A Snowy Walk

The snow underfoot
Frozen and crunching loudly
Yet no one hears it

Man's best (morning) friend

I am not an early morning person. I really wish I were, but it takes me a little time to come out of the stupor and haze I find myself in immediately after waking up. Showers help, but it still takes me around an hour to become my normal perky and happy self. I actually enjoy the rest of the morning, once I finally find my whits.

But dogs, on the other hand, really love the early morning. And it's very refreshing. When I was visiting my uncle over Thanksgiving, I got to hang out with his 2 beautiful and affectionate yellow labs. They are two of the sweetest canines I have ever known. Every morning, when I would stumble downstairs in my early morning confusion (I was, quite contrary to normal vacation behavior, one of the, if not the first person to wake up every day), they would be the first to greet me. And it was always the most enthusiastic and friendliest greeting, as if I were an age-old companion they had not seen in many years. It was incredibly heart-warming, even in my half-awake and grumpy state, to be met with such unsolicited and energetic friendliness.

A couple times, when I took a nap in the afternoon, upon returning to the family area, they would actually start barking and jumping in glee that I had returned. It felt good to be missed so, after only an hour, even if it was just a couple of dumb labs. I love dogs, and one of these days, when I get my life sorted out, I am going to get one of my own!

Requiem for Daddy Bim's

One of my favorite things about going home (aside from seeing family) is the excellent food, both home-cooked and in local restaurants. Southern food is really quite amazing, and I think the girth of the Bible belt will attest to this. Daddy Bim's is at the top of my list of restaurants to visit when I am in my hometown. They serve incredible food at outrageously good prices and even grind fresh beans for each pot of coffee. The place may seem like a hole-in-the-wall barbecue joint, but it is for real, with a great chef to top it off. Among other stints, Daddy Bim went to the Culinary Institute of America, was the personal cook for Don Johnson (of Miami Vice), and was the executive chef at Mountain Lake Hotel, while they were filming "Dirty Dancing" there. (He also found time to direct my mom in a stage performance of "On Golden Pond" at the local community theater.) When I ate there just a few days ago, I stuffed myself to the brim with North Carolina style pulled pork barbecue, made from scratch spoonbread, spiced baked beans, sweet tea, and for dessert, homemade root beer (less sweet but full of flavor) and to-die-for chocolate bourbon chess pie. I ate so much I felt ill, but this was one of the few instances where behaving so gluttonously was worth it.

So why, then, is this a requiem? First, let me tell you about my eating-out experience a few nights prior. A few friends and I decided to catch up and grab a drink, which required going to on of the few establishments on our side of town that serves alcohol, the local Applebee's. I was a little hungry, so I ordered a basket of onion rings for the table. They weren't great, and I soon paid for my poor decision - my stomach was quite upset for the next 16 hours. I have a had a few questionable meals at Applebee's, and I think this was the final straw. I am swearing that particular chain restaurant off for good.

But the real tragedy here is that, at my visit to Daddy Bim's a few days ago, I found out they were permanently closing their doors in the next couple of days. In fact, at the writing of this, I think they have already shut their doors. I was pretty sad when I heard this news, but then my sadness turned to anger. I mean, seriously, what on earth!? How is a restaurant with incredible homemade food prepared by a legitimate chef closing down while a mile away, Applebee's seems to be doing just fine? You'd almost certainly pay more at Applebee's, too! And the service would be worse. Does Applebee's even have a real chef? I imagine most of the food is basically pre-prepared, frozen, and delivered by truck from the nearest Applebee's warehouse. And this is the kind of establishment consumers keep in business with their patronage over a Daddy Bim's? It's mind-boggling and heart-breaking! Aren't there enough over-priced chain restaurants out there? Why not patronize one local establishment with great food to keep it in business? Have we really done so much damage to our sense of taste with all of this processed food that we cannot appreciate natural, expertly made from scratch cuisine?

The economist in me is whispering supply and demand, but this, I feel, must be an exception. Sometimes consumers make poor decisions (like buying houses they can't afford - I hear that is going around). Now you have driven an excellent establishment out of business, but at least you have your Applebee's. Part of me wants to wish on all who eat there a curse of food poisoning similar to my fate. Alas, I am not that vindictive. Punishment enough will be that, when you have a craving for some delectable chocolate bourbon chess pie, you will have little luck in finding it.

R.I.P. Daddy Bim's

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Now playing: The Allman Brothers Band - Whipping Post
via FoxyTunes