Clever Words on Pages Turn to Fragments

On Oratory

2009-09-05T09:06:00.000-07:00

I hear a lot of people talk about what a great orator President Obama is. Regardless of how little I agree with his ideology, I do agree that he's a pretty good speaker. However, when I reflect upon the fact that he has an army of speechwriters and an arsenal of teleprompters, a little bit of the Barackian luster is lost.

I have been reading a book by Paul Johnson on American history. The revolutionary Patrick Henry is well known for his exclamation, "Give me liberty or give me death!", but I never knew the context of this little phrase. Use your imagination to picture this gem of theatrics:

"He proposed to the burgesses that Virginia should raise a militia and be ready to do battle. What was Virginia waiting for? Massachusetts was fighting. 'Our brethren are already in the field. Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have?'

Then Henry got to his knees, in the posture of a manacled slave, intoning in a low and rising voice: 'Is life so dear, our peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God!'

He then bent to the earth with his hands still crossed, for a few seconds, and suddenly sprang to his feet, shouting, 'GIVE ME LIBERTY!' and flung wide his arms, paused, lowered his arms, clenched his right hand as if holding a dagger at his breast, and said in sepulchral tones: 'Or give me death!'

He then beat his breast, with his hand holding the imaginary dagger. There was silence, broken by a man listening at the open window, who shouted: 'Let me be buried on this spot!' Henry had made his point."

Teleprompters make for interesting speeches, I guess, but not nearly as interesting as pretending to stab yourself.

Samwise Gamgee on Pain and Suffering

2009-08-10T20:52:00.001-07:00

Marijke and I have been working our way through the Lord of the Rings films. Last week we finished The Two Towers and Sam's final speech made me tear up a little bit (Movies hardly EVER make me get teary-eyed):

Frodo: I can’t do this, Sam.

Sam: I know. It’s all wrong. By rights we shouldn’t even be here. But we are. It’s like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened.

But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer.

Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something. Even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn’t. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something.

Thoughts on Alleviating Poverty

2009-08-10T16:18:00.001-07:00

I came across an acquaintance's post on facebook today that was a kind of protest against the supposed labor practices of a department store coming to SLO. It was a rant long on emotion and good intentions, but very short on economic understanding. One of the poster's points was something like, "Now we all know that our free market is horrible..." I kind of sighed because lately I've been really interested in helping people (Christians, especially) understand the nature of wealth and poverty, helping them to go beyond impassioned, well-sounding diatribes uncritically learned from Marxist professors or authors.

I wanted to tell this person, "Do you realize that the free market has done far more to take people out of poverty than any kind of top-down social policy or 'program'?". The solution to poverty, by it's very definition, is....WEALTH! The world has never seen a more effective system at producing wealth (aka reducing poverty) than free-market capitalism, even with its flaws. Economics is not something mysterious and fuzzy - it is rooted in empirical data and the historical record. People have tried just about everything when it comes to making economies work, so we can look back and, with reasonable certainty, be able to tell what will or will not create wealth.

One of my favorite quotes by Paul Johnson, a British historian, is applicable: "The study of history is a powerful antidote to contemporary arrogance. It is humbling to discover how many of our glib assumptions, which seem to us novel and plausible, have been tested before, not once but many times and in innumerable guises; and discovered to be, at great human cost, wholly false."

I just finished a book by Jay Richards called "Money, Greed, and God" and it was fantastic. He gives ten points at the end of the book that summarize an excellent and thoughtful book:

The Top Ten Ways to Alleviate Poverty; or, Creating Wealth in Ten Tough Steps

1. Establish and maintain the rule of law.

2. Focus the jurisdiction of the government on maintaining the rule of law, and limit its jurisdiction over the economy and the institutions of civil society.

3. Implement a formal property system with consistent and accessible means for securing a clear title to property one owns.

4. Encourage economic freedom: Allow people to trade goods and services unencumbered by tariffs, subsidies, price controls, undue regulation, and restrictive immigration.

5. Encourage stable families and other important private institutions that mediate between the individual and the state.

6. Encourage belief in the truth that the universe is purposeful and makes sense.

7. Encourage the right cultural mores - orientation to the future and the belief that progress but not utopia is possible in this life; willingness to save and delay gratification; willingness to risk, to respect the rights and property of others, to be diligent, to be thrifty.

8. Instill a proper understanding of the nature of wealth and poverty - that wealth is created, that free trade is win-win, that risk is essential to enterprise, that trade-offs are unavoidable, that the success of others need not come at your own expense, and that you can pursue legitimate self-interest and the common good at the same time.

9. Focus on your competitive advantage rather than protecting what used to be your competitive advantage.

10. Work hard.

D-Day

2009-06-05T08:43:00.000-07:00

It's D-Day tomorrow. Many of my peers arrogantly like to sneer at America and complain about everything wrong with her. As someone who has lived overseas for more than a couple months, I think they are utterly foolish. Instead of getting iPods or Macbooks for graduation, high school graduates should be sent off to a non-western country for six months - perhaps it would help my generation to be much more appreciative and much less narcissistic. Anyways, I'm very thankful for what America and her allies did 65 years ago on those beaches in France.

I could almost have a blog entirely about all the bizarre and interesting things that go on in my life while kicking it through the REM cycle. Last night a rainstorm woke me up and the first thing I thought was, "Is it really pouring in June?". The second thing I thought was, "Who cares?". After falling asleep again, I had a NIGHTMARE that my entire garden got eroded by rain. The night before last, I had a dream that I somehow commanded lots of Transformers. It was totally cool.

Speaking of gardens, Ben and I built a second, larger one that sits next to our driveway. Gardening is proving to be quite an interesting hobby. More than that, though, it's good for my soul and mind. As I learn to garden, parts of the Bible that I have read before take on a deeper and richer meaning. While the Bible was written for everyone everywhere at every time, it was written to ancient peoples completely dependent upon agriculture. Experiencing a small amount of sowing, pruning, and reaping in my own backyard helps me to better understand verses, like these ones I've read recently:

James 5
⁷Be patient, therefore, brothers, until the coming of the Lord. See how the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth, being patient about it, until it receives the early and the late rains. ⁸You also, be patient. Establish your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is at hand.

Isaiah 58
¹¹And the LORD will guide you continually
and satisfy your desire in scorched places
and make your bones strong;
and you shall be like a watered garden,
like a spring of water,
whose waters do not fail.

Jeremiah 17
⁷ "Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD,
whose trust is the LORD.
⁸ He is like a tree planted by water, that sends out its roots by the stream, and does not fear when heat comes, for its leaves remain green, and is not anxious in the year of drought, for it does not cease to bear fruit."

Habakkuk 3
¹⁷Though the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines, the produce of the olive fail and the fields yield no food,
the flock be cut off from the fold
and there be no herd in the stalls,
¹⁸ yet I will rejoice in the LORD;
I will take joy in the God of my salvation.
¹⁹GOD, the Lord, is my strength;
he makes my feet like the deer’s;
he makes me tread on my high places.

Marijke and I are off to a wedding in Livermore today, then it's over to San Francisco tomorrow for an American-themed birthday party. And after that, ANYTHING COULD HAPPEN.

Possibly one of the best songs ever

2009-05-28T09:42:00.000-07:00

For me, Toto is one of those bands that I get a deep hankering for every once in a while. I remember my parents going to a Toto concert when I was in 3rd grade and them telling me, "That guy's voice used to sound a lot better". In 3rd grade, I thought the song, "Africa" was incredible. And 16 years later, I still do.

Music Video:

Engagement: A Male's Perspective, or, How Tim and Marijke Got Their Groove Back

2009-05-16T13:13:00.000-07:00

If I had to guess, I'd bet that most engagement blog entries are written by the woman who has been proposed to, rather than the man who has done the proposing. Last night, I did that proposing, and I will tell you the story like a bard of old.

Yesterday, I took one lovely Marijke M. Van Pelt out for a spot of English tea in Cambria. We went to a teahouse I had heard about called The Tea Cozy. It is the type of place you would normally take your grandma - one visit was enough to last me about 10 years.

A man served us tea and scones. The man pronounced "scone" in a way that rhymed with "lawn" rather than "loan". He seemed sort of prudish, and when I asked him if I could diverge from the normal menu and have only one scone instead of two, he looked down his nose at me and said, "Well, I SUPPOSE you could have one scone, but I for one can NEVER have just one." Marijke and I politely asked for just one scone each.

With our tea dranken, our scones eaten, and my brain filled with the knowledge of what a tea cozy actually is, we left Cambria.

One the way to Cambria, I pointed out a spot along the ocean that I used to surf at. I nonchalantly said, "We should stop by there on the way back south. It is really pretty." So, when we passed it again, I pulled over and we started walking through a field along a path that led to small coastal cliffs.

Here is Marijke right as we started walking, almost completely unsuspicious of the events about the transpire. What a babe:

And here she is, walking straight into the arms of DESTINY:

And then...an OMEN of impending blessing and joy! We saw a white crane standing in the path before us. It might have been an egret or heron, but I am going to assume it was a crane because the story is better that way. The crane is a bird rich in lore and mythology. According to various cultures, the crane is an omen of longevity (Korea, China, Japan, and Vietnam), wisdom (China), joy (Ancient Greece and Rome), loyalty (Medieval Europe), and contemplation (Africa). If you ask me, I'd say we are in for something good.

Mythology and lore aside, Marijke wanted me to take a picture of the beautiful white bird. I lifted my camera to take a picture, but the crane began to fly away. As I tried to take a picture of the flying bird, Marijke stood between it and the camera. In the pictures below, we see her trying to get out of the picture frame.

"Tim, no, not me! The bird, the bird!"

"TIM! THE BIRD! TAKE A PICTURE OF THE BIRD!!!!"

And here we see the crane flying away after having finally delivered her divine oracle of good will and hope.

Marijke thought that running from a crane was the most exciting thing that was going to happen to her that evening, but she was in for a WILD RIDE OF MATRIMONIAL JEWELRY!

So, we walked down to the water and I proceeded to tell Marijke how much and why I loved her. I tried to stop her at a premeditated spot, but she said, "Why are we stopping? Let's go down to the water." I had to play it off and act cool, so I said, "Uh...yeah, I don't know why we should stop. Let's keep walking."

We got down to the water's edge and, upon one knee, I did the deed. I asked Marijke to be my wife. I don't quite remember what happened right then, but Marijke promises me she actually said yes. I don't remember hearing a "yes", but I do remember lots of crying and screaming and jumping.

Crying:

Screaming:

Blinging (a picture from later that night):

After this, Marijke excitedly called a bunch of her friends and family and then we went to dinner in Morro Bay.

I'm going to have a wife. And what a wife!

Paul Johnson on History

2009-05-11T21:34:00.000-07:00

Paul Johnson on history:

"The study of history is a powerful antidote to contemporary arrogance. It is humbling to discover how many of our glib assumptions, which seem to us novel and plausible, have been tested before, not once but many times and in innumerable guises; and discovered to be, at great human cost, wholly false."

My Green Thumb

2009-05-05T15:18:00.000-07:00

About two weeks ago, Marijke and I planted a garden. What began as a cute hobby for a couple has turned into a megalomanic quest for me. As Captain Ahab hunted the White Whale with a cruel determination, so do I pursue homegrown vegetables with a micromanaging obsession.

The hunt for vegetative self-sufficiency began with building a small 1' x 4' planter box. While in Home Depot, my dad told me by phone how to best build it. If you have never tried to figure out how to build something without an actual drawing, let me tell you something: It's about as hard as benchpressing a train - but, I did it.

With the box built, Marijke and I filled the box with soil and planted our crops. From seedlings (very small plants), we planted beans, tomatoes, and basil. From seeds, we've planted parsley, chives, and oregano.

I never thought being a gardener would require so much tyrannical choosing between life and death for my unassuming plants. So far, I've executed one entire basil plant (it was too small and sickly) and have torn leaves from some of the other basil plants and one of the bean plants. At first, my conscience plagued me for selecting which plants would live and die ("Is this plant abortion?!" "Is this plant euthanasia?!"), but as my megalomania has grown, so has my commitment to the purity and strength of my garden.

The weak, diseased, and unproductive shall be cast aside! The strong, vibrant, and fruitful shall be fortified! And in the end, I SHALL EAT SEASONED BEANS AND TOMATOES!

I am really glad that plants don't have souls, or else I'd be in some major ethical hot water.

A few days ago, I noticed the first signs of seed germination. There is something miraculous and mysterious about how a little dry seed can slowly turn into a plant. I find myself checking the small seedlings every day and monitoring their progress. I am also catching myself scanning front yards for signs of growing garden plants.

Gardening may be one of the funnest and most interesting things I've ever come across. I will keep you updated, internet.

Odds and Ends

2009-04-15T08:08:00.001-07:00

This post is going to be a postmodern pastiche of thoughts. It is honor of my last two days in Portland, which is very po-mo.

Here are some things that I've seen in the same park, three weekends in a row:

First weekend: about 40 people walking around downtown Portland in wedding dresses. About half of them were men. I have no idea what they were doing.

Second weekend: a wedding party having their pictures taken. The bridesmaids were all wearing nice black dresses, except that they were all wearing different-colored rain boots. Cute.

Third weekend: a man with a large beard and huge dreadlocks feeding pigeons out of his hand. Sometimes I would look over and he would be holding a pigeon next to his head while he held in the other hand at arm's length a digital camera, to take a picture of himself (with pigeon about two inches from his face).

Also, I have been having incredible dreams lately:

Three nights ago, I dreamt that my best friend Ben and I had come across a new tank and somehow, we knew how to drive it. We were just driving around blowing stuff up and ripping up people's yards. It was an amazing dream.

Two nights ago, I dreamt that I was a commercial pilot...IN THE FUTURE! I was flying all these futuristic airplanes around futuristic cities. It was an amazing dream.

Last night, I dreamt that I became friends with Kanye West and hung out with him a lot. It was an amazing dream.

Thomas Merton says, "Las Vegas sucks"

2009-03-20T13:30:00.000-07:00

There is someone at my work who is a daoist of sorts. He is into all kinds of monkish things and we got into a conversation about Thomas Merton, who was a Catholic trappist monk in the 1950's and 60's. My daoist friend let me borrow a very small book called "Thoughts in Solitude" by Merton. I was really intrigued by his commentary on how modern man has changed the desert with his Las Vegas's and nuclear weapons tests:

"The desert was created simply to be itself, not to be transformed by men into something else...the desert is therefore the logical dwelling place for the man who seeks to be nothing but himself - that is to say, a creature solitary and poor and dependent upon no one but God, with no great project standing between himself and his Creator...

Yet look at the deserts today. What are they? The birthplace of a new and terrible creation, the testing-ground of the power by which man seeks to un-create what God has blessed. Today, in the century of man's greatest technological achievement, the wilderness at last comes into its own. Man no longer needs God, and he can live in the desert on his own resources. He can build there his fantastic protected cities of withdrawal and experience mentation and vice...they are brilliant and sordid smiles of the devil upon the face of the wilderness, cities of secrecy where each man spies on his brother, cities through whose veins money runs like artificial blood, and from whose womb will come the last and greatest instrument of destruction.

Can we watch the growth of these cities and not do something to purify our own hearts? When man and his money and his machines move out into the desert, and dwell there, not fighting the devil as Christ did, but believing in his promises of power and wealth, and adoring his angelic wisdom, then the desert itself moves everywhere. Everywhere is desert. Everywhere is solitude in which man must do penance and fight the adversary and purify his own heart in the grace of God."

Some CS Lewis quotes

2009-03-19T00:17:00.001-07:00

As you may or may not know, I did my senior project on CS Lewis' conversion. Except for rereading a couple books of his, I haven't read too much Lewis since then. My girlfriend Marijke recently gave me his God in the Dock, which I think is the only theological work of his I haven't read. It's a collection of essays, articles, and lectures and I thought I'd post some quotes I read tonight. They are from a question and answer session he participated in:

"Which of the religions of the world gives to its followers the greatest happiness? While it lasts, the religion of worshiping oneself is the best...As you perhaps know, I haven't always been a Christian. I didn't go to religion to make me happy. I always knew a bottle of Port would do that. If you want a religion to make you feel really comfortable, I certainly don't recommend Christianity..."

On disunity in the Church:

"So it seems to me that the 'extremist' elements in every Church are nearest one another and the liberal and 'broad-minded' people in each Body could never be united at all. The world of dogmatic Christianity is a place in which thousands of people of quite different types keep on saying the same thing, and the world of 'broad-mindedness' and watered-down 'religion' is a world where a small number of people (all of the same type) say totally different things and change their minds every few minutes. We shall never get re-union from them."

On going to church:

"When I first became a Christian, about fourteen years ago, I thought that I could do it on my own, by retiring to my rooms and reading theology, and I wouldn’t go to the churches and Gospel Halls; . . . I disliked very much their hymns, which I considered to be fifth-rate poems set to sixth-rate music. But as I went on I saw the great merit of it. I came up against different people of quite different outlooks and different education, and then gradually my conceit just began peeling off. I realized that the hymns (which were just sixth-rate music) were, nevertheless, being sung with devotion and benefit by an old saint in elastic-side boots in the opposite pew, and then you realize that you aren’t fit to clean those boots. It gets you out of your solitary conceit..."

On an interesting name for a bakery company

2009-03-12T14:24:00.000-07:00

I was in El Salvador last week visiting my very lovely girlfriend Marijke. It was a great week, filled with cooking, walking, and warding off Lord Voldemort (Senor Voldemuerte). We went and saw He's Just Not That into You, which is probably the most incredible movie of all time. As we left the movie theater and walked past the shotgun-toting guards, I turned to Marijke and said, "You know, I am really into you" just to make sure she didn't let the title of the movie get to her. We also went to the beach and I tried to hide my gnawing fear of sting rays behind a facade of testosterone and bulging biceps.

But let's just be honest: I was freaked out and as soon as I felt a fish hit my leg, I thought, "I'm out of here." I stuck to the shore for the rest of the day. Don't worry; Marijke still likes me.

Anyways, throughout the week I ate some grain/fruit bars and on my last day there, I noticed the name of the company that made them: Bimbo. Seeing this odd and humorous name for a bakery struck a hauntingly familiar chord in my soul, for it made me think of something that happened to me in childhood.

I must have been about 7 or 8 at the time and we were driving on the freeway through the former sugar-beet capital of the world: Oxnard, CA (If you know me very well, you know that I am not a very big fan of Oxnard, but it's where I was born, so I can't be too much of a hater). Anyways, I looked out the window and I saw a windowless panel van passing by. I thought, "That's interesting. Why wouldn't a van have windows on it?" I noticed the name plastered on the side of it: BIMBO BREADS. My deepest childhood suspcions were confirmed: With no windows and such a ridiculous and obviously-fake name for a company, this was CERTAINLY a CIA spy van. In my great 7-year old wisdom and experience, I was convinced that I was seeing my first real-life spy van. Ever since then, I have been slightly wary of windowless vans.

But now I can let down my guard if I ever see another Bimbo Breads van, since I now know that it's a real company that sells real goods that I really ate last week.

As a sidenote, here's something interesting I saw this morning: A young pregnant woman with a very large afro walking down the street with a baby on her hip. I thought, "That's interesting - I've never seen someone with a large afro who is both pregnant AND carrying a small child. I don't think I'll ever see this again." I paid careful attention because I knew that this was a once-in-a-lifetime event. One day, I'll be telling my grandchildren about it.

anarchists are blockheads

2009-01-24T14:32:00.000-08:00

My job is of a very heroic type. Some heroes rescue infants from burning buildings. Some heroes arrest Nazis in Argentina. Some heroes punch Great White sharks right in the eye.

Me? Well, I empty trash cans and (try to) get rid of anarchist graffiti.

Yesterday at my janitorial job, we got a call that there was some grafitti on the outside of the building. My valiant custodial comrade and I emerged into the morning sunshine armed with nothing more than our audacity and some grafitti removing wipes.

The vandals used some kind of thick latex paint, so we couldn't actually get the paint off the wall, but I was really struck by what they scrawled in large letters:

NO LIMITS, NO LAWS

Next to it, they had put one of those funny anarchist A's.

I immediately thought, "No limits? Really?"

"NO LIMITS" sounds like a pretty limiting statement to me. They chose to write in English and not in any other real or imaginary language. That's a pretty narrow and limited thing to do. And it seems that by using a paintbrush instead of a catfish to paint, they were voluntarily submitting to some kind of limit.

I've just finished reading GK Chesterton's The Man Who Was Thursday, which is maybe why I've been thinking more about anarchists lately. On the surface, the short novel is about anarchists who want to take down the government, but who Chesterton is really critisizing are the anarchists who want to take down God.

"NO LIMITS, NO LAWS" seems a pretty foolish thing to believe, and an even more sophomoric thing to write on the outside of a building.

What I Learned in 7th Grade Health Class

2009-01-19T18:41:00.000-08:00

Last night I was washing my face and, like I always do when annihilating clogged and menacing pores, I thought, "Gotta make sure I really clean the T-zone..."

The "T-zone"? I was suddenly struck by this strange little word and I thought about how I learned it. I learned about the "T-zone" in my 7th-grade health class. In case you were born in a cave or were homeschooled or something, I'll explain what the T-zone is: It's the "T" formed by your forehead and nose. It's where acne is most likely to wage chemical war on your face with weapons of mass destruction.

As I continued washing my face, I thought more about my 7th grade health class and tried to remember every and anything I could about it. Here is what I remember learning from that class:

-Make sure you clean the T-zone really well, or no one will like you, probably.

-Pregnancy and smoking don't mix.

Our teacher had this strange doll that was kind of like a pregnant lady, except that her belly was see through and her mouth was perfectly formed to hold a cigarette. When the teacher lit up a cigarette, she would jam it in the dolls mouth, then pump the doll's torso so the doll would "smoke" and you could see all the junk that goes into a uterus with the wee little baby. I remember it very vividly and I think the whole thing worked, because I still think, "Man, if I am ever pregnant, I am never going to smoke."

I remember when I saw the teacher light up a cigarette, I had this incredible sense of disbelief. I couldn't believe that a TEACHER, of all people, was actually lighting a REAL cigarette at school, in front of all of us impressionable pre-adolescents. It felt like I was partner to some inexcusable crime.

-The only other thing I remember from that class is that my teacher was morbidly obese and throughout the year I would always think, "Well this is ironic."

los angeles traffic can't handle this

2009-01-07T20:56:00.000-08:00

I recently returned to Portland after a couple of holiday weeks in beautiful California. For the second half of my time there, I rented a car with which I could gallivant around the southern third of the Golden State. I reserved the cheapest and smallest car available, but when I arrived at the car-rental station, the kindly woman told me, "I'm sorry, we don't have any of those left. All we have left are Mustangs, but we will charge you the same. Is that ok?" I obliged and received my keys to my new red Mustang.

I felt so obnoxious the whole time I had it and constantly tried to reconstruct internal dialogues people might be having with themselves as I drove by them on the 405 freeway:

"Of course...he WOULD be driving in the fast lane. What a tool!"
"Who does that yuppie think he is?! I bet he thinks he is so much better than me and my PRIUS!"
"GET OFF YOUR HIGH HORSE, NINCOMPOOP!"

Certainly the 'STANG was much funner to drive than my humble Celica. As I merged onto California's concrete arteries, I sometimes punched the gas like a heavyweight champion boxer. I took full advantage of automatic power windows on BOTH sides of the car. I accidently burnt some rubber as I backed out of a parking space on a steep incline. I imagined myself carelessly tossing an half-empty grande Starbucks latte onto the 5 freeway, the wind blowing across my sunglassed head while listening to talk radio.

Thoughts on Christmas from Diedrich Bonhoeffer

2008-12-25T10:42:00.000-08:00

Diedrich Boenhoffer was a Lutheran pastor and theologian in Germany before and during World War II. Along with Karl Barth, he split off from the main Lutheran Evangelical church because of their support for Hitler. Their new "Confessing" church was actively involved in resisting the Nazis and part of a plot to assassinate Hitler. Bonhoeffer originally left Germany to lecture in America about the dangers of Nazi Germany, but returned to Germany in 1939 because he felt like he needed to support and encourage the Christian church there. He was arrested a few years later and wrote many letters from prison. He wrote the following quote towards the end of 1943. He was sent to a concentration camp in 1945 and was hung a month before the war ended.

“From the Christian point of view there is no special problem about Christmas in a prison cell. For many people in this building it will probably be a more sincere and genuine occasion than in places where nothing but the name is kept. That misery, suffering, poverty, loneliness, helplessness, and guilt mean something quite different in the eyes of God from what they mean in the judgment of man, that God will approach where men will turn away, that Christ was born in a stable because there was no room for him in the inn — these are things that a prisoner can understand better than other people; for him they really are glad tidings, and that faith gives him a part in the communion of saints, a Christian fellowship breaking the bounds of time and space and reducing the months of confinement here to insignificance.”

Thoughts on History from my friend Livy

2008-12-11T22:35:00.000-08:00

I have a friend named Titus Livius. We close friends of him call him Livy for short. Livy was born in northern Italy in 59 BC. He died in 17 AD. He had a pretty famous acquantance named Augustus, who also happens to be that dude named Caesar who also happened to make Joseph and Mary take a hike from Nazareth to Bethlehem.

Livy wrote about the history of his country from about 750BC to 9BC. I am reading his history books right now and they are absolutely fascinating. The following quote comes from the very beginning of his work; I was struck by its insight and its concern coming from a man whose nation (as he knew it) would exist for another few hundred years. His attention to the decline of morality (and subsequent lack of desire to do anything about it) especially struck me. The part I've italicized struck me as eerily contemporary.

"I invite the reader's attention to the much more serious consideration of the kinds of lives our ancestors lived, of who were the men, and what the means both in politics and war by which Rome's power was first acquired and subsequently expanded; I would then have him trace the process of our moral decline, to watch, first, the sinking of the foundations of morality as the old teaching was allowed to lapse, then the rapidly increasing disintegration, then the final collapse of the whole edifice, and the dark dawning of our modern day when we can neither endure our vices nor face the remedies needed to cure them.

The study of history is the best medicine for a sick mind; for in history you have a record of the infinite variety of human experience plainly set out for all to see; and in that record you can find for yourself and your country both examples and warnings; fine things to take as models, base things, rotten through and through, to avoid."

If I were to ever be a history teacher, I would certainly read aloud on the first day of class the second part of this quote.

the hills are alive

2008-11-30T20:58:00.001-08:00

For the last two nights, the Von Trapp children have performed at my work.

Yes, that's right. THE Von Trapp children. Actually, the grandchildren of THE Von Trapp children of Sound of Music fame.

Who would have thought that there were still real Von Trapps running around singing and yodeling about Christmas and Edelweiss and saying goodbye? Not me, for one.

There are four Von Trapp children; three girls, one boy, and all of them hormonally-raging teenagers. The youngest is the boy, but luckily puberty is leaving his vocal range in tact.

After seeing the Von Trapp children in concert (more like cleaning toilets while hearing them over the speaker system), I have come to a brilliant resolution:

Resolved, to vehemently fight off Nazis with my beautiful wife then dress our many children in lederhosen, teach them how to sing (or ROCK) and tour the world with them, making billions and billions of dollars in the process.

i'm a magnet for bizarro

2008-11-23T18:00:00.000-08:00

I don't know what the deal is, but I have the uncanny ability to end up in strange and awkward situations in bathrooms with other men.

Last night, I went to see the Batman movie with my roommate Chris. It far exceeded all the hype given to it. I left with my mind blown and my face melted, just as I did when I saw the first Batman on opening day in 1989 (I remember being mind-blown and face-melted, even though I was only 4).

I went to the bathroom before the movie started, and as I began my stint at the urinal, I heard someone say:

"Hey, that looks like a nice pisser!" A man in his late twenties approached the urinal next to me and began his business there. He then said,
"So, you got lots of lady friends here tonight?"
"Nope...I'm just here with my roommate."
"Oh, that's cool, that's cool. I bet with those glasses you have lots of lady friends."
"I have a girlfriend and she's great."
"Oh yeah, yeah, well you should have a girlfriend with glasses as cool as those ones."
"Thanks..."
"Sure thing, sure thing."

I ended the conversation with a friendly, "Well, I'm done. I'll see you around."

I don't know how I end up in these bizarre situations so often.

I Found the Winner in Me

2008-11-17T22:56:00.000-08:00

There are some times in a man's life when he is so excited about something that he wants to just rip his shirt off right there.

Like the first time he kicks in a carved pumpkin (Don't worry: Real men kick in their own pumpkins. Kicking in little kids' pumpkins is for cowards and milquetoasts.)

Like the first time he throws a broken TV off of a building into a dumpster.

Like when he doesn't cut himself shaving for the first time in weeks.

Tonight, I did not cut myself shaving. I am a VICTOR!

For some reason, I still have issues with shaving my face. I've been shaving for a while, but somehow I often end up with nicks. If you had interviewed me when I first started shaving and said, "Tim, you are quite the awkwardly-pubescent teenager and you are clearly just learning how to shave. Do you think that in 8 years you will still be figuring out how to not hurt yourself when you shave?", I would have replied with a hearty, "No! Certainly I will have it down by then!"

Well, I would have been wrong. I don't have it down. But I am learning. And tonight gave me hope that I don't always have to cut myself.

Riddle

2008-10-28T20:43:00.001-07:00

Here is a riddle:

What picks up used syringes up off the bathroom floor, gets majorly hit on by a drunk gay guy, and watches the Oregon Sympony perform all of "Peter and the Wolf"?

Hint: It's a custodian.

Answer: It's me, at work.

I have a very interesting job. Between vehemently and respectfully turning down a man's romantic entreaties and cleaning bathrooms, I get to do stuff like read for fun. I also have learned more about cleaning chemicals and how recycling works in Oregon.

Right now I am listening to Elvis Costello. When he was first starting out as a musician in the mid seventies, he worked as a computer programmer as a day job. So I have been thinking about the possibility of me making it big as a rock star and later, people will read about me on wikipedia and it will say "He worked as a lowly custodian during the day, but at night, he totally cut loose and rocked his brains out!"

But I'm not counting on it.

Life in Zion...er..I mean, Portland

2008-10-21T13:44:00.001-07:00

You know you are in Portland when you see pumpkins on people's doorsteps carved to look like the messiah (aka Barack Obama).

Tomorrow night, I will be cleaning the bathrooms during a ZZ Top concert. Should be...interesting? What WAS interesting and exciting was the part of a piano concerto I got to watch over the weekend.

Sometimes I Read

2008-10-15T17:57:00.000-07:00

I recently started reading St. Augustine's City of God for fun. He wrote a few years after the barbarians first sacked Rome. He wrote it to counter the many pagans who blamed the Christians for Rome's downfall, since the Christians didn't sacrifice to the Roman gods. He goes on to describe the contrast between the city of man (the state/world) and the city of God (what God is doing now and in the future), and how man's only true hope is in the city of God. I wanted to read it because I've been thinking a lot lately about America and how she isn't quite as strong as she used to be. In this political season, there are a lot of people running around (especially here in Portland) who seem to put all of their hope in a political figure or agenda. For being 1600 years old, Augustine's words are eerily relevant.

I read this part today and it blew me away because of how much it reminds me of Americans today. Augustine is referring to an old Roman general named Scipio who voted in 146BC against destroying Carthage, the capital of Rome's number on enemy. The senate voted to go ahead and destroy it, and Scipio dutifully carried it out. Scipio didn't want to destroy Carthage because he feared that in the absence of an enemy, the Romans would grow so comfortable that they would drown in the vomit of their own luxuries.

Augustine is telling his detractors that the destruction of Rome has done nothing to curb their licentiously destructive and vain lifestyles and points to the pagan example of Scipio:

"This was the foul plague-spot, this the wreck of virtue and honour that Scipio sought to preserve you from when he prohibited the construction of theaters; this was his reason for desiring that you might still have an enemy to fear, seeing as he did how easily prosperity would corrupt and destroy you. He did not consider the republic flourishing whose walls stand, but whose morals are in ruin.

But the seductions of evil-minded devils had more influence with you than the precautions of prudent men. Hence the injuries you do, you will not permit to be imputed to you; but the injuries you suffer, you impute to Christianity. Depraved by good fortune, and not chastened by adversity, what you desire in the restoration of a peaceful and secure state, is not the tranquillity of the commonwealth, but the impunity of your own vicious luxury.

Scipio wished you to be hard pressed by an enemy, that you might not abandon yourselves to luxurious manners; but so abandoned are you, that not even when crushed by the enemy is your luxury repressed. You have missed the profit of your calamity; you have been made most wretched, and you have remained most profligate."

i have slain unemployment (for now)

2008-10-12T21:51:00.000-07:00

I'll admit that I've been a bit slow on updating the ol' blog for the last couple weeks. And I am not going to apologize for it.

Nope.

Because I don't take crap from anyone.

Because I don't need to.

BECAUSE I AM A UNION MEMBER.

That's right, friends. I have officially joined a union. And by "joined a union", I really mean, "having no choice and being forced into a union in order to get my current job".

After finishing one and a half majors and starting another, I am officially and rapidly scaling the success ladder.

I have made it in the world.

I am somebody.

I work twenty hours a week.

I AM A UNIONIZED CUSTODIAN.

You heard right again. I got a job polishing brass, cleaning bathrooms, and picking up trash at the Portland Center for the Performing Arts. This has turned out to be a great job so far...I have a bunch of down time while working and can read for school/pleasure, roam around, eat the occasional free cookie, and view whatever performances happen to be going on. Last night I got to watch about 45 minutes of the ballet "Swan Lake". It was fantastic. I have little exposure to the ballet world, but I am learning and trying to appreciate it more.

In a couple weeks I'll be working during a ZZ Top show. I've heard that they are bringing 7 tour busses. One for each of the band members (beards and all) and four for everyone else.

So far, I am pretty unsure of why the heck the union is important. So far, the only thing I can tell it does is limits the number of hours I work. The union says "you can't work more than 32 hours a week". I say, "Yes I can. You don't know me." They say, "No you can't." Maybe I will find out more as the job goes on, but so far the union seems pretty silly.

I am so culturally with it

2008-09-27T22:44:00.000-07:00

Tonight I went to the Portland Polish Festival. I:

-ate potato pancakes (platskis). Amazing.
-ate a cheese dumpling. Equally amazing, but also death-defyingly rich.
-listened to a polka band play the hokey pokey once and the chicken dance twice.
-got elbowed in the face by a random festival-goer.
-accidentally knocked over a little boy while polka dancing. Don't worry, he got over it and I got more careful.