Helping People Move Like Jesus

     Have you ever heard of the notion that it is impossible to do a truly selfless act? The idea is, whatever you do to help someone else will inevitably help you somehow too. Maybe it makes you feel good, or someone owes you a favor, or you get a reward of some kind. For example. if we give food to the homeless on the street we ease our guilt about there being homeless people on the street.
     Apparently it was the French philosopher Jacques Derrida (read as JACKwah Da-ree-dah with your nose up in the air) who first proposed this heartwarming nugget of truth. He went on, if the internets are to be believed, to state the only way completely selfless acts are possible is to give your life to something (or for someone), and that Jesus himself performed that act.

     Well, I thought I'd found something that disproved his theory: helping people move. I hate helping people move. It's boring, it takes an eternity to complete, the job is never finished, it is frustrating trying to move couches through doorways, and nothing ever has a handle to grab. You move stuff from the house to the truck, then from the truck back to another house. You might get rewarded with pizza.
     I will help friends move, and do it with a smile on my face, because they are friends. Friends helped me move. I understand that's how it works. But one time I was called by my friend John to help a stranger move. Someone I'd never met before, who went to a different church and wasn't really in need of help (he was moving things to his summer home in SunRiver -- just hire some movers!).
     I hadn't seen John in a while, had nothing going on that day, and figured I should help. John said "It should just be a couple of hours," which of course means it will take three days. We picked up the UHaul, drove the 45 minutes to his house on the McKenzie river, and got started. Yes, it took us over an hour just to start moving. Start to finish it took us about 7 hours of work. He ended up paying us some fair amount.
     But there was a moment inbetween the starting and the realizing we were going to get paid where I turned to John and said "You know John, I hate helping people move. It's probably the chore in life I enjoy the least. I would rather go to the dentist. But I just realized that by helping this stranger move, who I don't know and won't get any reward for, I am doing quite possibly the most selfless act I could do. This is quite literally when I am most like Jesus."
     Which I promptly followed with "Isn't that pathetic?"

     Ha! I was in the process of performing an act that gave me no tangible reward, no emotional reward, and really no feeling of satisfaction, despite the fact that I did not enjoy the act itself at all. At that moment, I had proven that uppity jerk Jackwa wrong. I tell you this long, boring story to give you hope.
     Then I got paid. And bought a pizza. And realized that I had proven that uppity jerk wrong, and realizing that made me happy. Now, when I go to help someone move, I enjoy it a bit more because I can think about what a great person I am.
     For example, yesterday I helped a friend move from his apartment to his new house. He and his wife had just recieved their keys to their first home and I was happy to help (even volunteered!). Cody and his brother are strong dudes who run their own little moving company, so it went by lightning quick. There's nothing quite as emasculating as seeing two guys move a big couch around a few corners and doorways, and - while holding the couch - ask me to grab the cushions. (I did, however, move his 5, 10 and 15 pound weights all by myself. In three trips.) I enjoyed the move, because the whole time I could take satisfaction in doing something selfless. I was selfishly seeking selflessness, which really undermines the whole premise that I can help people move in a purely selfless way. Ugh, that bastard Jackwa has beaten me.
     (Also, sometimes helping people move can be fun, if they have to move embarrassing stuff. Cody had two hula hoops. Hula hoops!! He can claim they are his wife's but I don't believe him - his hips are too well defined. We also threw his kitchen table off the balcony. And he had like seven toaster-ovens that he moved as well. He did decide to give his brother his old Space Jam poster, however. All but one of the above things are true.)

Is it embarrassing that Bugs Bunny is listed before Michael Jordan?  Maybe. Is it embarrassing that my wife was like "you should put a picture of Space Jam on the blog" as she read and then said "one with Shaquille O'Neal on it." ?? Yes. That is embarrassing.

     I wonder: if I hadn't been aware of this truly-selfish-acts-are-impossible conundrum, if I ever performed one (shy of dying), would it count? The only thing that ruins my helping-people-move theory is knowing that it makes a good argument against that conundrum. I don't know. You don't care. Let's call it quits.

     But first: admit it. Based on the title, you thought this post was going to be about a Christian Dance Party I was throwing (which I have done), or maybe a dance-rehab-class, or a Maroon 5 Moves Like Jagger remix or something, didn't you. Sucker. 

When the Guy Should Pay

     I've heard a couple of stories lately from friends where two people are on a date and the guy doesn't pay for the meal. I think in both cases it was a first-time-date. (In one of these dates the guy had already ordered food before the gal showed up, so, that's a special case I suppose). This seems to be a growing trend. I think part of it is due to the fear that a feminism-empowered woman might take offense at the insinuation that she can't afford her own meal. I'd like to propose another theory from personal experience:

     He doesn't have any money.

     In college I had a girlfriend coming to visit from California. We had met over the summer at a camp in Colorado. She hadn't been to Eugene yet, so none of my friends knew her, and they were pretty sure I was making her up.
     I was fantastically poor in college. I once went a whole month with two dollars in the bank. I literally wrote a bad check to the IRS to pay my taxes, and those taxes were 36 dollars. (My assumption was that I was going to get paid before they got around to cashing the check, so it wouldn't be a big deal. I told this to my then-friend-now-wife Cara as an aside one day and she gave me 40 dollars right then and there, freaking out a bit. I guess I could have gone to jail or something? I don't know, it would have worked out. Ultimately, of course, I had done my taxes wrong and was owed a refund. I really had it together back then.)

     Before she came to visit, my mother - in her infinite, penetrating wisdom - gave me some gifts. A gift card to Red Robin, a gift card to Safeway, and a little cash. This came unasked for and was extremely appreciated. I think my mom knew that any girl who would take an interest in me needed all the help she, and I, could get.
     When she got into town we had a lot of fun. She met a billion people, saw that I was right when I said Oregon was way prettier than California, and had to put up with my house that smelled like boy-in-basement, among other things.
     One of the last nights she was in town, a bunch of friends were going out to dinner and invited us. I said "Let's go to Red Robin!" But Kyle worked there and was sick of it, and that place isn't cool when you are in college. "No!! Really! Red Robin!!" I kept insisting. I had to use that gift card. It was decided we would go to McMenamins.
     After we'd had our food, the check comes back and people are splitting it up, with all of the guys paying for their girlfriends if they had one present. I don't know why I waited until this point, maybe I thought someone would pick up the check, or something else magical would happen (really, these things tend to work out for me more often than you'd believe), but as people were getting out their wallets I whispered to my date "so... I only have four dollars. I can't pay for this." She smiled, gave me a look of pity, and grabbed her purse. She was gracious enough to hand me some cash and let me put it on the table. I might have offered to pay the tip.

     Believe it or not, she eventually realized she could do better.

     About two weeks later, I sold the 50 dollar Safeway gift card to a friend for 50 so I could pay rent. He was a good friend. I had lots of good friends, really. And my parents lived in town and my sister lived in a sorority of sorts, so I always had food if I needed it. I didn't have a car, played my friends' video games, didn't have any heat in my house and smelled like damp goose poo most of the time. I had a great time in college, but I don't miss it.

     So, I think what we should all take away from this is clear: The guy should pay for the food if he is asking her, or set up on, the date. If he doesn't have any money, he shouldn't take the girl to a place where money is required. If he doesn't have any money, has poor hygiene and once tried to defraud the US government, he's not worth keeping around.

Batman: Literary Triumph

     I am drawn to a specific type of story. I love Sherlock Holmes, Jason Bourne, The Count of Monte Cristo, Batman, and I recently read a novel called Shogun. All of the characters in these stories don't have a rags-to-riches tale. They aren't unwilling heroes, they aren't fulfilling some grand destiny, and they never rejected the call to be a hero. They start out strong, smart, talented and clever, and - with the exception of Sherlock - are terribly wronged. Be it by chance, conspiracy, or nature, each of the above men are thrown into a world they must adapt to, master, and then ultimately manipulate. I don't know why I like these stories so much;  it's probably an attraction to power at some level. But when you read through the above characters and titles, they are all well renowned works of fiction and literature. Sherlock lives on today, Bourne was Robert Ludlum's greatest triumph, The Count is considered a classic, and Shogun has its merits as well. Does Batman belong in that list?

Nothing about this guy isn't cool

     There's been a long, intellectual debate if comics can be art. I think they settled on "yes," though the answer wasn't that simple. But, more specifically, can a "superhero" by a triumph of literature? In general, I doubt it, with Batman, certainly.
     Like The Count of Monte Cristo, Batman was wronged at a young age, trained and learned in solitude, inhereted a buttload of money, returned home in a disguise and was loved and famous. Like Jason Bourne, his family was taken from him and he broke down. Like Sherlock, he has an encyclopedic knowledge and understanding of the world around him and solves crimes on higher plane than the police. (Actually, I think the Batman story borrowed heavily from all of those characters, as well as Zorro.)
     My fascination with Batman began at a young age. I liked his cool cave, fast car, and that he threw batarangs. He was in a simply perfect cartoon that caught me at the right age. But I was also into Spider-man and Superman and The Ninja Turtles when I was young, and all of those interests have essentially faded (meaning I don't express them in public too often). But I still find Batman very compelling.
     He's terribly human. He fails all the time. He once had a Robin die under his watch (there have been multiple Robins, each less gay than his predecessor). Another partner was paralyzed by The Joker. He's been tricked and manipulated by women he loved. He's had his back literally broken by a nemesis. He has to live with these failures and deal with them daily, and they play with his mind and are a backdrop for every decision he makes. Reading his stories is very similar to reading about more respected characters from literature's annals.

This blog exists to justify more cool pictures

     He's not like other superheroes. Superman is fun because you get to see just how strong he is. But every comic kind of has to one-up the previous comic. He lifts a car, then a plane, then a boat, then a building, then an asteroid. He once saved the whole universe by restarting its energy or something. Pretty soon you realize that to make Superman interesting, he has to be an idiot. He has super strength and speed, but somehow decides to stop and talk, real close, to the bad guy with kryptonite behind his back. Superman's stories lose their hold after a while, because of course he's going to win. His dog is stronger and smarter than all of us.
     I could go on and on. In fact I plan to, some other time(s). I think Batman is worth reading, simply because he's downright interesting. Not just in a "wow he just beat up 17 people!!" way, but simply as a character with flaws, depth and struggles.

     If you'd like to try reading some Batman, the "graphic novel" (fancy term for "collection of comics") called Batman: Hush is phenomenal. The artwork is stunning, the characters and plot move fast, and the story is very clever. Go sit in Borders Barnes and Noble, buy a coffee and read it.
     (I like to believe that if you buy a drink you aren't stealing so much as paying for a service.)

Worth reading

Reconnecting With Old Flames

     I'm not sure how to go about interacting with previous girlfriends (or girls that I liked, or - much more common - girls that were in love with me). Today I came across three ladies that I used to be quite fond of.  Emily, Natalie, and Martie are their names, and we ran into each other in a garage - working on cars - of all places.

     You might know them as The Dixie Chicks.

     My fondness of The Dixie Chicks is more akin to stockholm syndrome than true affection. For my first two years of highschool, I spent nearly all of my time in the backseat of my older sister's car. She was invariably driving and giggling with her friend Lindsey, and they listened to a lot of those chicks from Dixie. I had no choice.
     I did not like them. They were girly and whiny and annoying. Incubus was just soooo much better. But, as it always happens, there was one song that on one day I found funny. That song where Earl has to die. (After rewatching that video, that's Jenna Maroney from 30Rock playing the, um, murderer!!)
     I would perk up when Goodbye Earl would play. Then I started to like Sin Wagon. Soon, I too felt readreadyreadyready ready to run, because all I was ready to do was have some fun. I don't know if I can name any other songs, but I bet if one came on I could sing along with it, and would enjoy it.

     So my poor friend and I are in his shop working on my car, which isn't starting everytime anymore. It also locks itself. Anyways, I am one the phone with the parts shop, looking for a solenoid coil to put in the starter. You know, man stuff. I'm talking with the guy at Knecht's (probably named Earl) and all of a sudden Wide Open Spaces comes on the radio (I can name that one too). I tell my friend, without thinking, "I love the Dixie Chicks," which I am sure the guy on the other end overheard. Nothing like manly car working while professing emotions for that early 2000's girls band.

     I would like to add that Ashley and Lindsey laughed about the dumbest stuff. They'd need gas and start laughing. Again?! We just bought gas yesterday!! They'd drive into a gas station, and say let's see if we can pay for a quarter of gas!? The gas-man would come up and they'd hand him a quarter, ask for regular, and do their patented spit-take laughs. When the guy gave them their gas, they'd drive off and say ohmygosh he thought we were so weird. Laughing all the way.
     I swear we spent like half an hour a day at gas stations. I'd offer to pay a few bucks just so I wouldn't learn the gas-man's names. I had a lot of fun with those girls, though. They'd let me ride with them to football games, and if it was an away game we'd get there by halftime (it's hard finding North Eugene). We'd pick up six thousand people to take to young life club. Sometimes a song they loved would come on and we'd jump out of the car and start dancing. I wouldn't trade those two years for three or four of those years, no sir.

     Other things-of-yore that I have rediscovered: 
     The tv show Scrubs. It is still great in its early seasons. My college roommates and I watched this show more than any other.
     Seeing things. I got glasses again. They are a bit crooked though. I always feel bad making those glasses people at the store try and fit my crooked ears over and over and over again, so I leave and say thanks. Unfortunately, I sprung for the super bendy frames, so I can't correct them myself. Also, they are transition lenses which are kind of embarrassing when I walk indoors on a sunny day.
     Video game music from when I was young. I think that one is self explanatory.
     Naps.

     Other things that could go into a list:
     Trampolines.
     Board games. I like playing them a lot, and luckily I have a lot of friends that do too. It's fun that there are lots of good games that aren't the boring "family" games that I grew up with. I hope I never have to play Sorry again.
     Minivans. Why on earth does my wife want a minivan for our one child? It's a bit early, right?
     Trucks. We need a truck!
     

Stuff That Happened To Me Today

     I subbed at the high school today for the first time in like two months.I've learned a couple of tricks in my last couple subbing adventures that I'd like to share with you.

     If the class has no homework assigned, I will lie to them. I should point out, I lie to students all the time. It's one of my main teaching strategies. I tell students I like them when I don't or that I don't like them when I do, or that their test is going to be hard when it's easy, or that I once hit a squirrel in the face with a rock. Things like that. Well, if the class doesn't have any homework, it's because they have a test that day. So I tell the students, "After you finish your test I'll put the homework on the board." When they all finish the test, I say, "You know, you worked real hard on that test and were a good class, so I am just not going to assign the homework. If your teacher has any issue with that, she can take it up with me."

     You should see the smiles on these kids' faces. They call me a hero and applaud me and give me high-fives and handshakes. It's wonderful.

     I wanted to feel that feeling more often. The feeling of being more-than-tolerated. So now, when classes do have homework, I lie. Say they are supposed to do problems 25 - 45 odd. I will write on the board "Page 312, problems 25 - 45 odd, 53 - 61 odd. Then, after a few moments, say, "no, that's too long," and erase the made-up stuff. They get much more confused and stressed, and aren't really relieved or proud of me at all, but I am still having fun. I think that's what matters most.

     I've always been kind of fascinated that I can just say stuff and people do it. Not even in teaching, but in life in general. I have a pathological addiction to lying, I think, kind of like the janitor. Everything written here is totally true, though.

     Another sub trick, although it is really more like a life trick, happens when reading names. I'll read, out loud, about 130 names a day when I sub, and I always feel bad for the kids that always have their names pronounced wrong. I've learned that you are much more likely to say a name right if you say it as fast as you possibly can. This works especially well with Asian names, if I am allowed to say that. Also, I will somewhat randomly alternate between first and last names, so that if a person has one name I am comfortable with I can say it and not look like I am singling anybody out. Still, I really butchered like 5 names today...

     I was walking Wyatt around the loop trying to get him to fall asleep. After a few laps, I burped, then he burped, then he farted and I farted before he was done farting. Then he peed.

     

Take My Advice: Read The Bourne Identity

One of my favorite books AND movies

     The Bourne Ultimatum was on TV last night (New Year's Eve), right around midnight. I know this because I was at a totally awesome party with lots of fun, beautiful people all night long and we were having a great time. That's how I know. The Bourne Ultimatum is one of my favorite movies, so much so that I've already mentioned it twice before in other posts. I'd like to discuss the person of Jason Bourne now, if you don't mind.
     Jason Bourne is one of my favorite characters in fiction. Batman, Sherlock and Bourne round out my top three. All three of them are independent, brilliant and have skills honed specifically for their respective fields. All three of them use disguises, can tell if someone is lying, are physically imposing, and are masters of manipulating those around them. I essentially view them as fictionalized versions of myself, really.

     One of the most pretentious sentences uttered in the English language is "I liked it but the book was better." (It's right up there with having a British accent.) Of course the book was better. The book didn't have to be 90 minutes long, the book was able to leave characters and images up to your imagination, the book has some sort of narration explaining what's going on, and the book has tons of other advantages as well. The book is always better.

Matt Damon actually fits the
description of Jason Boure very well

     In The Bourne Identity, Jason Bourne wakes up on a boat and can't remember who he is. He knows that he can fight and that he can speak several languages and that he was shot in the back, but that's it. Both the book and the movie (by the same name) have this in common. And from there, Jason Bourne tries to figure out who he is while running from the police and the CIA and falling in love with a girl.
     The above paragraph contains everything the two mediums (book and movie) have in common. It is essentially the entire movie, but only scratches the surface of the book. The book is the most complex, layered, exhilarating spy thriller I have ever read (and I have read at least five spy books!). Jason Bourne does everything in the above paragraph, but is also running from another assassin that he was originally trained to kill. He's a master of disguises, has several identities that other people know and he can't remember (so he makes them up on the fly and runs with it), can tell when people are lying, and can read the signs of the CIA and Interpol throughout society that we'd never be aware of. Trust me, it is absurdly fun and it should be the next book you read. The book is always better, and I pretty much read it in one night in my hammock one summer.

     Disparities between books and their movie counterparts often frustrate people. If you've read and loved The Lord of the Rings, then the movies probably had omissions and additions that really irritated you. This doesn't really bother me, though. I don't get frustrated when a movie isn't like the book, because I've chosen to treat the movie as a separate story.
     So, The Bourne Identity movie is a fun, smart, quick thriller that has the same basic premise as it's book counterpart, but shares little else in common. The second and third movies (Bourne Supremacy and Ultimatum) have literally nothing in common with the books beyond the character Jason Bourne. I don't find this irritating, in fact I love it. Instead of having three Bourne books and three movies about those books, it's like I have 6 different, wonderful stories that take place in this world. In the same way, I liked the two Sherlock Holmes movies with Robert Downey Jr. because they took parts of some Sherlock stories and played with them. They are new adventures for me to consume and enjoy.

     A word of warning: After you read The Bourne Identity, you will read Supremacy and Ultimatum (both aren't as good, but they're still fun), and then you'll want more. You'll do some research and find that a guy named Eric Van Lustbader wrote two more Bourne books (Legacy and, winning the award for the least inspired title ever, Conspiracy), and be tempted to read them. I read The Bourne Legacy and it is atrocious. It is one of the worst books I have ever read, and certainly the worst book that I have started and finished that wasn't for school. Maybe two cool things happen total, the author pulls out a trope-heavy son that Jason has and is a bad guy spy, and I have to pretend like it didn't happen (sort of like that 4th Indiana Jones movie or the second and third Matrix movies).
     I don't read a lot. Maybe two or three books a year, and most of them in a summer. So don't think that I am well-read or actually know what I am talking about. But The Bourne Identity is worth reading, trust me.