Summer Solstice: A Dark Day

   The longest, brightest day of the year almost always depresses me. No, really. Just a little. What is wrong with me? How does it happen?

   I am a very glass-half-full kind of guy. I am often able to successfully rationalize the benefits of an event, even if the event switches. Does that make sense? Say there is this meeting I'll eventually need to have, for whatever reason. The meeting could be today or it could be next month. I find myself thinking "If I have to go to this meeting today, that's okay because then I won't have to have it later," but then if the meeting is later, I will think "I sure am glad I don't have to go to this meeting now, I can just go to it later." I shouldn't be able to pull a best-case scenario out of a binary action like that, but I do. All the time. (actually, comedian Demetri Martin sums up my life-philosophy quite well in this little bit. It's safe.)

   So, as a teacher who treasures his summers, loves warm, bright evenings and could spend all day outside, why does the Summer Solstice sadden me? Because it harkens a decline. A decline in the hours of the day, really. It should be the pinnacle of the year, but WHY CAN'T IT COME IN THE MIDDLE OF JULY!? When it comes seven-tenths of the way through June, things are just starting! The sun is growing it's force, school is barely out, playing is just about to really get going, and already the days start to get shorter?! That doesn't seem right. It's hard for me to deal with.

   On the other side, I love the Winter Solstice. The shortest day of the year? Sweet. We got through it. It's all getting better now. Soon the clocks will switch back, the nights will be brighter, and the worst of it is over. I somehow enjoy the worst day of the year more than the best day of the year. I dread the decline but look forward to the ascent. This flies in the face of my perma-glass-half-full defense I've set up, but it persists.

Oregon. Be jealous.

   I feel a lot of pressure when the sun is out. Everyone who lives in the Pacific Northwest gets this. We have such ample stuff to play in, with our lakes and rivers and mountains and ocean aplenty, and we have so few days of sunshine to really play with, that when they come you feel the need to use them. I don't play video games in the summer unless the sun is down. If I am going to read, I read outside. If I have work to do, I do it early in the morning before that heat is there to power my solar self. I actually go for runs (I detest running) because it's a reason to be outside. There's a finite amount of play that I can have. I need to play in it.
   I feel the pressure to have a successful summer. My goal is to have this day, some randome day in the middle of August, where I take a deep breath, satisfied that I have done enough. That I've swam and biked and hiked and frisbeed and floated and hammocked and laughed and firepitted and traveled and explored and adventured enough to get me through the upcoming play hibernation.
   I don't feel that pressure in the wet months. In fact, I feel free. I feel free to sit around, to play video games, to watch Netflix, to grade and write tests. I love that my job takes place during the bad months and is over just as things get good. I'd have a hard time working when the sun is out. Something feels off when I find the winter months more calming, despite the calm that summer actually brings to my life.

   (Fall helps. I am able to ease into the end of summer with beautiful weather, surrounding beauty, harvest foods to consume, and of course football.)

   This is my main dilemma - maybe I shouldn't say dilemma but instead "question" - about heaven. Is it always summer? Can there be a winter? Can there be seasons? Is there change? Change is hard. Change is bad, right? If things are perfect, there can't be change, because that would imply either things weren't perfect before the change or they aren't perfect after the change, right? Is that river always flowing, and the sun always shining, and every day it is there for me to choose to either swim in it, lay by it, float down it, or stare at it and listen to it?

   I actually think that's the great miracle about heaven. Well, maybe not the Great Miracle of heaven. Apart from the idea that heaven is infinite, that you never reach a halfway point and therefore never have to worry about the decline (there is no solstice! what?!). Apart from the fact that you are with God. Apart from all of the obvious stuff, I think the miracle of heaven, at least for me, is that change is good. Always good, always better. We can change from one perfect to another perfect. Change is transformed from a source of pain (is it THE source of pain?) to a new type of joy that comes from change. There has to be change, because we'll always have more God to experience. There's no solstice with Him.

   Maybe that's the real root of my anxiety about the longest day of the year. It's not something that I want to experience, because ultimately a climax signals either a decline or an end. I don't want those things. I don't think I am going to have them in Heaven. There's no solstice there.

My Experience With Violent Video Games

   I've been thinking about writing on violent video games for a while. Years, really. I probably haven't written anything because there's a bit of shame involved, but I also don't think that anecdotal experiences are very worthwhile in discussions of such enormous gravity. Still, I want to share a couple of stories from yesteryear that might inform a few opinions on the issue.
   I'm not a "gamer" in the sense that I don't spend all my time playing video games, I don't get all of the new video games, and I don't play all the major games out there. I can list off my favorite games, but the words Metroid, Smash Bros, Red Dead and Resident Evil don't mean a lot to people that aren't "gamers," even though you recognize games called Zelda and Mario, which I also adore. So let me make this a bit more accessible for those of you that don't own a console (if you don't need a primer on the basics of games, skip the next four paragraphs).

   There are, in my opinion, four main brands of violent video games: War games, zombie shooters, sci-fi shooters, and GTA. (I'm not including fighters like Street Fighter or Soul Caliber because I don't think they apply here).

   War games, the most famous being Call of Duty, involve playing through a battle scenario. They put out a new Call of Duty game pretty much every year. These games originally took place during WWII, but now have a modern-day feel fighting terrorists or Russians or whoever. They are huge sellers and everyone plays them, and lots of virtual people get killed.
   Zombie shooters have a me-against-the-world mentality, and the main game in this genre is Resident Evil. They put out a big, new RE game about once every other year, though there are lots of smaller games all over the place.
   Sci-fi shooters are like the Call of Duty games, only they involve killing aliens and people instead of just people, and don't use realistic weapons. This is the Halo genre.
   Finally, there's Grand Theft Auto. The general genre here is called "sandbox" because its an open world you explore and play in. GTA games take about 4 years to make because they are so vast and expansive. These games center on a character that the player becomes. He runs errands and completes missions, but much of the game involves stealing cars, running over strangers on the street, and killing whomever you want. The phrase "pistol whipped a prostitute to death" could be used at any time to describe a recent event, if the player so chooses.

   There's lots to explore and discuss, but I want to tell a couple of stories about violent video games and me.

   Story 1: I've never played Grand Theft Auto. I've played the wild-west version, made by the same company, called Red Dead Redemption. In high school, a friend of mine was playing GTA every free moment he had (it's a very immersive, addictive game. Lots of people play it in long streaks). He's a nice, normal guy and was a nice, normal kid. We were walking to lunch on the sidewalk one day and he looked at me and said "Wow, I've been playing so much Grand Theft Auto that I just had the urge to run to that car, pull the driver out of it, beat him up and drive off." (That happens innumerable times in the game).

   Story 2: Resident Evil 4 is one of my favorite games ever. I don't play violent games much (never played GTA, never played Call of Duty, played very little Halo). In RE4 you progress through a world killing zombies by the skin of your teeth. It is absurdly fun and immersive, to the point that one night, after having played it for hours, I came across this terrifying zombie. It was probably 1:30 in the morning. I couldn't kill it so I ran from it. I turned a corner and there was another one that started to eat my neck. I got so scared I turned off the console at that exact moment and put in a Mario game. I played it for an hour just to try and calm myself down.
   That's not the story. That just tells you how awesome this game is. I've grown up around guns and am very comfortable around them. I don't live in the country, so only ever shot them a few times a year when camping or hunting or something, but I know how to handle them and how to be safe. In college I went shooting with my dad, sister and brother. I'd been playing Resident Evil for a few weeks. As soon as I had a little .22 rifle in my hand and I saw my brother a few yards away, I had this sudden urge. My brain screamed "shoot him!"
   Seriously.
   It only happened for a split second. It's not like it affected my actions at all, or was even close to happening. I felt sick about it, in fact. I wanted to throw up just for thinking it. Only recently have I thought about that moment and not felt sick to my stomach.

   Two stories about how playing some of these games can potentially effect your brain wiring. If you were to talk to a gamer about things like this, and if they were honest with you, I bet they'd tell you that little moments and thoughts like this happen. Obviously, being two well-adjusted, grounded-in-reality, having-good-parents kids like my friend and I, it's not a big deal. But put games like RE4, Call of Duty, and Grand Theft Auto in the hands of someone unstable, isolated and angry, and, I dunno, maybe that's not a good thing?


   I write this because I hear a lot of external talk about this issue. People who haven't played or don't understand video games have conversations about them. It occurred to me that video games are so stinking new, that it's not like the whole of society can relate to them in the same way. Playing a video game is different from watching a movie or television show. As my brother can attest, when I was young and Power Rangers came out, I would get more aggressive and violent after watching it. I wanted to do karate and kick things and he was my little putty (if you get that reference, well, you probably won't admit it). I never hurt him or actually kicked him, I just liked pretending I could do those things.
   In video games, there's less pretending. In the very realistic, immersive games, you start to think like and identify with the character you become. In a game like Grand Theft Auto, the first time you beat someone up and steal a car, you feel kind of gross. Then you remind yourself "they aren't real people," and you realize this game lets you do things you wouldn't do in real life, not just things that you couldn't do like fly a spaceship or break bricks with your head. That's a dangerous combination: things you wouldn't do in the real world, done in a world that feels real.
   I'm not an expert, so don't bother citing me anywhere, but I think it's worth knowing that these things can happen. My kid won't be playing anything violent at my house for a long, long time, that's for sure.

All that we really know about Santa is that he likes Coke.

   Oh Santa, what to do what to do. My wife and I had our first real conversation yesterday discussing what we'll tell our son about Santa. He's only 15 months old, so we didn't have to worry about it this year. For my part, I figure he'll hear the story and see enough movies on his own that we won't need to tell him the story, and we can put stuff in his stockings and under his tree from Santa, but it can just be a game and a story people like to have fun with during this time of year. If he ever asks, point blank, "Is Santa real?" I'll hedge a few times with "Well what do you think?" and if he presses, then I'll tell the truth. I'd like to lie to my children as little as possible.

   For me, that's not the Santa dilemma. For me, the Santa dilemma is coal.

   Does anyone ever get coal in their stockings? Does Santa ever actually tell anyone that they're a bad kid? I've never heard of that happening, not in "real life" and not in movies either. I can't remember if Tim Allen ever gave a kid some coal for being naughty, but I feel like it happened once?
   What a wasted opportunity! A parent with a bad kid, or a naughty kid, or a disobedient or defiant kid, could still give the kids presents from mom or dad, but if they withheld the presents from Santa, and put some coal in the kid's stocking, they could claim "we love you and gave you presents, but Santa didn't think you were a good boy this year." Has anyone ever done this!? They really should.
 
   So that gets me thinking about what makes a naughty kid bad or a nice kid good. Of course the parents could just decide if they were going to give a kid coal from Santa or not, but spoiler alert let's pretend like Santa is real. How does he decide who is good and who is not? There's basically two options:

1)  Half of the little boys and girls are good (nice) and half of the little boys and girls are not (naughty).

2) There is some point, or level, of "goodness" (niceness) that Santa expects us to strive for.

Option 1: half are good and half are not
There are so many flaws with this sort of reasoning. Most people that aren't in jail would probably call themselves good people. At least, most of the people that I associate with would call themselves good people. I am probably a bad example because most people I associate with are teachers or go to church or have a lot of societal norms that make them "good" people. But, is it fair that people who grow up in an environment that is more likely to produce "good" children are going to get presents while other kids are going to get coal? No. So, does Santa have some sort of a neighborhood/background/upbringing criteria that he follows? Only half the kids in my neighborhood are good, let's say.

Well, this would cause me, as a kid, to try to be very very good, but it could also lead to me, as a kid, wanting other kids to be bad. Or to be less good. That's not a good thing. Plus, it's not fair that a kid can't be judged as good or not without comparisons based on other kids. When you think about it, saying that only 50% of the kids are good means that only 50% of kids can be good. No matter what, half of all the world's kids can or cannot be good, and there will be some that are left out, even if they are trying.

Does trying not really matter then? Couldn't we all get organized and push the average level of goodness down, so we can have our bad fun but still get presents? There's lots of ways to manipulate such a system, it turns out.

One might counter with "Fine. Make it the top 25% who get presents, or the top 75% who get presents. This leads to all of the same issues that 50% had. So maybe Santa should just pick the percentage of kids that are good year-by-year? The percentage that falls on who was actually pretty good or not?

Ah, there we have option 2.

Option 2: There is some point, or level, of "goodness" that Santa expects us to strive for.
This is the one that really makes sense. None of those 50% issues come up here. So, the obvious question is "Where does Santa set that level?" It can't really be based on how relatively good one year is compared to the next, for all the reasons listed in Option 1. It has to be a fixed point of goodness.

Well, kids that steal and lie can't be good, right? But, every kid is going to steal some other kids candy or lie to get out of trouble or take someone else's turn with a toy. We can't expect them to be perfect little angels all the time. Does he set a limit of what can and can't be stolen? Or how many times we can steal and still be considered nice? There's probably some sliding scale like "you can take four of emily's turns at tetherball on recess or you can take one kid's lunch money" or some combination inbetween, right? I think that makes pretty good sense. Sure, it's extremely complicated and dense, but that's why Santa has magic and elves and stuff, right?

So then, the problem becomes "How are we to know what's good and what isn't? How can we tell if we are being good enough?" Well, with such a complicated system, we can't really check things off or try to match our past year with his goodness chart. So the game probably turns from trying to reach a certain level of goodness to just being as good as we can and hope that's good enough, right?

Now, I understand that Calvin and his trusty tiger had all of these discussions in a much simpler, more eloquent fashion (having a talking tiger makes these things easier). The way I see it, unless Santa has his level of "goodness" at Perfect, then he's allowing for any degree of badness. That can't be a good thing, right?

You probably know where I've been going with this for a while (and by "a while" I mean like pretty much way too long now), but this is a problem with God and Heaven that I don't think many people consider. If getting in to heaven requires being a "good person," most people would define their goodness as being "better than most." But, this system would send half the world to hell. Would the God of heaven only give half of the people a chance at Heaven? Or any percentage, wherever you set that benchmark?

So, make the requirements some level of goodness. But if that level of goodness isn't at Perfect, doesn't it allow for some amount of evil? Could I live a nearly-perfect life and then murder someone? If I am trying to do enough good just to allow myself some bad, am I really good? My goal is to balance enough good against my bad, meaning I really want to do bad, right? This is hard.

Merry Christmas. That's why Jesus came. He allows to be perfect by association. I don't think there are any good people out there. None at all, not by any sort of meaningful standard. I think Jesus was good because he was God, and he's the benchmark for goodness that we need, and he allows us to piggyback on his goodness. Now, you might not believe in Heaven or God or things like that, which is another conversation, but I was up last night thinking about Santa (who wasn't?) so we had this conversation. 

Thinking Out Loud

(note: I wrote this a couple of months ago, but didn't think I could post it until I was actually offered a job and some details were made public about position availability. So it's a bit dated, but here it is.)

     I work hard to not treat this blog solely like a livejournal, where I tell you about my day and my thoughts and put little smiley faces and giggles everywhere. : / However, I have found that a lot of my posts help me clear up my own thoughts on whatever I am talking about. So, that's what I will attempt to do here: get my thoughts in order. Hope you enjoy the process. :)

     I am a sucker for being needed. Even more so I am a sucker for being wanted. Put the two together and you can get me to do just about anything. This comes through primarily in my tutoring, I have found. Today I turned down my first client ever. Someone called needing help and I said I was too busy. The fact that I have not done this yet is a bit crazy, because in the past 9 months I have been getting called to tutor a lot. I just can't say no because these kids need me, want me, and pay me. Oh, I should add: money is another thing I am a big sucker for.

This is the plan for LCC's new downtown campus. I'd love to teach there. 

     So let me tell you about my life right now. I teach math at Lane Community College. Throughout the whole year, I don't teach full time. I probably average about 0.7 (where 1.0 is full time). There are terms where I am employed 0.9 and terms where I am 0.55, but I am almost never less than half-time. I really enjoy teaching at Lane, in fact I enjoy it more most every term. I have wonderful, flexible hours, I teach math to people that want to learn and know it's useful, I don't have to deal with minors and the headaches that come with that (calling home, taking attendance, confiscating cell phones, pretending I know who rappers are), and I don't have to grade too much.
     This term, for example, I teach two classes, which in this case is just under half-time. Those two classes happen back-to-back on Tuesdays and Thursdays. So I teach Tuesdays and Thursdays from 4:00 - 9:00. MWFSat and Sun I don't have an obligation to do any work, although there is always some grading and test writing to get done.
     My pharmacist wife usually works 4 days a week, for roughly 36 hours. Those days can be spread out or bunched up. Some weeks we'll have three days off together, some weeks we won't have a whole day together at all. Our schedules are very complimentary. We only need childcare for not-as-little Wyatt once every other week or so, unless my tutoring or substitute teaching get in the way.
     My life is very good.

It's like every picture of this town has a permanently gray sky! (South Eugene High School)

     Yesterday I subbed at South Eugene High School. There were two major developments from that day of subbing: 1) I literally fell over in my chair while in the front of the room. No one was watching, I leaned over to grab something on the floor and the chair came out from under me. I heard about it from every following class, along the lines of "so your the guy that fell over, right?"
     2) The principal and I ended up walking in the same direction for quite a while (South has famously long halls, rumored to be a quarter-mile long or something). He told me there is a chance there will be a temporary math posting next year, meaning I could teach math for part of the year. I taught math at South last year, also on a temporary contract, which was wonderful, but also didn't result in any long-term position.

     I loved teaching at South. The students are respectful and work hard, for the most part. Parents are involved. The curriculum is challenging. It's a very successful place. It's typically the best public school in the state and one of the best in the country. I was proud to have taught there. Part of the reason I still sub there is to keep a foot in the door.

     So, here's the thing: South wants me and South needs me. They have a lot of math teachers retiring in the very near future. They offer a course called BC Calculus that covers the entire college calculus series in about 7 months. The teacher of that course has been doing it for over a decade and wants to start handing the reigns to the next guy. As of now, I am the choice for the "next guy."
     My church meets at South Eugene HS as well. I'd love to be in a position where I can help both the school and the church in both directions with various things. If a door is locked on Sunday, I'd have a key! If the alarms weren't turned off, I'd know how to. If the school needs some help with Project X, I could go to church and say "hey let's work on Project X!" There are already people at church and at South that do all of these things, (the church and the school have a great relationship thus far) but one more couldn't hurt. Plus, I'd get to feel important, like I'm needed.
     Teaching at South strokes my ego. I am teaching math at the best school in the state. I go to a church that attends my school so I can look important and helpful in times of crisis. I am wanted by the staff and potentially needed by the students (although South would have no trouble getting their pick of math teachers when they post an opening).
      Teaching at Lane makes sense. The time commitment is smaller. The flexibility in the hours is fantastic. The schedule fits with my wife's. I get to be home more. They pay at Lane is comparable to the pay at South, while requiring less of my time present at the school. I can tutor more easily if I want to do that, but tutoring is wearing on me.
     Teaching at both isn't very feasible long term. I did it last year, but that was pre-baby. And it was also pretty awful for a while. If I was the only person affected by this decision, I would teach full time at South and teach a class every-other term at Lane. That way I can retire from South eventually and still have a good job at Lane with seniority to occupy some time. But, I have a wife that out-earns me, and the more I work the less she'll work. Or the more childcare we'd have to pay for.

Yes I am re-using this picture because it's awesome.

     Ultimately, I have to wait to see if a job is even available. I'd have to figure out what it pays and if it would lead to a permanent job in the future (not extremely likely as the school district continues to shrink and lose funding). But, the more I think (and write) about it, the more it becomes clear to me that staying at Lane makes the most sense for my family. I know at this point in time my wife agrees with me. And I know at this point in time Wyatt pretty much only thinks about eating whatever he can find on the floor.
     Thanks for listening! Any thoughts or comments are certainly welcome, though I don't know why you'd still be reading this far...

The Chronicles of Rehab: Better Than Others

     I DISLOCATED MY SHOULDER WHILE SKIING THREE YEARS AGO. I NEVER HAD SURGERY ON THE SHOULDER BECAUSE I WAS CHEAP AND I COULD LIVE WITH IT. IT WASN'T IMPACTING MY DAY TO DAY LIFE. THIS PAST AUGUST I TORE MY ACL. IT IMMEDIATELY IMPACTED MY DAY TO DAY LIFE. I DECIDED TO OPERATE ON BOTH, IN THE SAME INSURANCE YEAR, SO THAT I COULD "BUY ONE GET ONE FREE" FOR SURGERIES AND REHAB. THESE EXPERIENCES WILL LIKELY DOMINATE THIS BLOG FOR THE FORESEEABLE FUTURE.

(another side note: I really thought, upon creation, that this blog would be more funny than serious or philosophical, but all of my funny keeps getting absorbed by my other blog. Oh well.)

     My students at LCC this term have been treated to an instructor who has had two surgeries in two months. On the first day of class, I limped in on a knee immobilizer (but at least was off crutches), and last week I walked in with a hefty, all-business sling. One of my students made this blunt, astute comment regarding my surgeries: "That's a real shot to your manhood."

     It really has been.

     All told, I am going to lose about a year (and two summers) to these injuries. They keep me from being able to work around the house, exercise, and now I can't play with my baby like I used to. It's been humbling and frustrating, and for the first time in my life I think I've had little bouts of depression.

     (After my shoulder surgery, my main thought has been "I am so glad I did this," just because I can't wait to have a stable, trustworthy shoulder again. So don't put me on a suicide watch list or anything.)

     A lot of people have offered me consolation along the lines of "well, it could be worse" and "there are plenty of people worse off than you." I find myself thinking through the logic of those sentiments. It's odd - maybe "terrible" is a better word - that comfort can be found in comparing one's self to those less fortunate. It's just the human condition I assume. But those statements imply that there are a select few individuals that can't be consoled. No one has it worse. It couldn't be worse. Is that possible?

Job not Gob

     This is where the term "of Biblical proportions" has great meaning to me. The Bible is filled with stories of extremes. King Solomon had access to all earthly comforts and desires and wasn't satisfied, Jesus lived a perfect life and died for sin, Paul was the top Christian-killer before his conversion, I can't think of anyone with a better claim to revenge than young David against King Saul, and Job lost everything - land, livestock, family, health - yet still praised God. These extremes make our mundane lives comfortable and easy by comparison, which I think is among God's goals with scripture.

     Even without the story of Job, my plight is not terribly severe. I have a loving wife, healthy baby, warm house, good job with good insurance, a friend from church who's a skilled surgeon, and supportive friends and family surrounding me. But Job sure helps me find perspective.

     "It could be worse" bothers me less than "there are plenty of people worse off than you." I liken it to the following scenario: when I chat with someone that has a casual belief in God and Heaven, they invariably state that they think they'll go to heaven because they are a good person. When I ask what they mean by "a good person," their response is typically not about the good things they do, but the bad things they don't do. "I just know there are people a lot worse than me. I don't kill or steal or do things like that."

     If one stops and thinks about it, this is a crappy, dickish way to determine who gets into heaven. It'd only be half of all the people, right? The good half? That sucks. It means, by default, billions of people have no shot at heaven. What's worse, you are taking somebody's spot!! If you were a good person, should you give that spot to someone else?

     This doesn't seem fair. Shouldn't heaven be fair? Maybe it's not the top 50% who get in, but the top 70%. Or 90%. Whatever percentage we land on, we are going to have the same quota problem, where a certain number of people have to go to hell (or go to "not heaven," or even "not the best level of heaven" if you are that soft on Hitler and his ilk). That's no good. Curving a class only helps people above the curve, it actually dooms those beneath it. That's only fair if those people deserve to fail already. So we really can't base our heaven-going status on relative goodness.

     So a universal standard of goodness must be applied. I think we can all agree on major things, like don't murder or steal or abuse your kids. But as we get down to the nitty-gritty of that line of thinking, it becomes a huge disaster. What about the hungry who have to steal to eat? What about killing out of self defense? What about people born with a genetic disposition towards anger, or alcoholism? What if someone's dad beat them, making them much more likely to beat their kids? It turns out that things beyond our control - our parents, environment, fortune, location, era, health, etc. - probably have a greater impact on our "goodness" than we do. This also does not seem fair - that those privileged in this life are more likely to be privileged in the next.

The 99% aren't good. Neither is that 1%.

      One could claim that God would know who was and wasn't a good enough person. He can obviously account for all of those factors that I just mentioned and make a fair judgement. But there's still a logical flaw in this logic. One only has to be good enough. One could balance their good with choice bad, to their advantage. Maybe doing intentional, calculated bad means that one is truly a bad person, but then I think that would make all of us bad people (for what it's worth, I think we are). I can't see a getting-into-heaven-system that doesn't accommodate anything but constantly pursuing good.

     I moved quickly from "my shoulder hurts" to "there are no good people." That's just how my brain works. I test an idea by taking it to its logical extremes, both enormous and minute. I think God is a God of logic. In fact, I think "logical" might be the best way to describe him, above all other terms. I'd like to take this moment to clarify that "logical" does not mean "simple" or "scientific." I think a lot of people confuse those.

     I appreciate condolences about my surgeries and injuries. I know people are well-intending, even when they call me old and broken. Apart from this short span I am super healthy and relatively injury-free. I am extremely blessed, and not just because my life is better than most. I believe that all people have the potential to be blessed, because it's not only offered to the good. Because there are no good. It's offered to all who are willing to take it, and it's called Jesus Christ.

Manhood

     There's no rite of passage to becoming a man in modern culture. We don't kill a lion or walk across a volcano. If you're Jewish you become a man when you have your Bar Mitzvah, but I am not Jewish. There's not even a set age when manhood arrives. There are stepping stones, like being able to drive at 16, fight wars at 18, drink at 21 and rent cars at 25, but all of those things are more about adulthood than manhood. And adulthood isn't exciting, manhood is.
     There are several moments and decisions throughout my life that, when I reflect upon them, I can see how they've directly impacted who or where I am today. It's a fun little game to play, and I encourage you to see if you can think of any. I had a lot of time last night/this morning to think. Really, to do nothing but think. My baby was sick, for the first time, and not handling it well. He had a high fever, wouldn't sleep for more than five minutes at a time, and he wanted to be held. I held him, walked in a circle, and thought. From about 4:00 - 5:30, my goal was to last as long as I could holding him, hoping to give my wife some much needed rest.
     Currently, my left arm is in a sling and car bear very little weight. Holding a jar of peanut-butter causes my shoulder - which was recently operated on to fix and old dislocation - to have a decent amount of pain. I was holding Wyatt with one hand (luckily I am right handed) walking around in the dark, tired and in pain, trying to last as long as I can.
     I've done this before, I remembered. I did this the night I became a man.
     (I know that last phrase is often used to mean "when I lost my virginity," but that's not the case here. What a great moment you just ruined, thinking along those lines.)

Our very lucky, seldom killed prey.

     I was on my first hunting trip. I was twelve years old, and joined my dad, uncle, and dad's friend Pete. I hadn't done any hunter's safety training to get a license, so I couldn't carry a gun or shoot anything. Really, I decided last minute that I'd like to go. The family was in the car and dad was telling mom some details of the trip. I interrupted and said "Dad, can I go?" He was taken aback and said, "Well, yeah, sure, if you want to."
     He was taken aback because I had never shown any interest in hunting. Truth be told, I didn't really want to go hunting when I invited myself that day. I just knew that my dad would like it if I went. I often felt bad when I was young because I didn't like doing some of the things with my dad that he liked doing with his dad. Things like fixing cars and working in the garage and other man stuff. I didn't have video games at this time, so it's not like I was wasting my time in other areas (I played a lot of legos), I just didn't like to watch and not really know what's going on. When you're young and your dad is building something, you can't really participate. You can't measure and cut the wood and design the plans and pick materials. You just get to do things like passing a wrench or holding down one end of the wood or something. I told myself, back then, "When I am able to actually do this stuff, I'll enjoy it." I think I was a pretty smart kid, really.
     So, dad was going hunting and I was going to join. One day, I don't remember which, my uncle Roger shot a bull elk. I wasn't around for it. I didn't get to see the kill, be a part of the gutting/cleaning, or anything. In fact the rest of us waited and built a fire until Roger joined us with some meat, and then Pete and Roger went back to grab more. Eventually, the men strapped meat to their backs, we grabbed the elk's head, and started to walk to the trucks.
     It was late. So late it was early, in fact. Let's say it was 2:00 am by the time we were really heading back. The men all had enormous amounts of meat strapped to their packs, so heavy I couldn't remotely lift them. On top of that, we had a big elk's head to carry back. I looked around and saw that, literally, I wasn't carrying my own weight. They thought about giving me a small amount of meat to strap on, but it wasn't really working. So I volunteered to help carry the elk's head.

     This is not going to sound as epic as it felt. We walked a long ways in the dark and cold. It was probably 20 or 30 miles (okay, maybe 2). But for some reason, I don't know why, once we started I had a strong, clear desire: I was going to carry that head all the way to the truck. I was a small, twelve-year-old kid who had avoided real work his whole life. I could have gotten out of it. I could have helped for a while and then just followed along. But I felt the need to help. When we started, I could barely lift up my half of the head. The grip on the antlers was weird, the weight hung at an awkward angle, and I wasn't tall enough to let my arms drop - I had to bend at the elbow. The first thousand steps were hard.
     My feet were frozen, my arm was weak and hurting, I couldn't see, and I was tired. I almost quit several times. Then, at one point, I realized I am going to do this. It wasn't a proclamation of my determination, like "no matter what I will get this done," it was more of a realization of the reality. This is going to happen. I am going to do this. At that point, my arms stopped hurting, my feet warmed up, my legs had energy, and I had this newfound awareness. I was alert. I was going to do this.
     Looking back, at that moment I became a man.

     Carrying around a baby who's sick, with one arm in a sling and the other hurting, doesn't seem as intense. Especially in a warm house walking on carpet with couches always within five feet. But last night/this morning, my arms were hurting, I was exhausted, and I didn't know how long I would last. The baby was sleeping, and I needed that to last as long as it could. I remembered that I had done this before - tired, weak, carrying something for an unknown distance - under worse circumstances, and I could do it again. My pain went away, my energy returned, and I became aware again.   I was able to walk for as long as we needed to. Wyatt eventually woke up, his fever was gone and he smiled and played a bit. He was better. I am going to pretend that I did that.

     I'm sure there are all sorts of lessons and morals to pull out of this. I won't bother telling you what they are, as you've already suffered through me talking about myself at length and ad nausea. I'll just add that I had a ton of fun on the first - and all the following - hunting trips I've been on. I've never seen an animal I could legally shoot while hunting, but I've been able to skin and clean an elk, get lost and unlost in the woods, and experienced true adventure. I haven't been able to go hunting for nearly 10 years, due to school and always having a new teaching job (it's tough to take a week off at your new job in the first month, especially when you get breaks in the summers and winters and springs), but I am going to go back this year. I probably won't kill anything, but I'm sure I'll have a good time.

Change and Batman

     I am currently playing Batman: Arkham City. It is probably the greatest video game since Tetris. Between playing a Batman video game, avoiding previews for the new Batman movie and planning to head to Barnes and Noble to catch up on my Batman reading, I've got a lot of dark brooding on the brain.

     When I subbed last week, a student asked me who my favorite superhero is. When I replied with "Batman," he rolled his eyes and informed me that I had made a boring choice. I told him what I tell everyone who will listen:

     Batman is the only character that can change.

     Change is death in a serial story. Think about all of the sitcoms you have watched. When things start to really, fundamentally change, the show goes downhill. Chandler and Monica get married, House gets fired, Monk solves Trudy's murder. All shows that aren't meant to tell a finite story, but instead intend to last for as long as they possibly can, have to avoid change for as long as possible. If you want to have a sitcom that can last for 12 years, you need to have stable characters that new fans can jump in to and immediately understand what's going on. In my mind, The Big Bang Theory is the perfect example of this today. If you turned on a new episode, you'd get there are 4 nerds, one who is smarter than the rest, one who is Indian and shy, one who is Jewish and horny, and one who is trying to be sort of normal. There is a cute girl across the hall. Hi-jinks ensue.

     The Simpsons is the prime example. Lisa is the smartest person in Springfield and has been in grade school for over 20 years now. No matter how an episode ends, you know the next one is going to start with everything back to normal. The show can last as long as it has because nothing ever really changes.
     This is especially true for comic books. Spider-Man and Superman can't evolve and grow as characters. Why? Because they are supposed to appeal to kids, really. Kids aren't concerned with character growth or development, but with cool fight scenes and funny jokes. More importantly, if the characters change and grow, new fans can't adopt as easily. Comics are in a state of trying to balance their adult fans with finding new, young fans for their future. They do this by "rebooting" their comic lines every decade or so.
     So Superman is always going to fight Lex Luthor. Spider-Man will always have trouble balancing work, school and hero-ing. Things external to them can change - sometimes Lois and Clark are together or aren't and sometimes Spider-man can't make any webbing - but the characters themselves change little.

     This is not the case with Batman, and the world he inhabits. He's always mad and dark and essentially ageless. But, he changes. There have been periods where he is intensely paranoid, not trusting anyone not named Alfred. Sometimes he works to rehabilitate Two Face, while other times the beats he crap out of him. The Riddler turns from a villain to a Private Investigator, because he loves the puzzles. Gotham had a devastating, crippling earthquake. Currently, there are actually two Batman's (Batmen?) if I understand correctly. Bruce Wayne is Batmanning all over the world while the first Robin is Batmanning in Gotham. Change happens.

That Batman up there? That's the original Robin.
That Robin? Bruce Wayne's son. That's  what I call change.

     Part of why I am so fond of the Dark Knight is because of the complex nature of Bruce Wayne. But the main reason I can keep reading Batman is because there's a progression. He will become more and more obsessed with stopping crime, then something happens and he becomes more focused on using his resources as a billionaire to aid Gotham, and then he works to train those around him (like Robins and such) to be more effective.
     There are things that can't change. Bruce Wayne can't really age, because that means that an end is in sight. He can't reveal his identity, because then everything's fundamentally different. He can't really die. But, beyond the major, the sub-major is in flux.
     I haven't really read a new Batman comic in a couple of years. Borders bookstores closed (maybe I should have bought some of those comics?), a baby came, etc. Next chance I get I want to catch up. That's the point, though, I have stuff to learn. I can tell you right now that Spider-Man is struggling to balance his life and Superman is fighting some enormous ideal, because that's what they've been doing for my entire life. No change. The change is what makes Batman unique and worthwhile.

Sub Notes

     I don't sub too often anymore. Cara and I are busy enough with work and baby and playstation. Willamette high school was having three math teachers out last Friday and needed an advanced math sub, so I acquiesced. (big word!) A few notes from my recent subbing adventures:

     - I had a conversation with a student that I wish I could have with every student. He doesn't like math - and my guess is he doesn't like school. He said to another student "It's not like the world will end if I fail a math class."
     I was helping another student at this time, but luckily it's part of my job to eavesdrop. I turned around, looked at him, and said "You're right. The world won't end. But the world won't end if you study and pay attention in class either."
     Him: Why? What's the point of learning math? (I love this question).
     Me: What do you want to do when you grow up?
     Him: I don't know.
     Me: Exactly. You don't know what you want to do. So, we teach you everything. That way, when you do start to decide what you want to do, you have options.
     Him: But, what if I just want to work on a boat?
     Me: Great! Go join the Navy and work on a boat.
     Him: (he didn't like this idea) No, I mean like, some old fishing boat.
     Me: Great! If you want to work on an old fishing boat, go for it. But, my guess is you have never actually worked on a boat. What if you do it, and then find out that it's not what you want to do? What if you decide you would really like to design boats or build boats or do something entirely different. Wouldn't it be wise for you to not limit your options now? So that if you want to do something that's hard, or that everyone wants to do, like design video games, you are educated and equipped? You might not care about making a lot of money, and that's fine, but money is very nice to have. It's very nice to be able to take care of yourself and, maybe one day, your wife and family. Well, the best way to make money is with an education, and more specifically with and education in math and science. You're right: the world's not going to end if you fail this math class. But you might end up regretting it later on.
     Him: Huh.

     I don't know if I made any sort of difference in his life or future, but let's pretend like I did, okay? The other boy he was talking to was also paying pretty close attention, so maybe I got a 2-for-1 there.

     - The school wanted me to arrive around 7:30, for classes that start at 8:00. That's no problem. However, the school was on a block schedule and I didn't have a first period, so I didn't start teaching until 9:45. That's over two hours of me sitting by myself in an empty classroom!! Super frustrating. I took my Kindle and Ipod but was still painfully bored. Additionally, their wi-fi was password protected. So I started guessing. Willamette high school is in the Bethel school district, so I guessed variations on "Bethel," "Bethel School District," "BethelSD," "WillametteHigh," "Password" and "Wolverine." A student later told me the password was "B3thel." Dang it!!

     - I sing and hum very often. Especially when I am in the room by myself. Back when I was teaching high school, It was always weird for my TA's, or students that were taking tests, when it would just be me and him or her in a room and I would start singing. I think it's even more weird for students that I am subbing for. I'll walk around handing out papers or checking work, humming whatever song I heard last. I am fine with being the weird-guy-that-likes-math, though.

     - I was just terribly bored while subbing. Students did worksheets, classes were 90 minutes long, I wasn't needed for anything. There was one point where I was spinning on the stool in the front of the room, trying to make myself dizzy. (No, really!) While spinning, I heard a conversation out in the hall. A student had stepped out to talk to a friend. A school employee of some sort - like a campus monitor - was interrupting their conversation. I hear him say "Would you be doing this if your teacher was here?" and promply stopped and looked up. He was giving me a quizzical look. I am a good sub.

"The Universe" in Film and Television

Wow! The cold, mathematically governed universe has a plan for us!

     There's this trend in entertainment media to talk about "The Universe." "The Universe" will find you a soul mate, or the Universe will provide you with a job or the Universe will magically unite you with your estranged siblings or the Universe is generally looking out for you. The Universe seems to have a plan and you are a big part of it. The Universe has a capital first letter.
     I find this very disingenuous. Or maybe it's naive. I understand that television shows and movies don't want to talk about God. Atheists and agnostics are a growing population, and professing a belief in God is becoming increasingly dangerous in today's cultural climate. But ascribing some intention, or motive, or even understanding to the big ol' universe (or nature, as it were) is undeniably absurd. Either the universe is full of planets and stars and not any sort of all-encompassing consciousness, or there is a God of some sort who knows enough, cares enough, and is powerful to unite the sympathetic lead character with her mom.
     I've tried to figure out why this is the case. (Let's be clear: when I say "I tried to figure out" that doesn't mean I did any sort of research. I am a blogger for crying out loud. It means "I couldn't sleep one night and thought about it.)" Originally, my assumption was that the people involved in making shows and movies aren't personally religious. Statistically that is unlikely, but it wouldn't surprise me that there is a push to pull God out of entertainment. God has become a loaded idea, with a lot of hatred and judgement and violence attached to it. Avoiding everything that could come with a "war on terror" that is really a "war on militant Islamists" makes sense, from an economic and political standpoint. Additionally, when was the last time you saw a consistent, strong God-fearing character that wasn't a caricature or jihadist trying to thwart Jack Bauer? Tyler Perry tries to make them I guess, but none of the "media elite" take him or his work seriously. This dearth of characters that reflect a significant portion of the viewing population strikes me as forced.


     But I think there's more to it. Invoking a God invokes not only judgement and hate (which, by the way, isn't really how it has to be), but it invokes morality and values that the media doesn't like to portray. It's hard to have your lead character trying to find a soul mate and wanting some direction (or some hope that there's a plan), but simultaneously showing him trying to get laid, drunk, and/or high every episode. You might not attach any morality to these actions, but the "God" that most people believe in does. It's pretty self-defeating to ask God to bring you your soul mate so the two of you can have sex and see if there's anything there, when God intended for sex to be between a man and a wife.
     So how can these characters still have faith in a plan, or the idea of a "soul mate" (which requires having a soul, which requires God - we can discuss that if you'd like), or some sense of destiny, when the cold hard universe alone provides none of these provisions? We give the universe a capital letter and hope no one cares. Or notices.

An example of a typical Christian character.

     It's probably Christian's fault that God is being pulled from entertainment. Christians are increasingly known for wanting to punch gay children and attacking abortionists, but I don't think that picture is accurate. Maybe I just hope it isn't. When I think of Christian characters on television or in movies, they are hypocritical, shallow, judgmental, or naive. They are usually the source of humor or conflict, not the source of conflict resolution.

50/50. Worth watching.

     You know where this idea first struck me? Of course you don't so I will tell you. Cara and I were watching the movie 50/50, a Judd Apatow flick about a guy that has cancer. (Tangent: I find Apatow's work to be incredibly honest and realistic, which - more than his humor - is in my opinion why he's so popular. The only Christian character of his that I can recall is Lindsay Weir's former-best-friend on Freaks and Geeks - Millie - who was a sweet and well-intentioning girl, but was very naive and eventually needed to experience her own rebellion like Lindsay did. I can't think of a single other God-fearing character.) There's a really heartbreaking scene in 50/50 where Adam (who has cancer) is dropped off at the hospital by his friend Kyle, to have an important surgery. The car is parked, Adam is about to get out, and Kyle says something utterly forgettable. I have in fact forgotten it. It was something like "see you after" or "well, here you go" or something. It struck me as sad and depressing that these friends had nothing more to offer each other (and of course Kyle would have liked to be more encouraging or supportive, but what can he do? He doesn't believe in God, so invoking any sort of plan or destiny - even from "The Universe" would have been just as hollow as saying "let's split the parking costs").
     It's a moment that any God-fearing individual can optimistically, encouragingly say "I will pray for you." And anyone going into surgery can appreciate that sentiment of prayer, even if they don't think it will make a practical difference.
     (Is that what it's like for people that don't believe in God? They have nothing, not even a weird idea like prayer, to offer someone when they are about to undergo an event that no one has any control over? That honestly sounds awful.)
     The movie has this depressing, stark reality that Adam has no hope. He's a classically Apatowian post-adolescent male with no apparent drive or ambition or conviction about life. He lives alone and dates a pretty awful girl. His friend uses his cancer to get them laid and get them weed. He's not in contact with his parents, for what he thinks are noble reasons (trying to avoid spoilers here because the movie is worth seeing), and even his psychologist is over-matched with him as a case. There is absolutely no hope, and there is absolutely no mention of The Universe or God or destiny or anything. Of course a character and setting like this can't exist on a sitcom or any sort of comedy - there's just no way an audience can keep watching the depressing world unfold.
     So, if Apatow's honest and consistent portrayal of a world full of death, sickness, loss, heartache and not God is accurate, but a show doesn't want to invoke God, they call forth on The Universe. Let the universe provide hope and a plan, while not judging the sex and the drugs.
     You get the point. I need to get ready for work. Let's sum things up by saying that I find this trend of calling upon "The Universe" to be fundamentally inconsistent, and that bothers me.

Time-Sensitive Prayers

Obligatory poster for a discussion on time travel... check.

     A while back some Chinese dudes informed us that it is not possible to travel back in time; the math doesn't add up. According to them, it might be possible to go forwards in time, but definitely not backwards (the article I link seems to think differently). I have known this for a long time, though, by this simple logic: If it was possible to travel back in time, then someone would have traveled back in time already. We'd know. He'd show up and say "Hey guys! It's possible! I did it! I traveled as far back in time as I felt safe, just so I could tell you that, hey! It's possible! It turns out all you have to do is have two video cameras recording each other as they record each other, and maybe a solar flare or something! Don't let McDonald's do that pink sludge thing they did-or-will-do for a while!!"
     I understand that logic isn't foolproof, but I think it's pretty close. I do have this one nagging question, though:

     Can prayer travel back in time?

     Do you ever tell someone you'll pray for them, and then forget about it? I have done this several times. One time I had a friend going in for surgery. I told him I'd pray for him during the surgery. I did not. I was probably doing something important like saving Princess Peach or not grading papers at the time. When I remembered that my friend was having surgery, it was like 4 hours after his surgery. I panicked. What do I do?
     Well, I prayed for him. "Dear God I hope his surgery went well."
     Then I thought about that prayer. "Dear God I hope his surgery went well." Besides the fact that it was pretty thin and almost selfish, it had one big problem: It was past tense. I was praying for something that already happened, hoping it happened in a certain way. Was that remotely valid? Did it accomplish anything? Was God laughing at me?
     I guess when I see someone who just came back from vacation, I say "I hope the weather was nice" or "I hope you had a good time." Those are sincere feelings and expressions. But at the same time, I am not trying to impact or change anything about their trip, I'm just expressing that I am pulling for them. Whereas, when I pray for someone's surgery, or job interview, or, I dunno, root canal, to go well, I believe at some level that prayer can actually make a difference in the events that unfold. That is fundamentally different from hoping that the sun was out yesterday.

     So I continued to think about that specific prayer, and prayer in general. Prayer is weird and I don't really get it. If I ask for something, often, and for the right reasons, in the right way, I might get what I ask for? If praying about something causes that thing to happen - and let's pretend that if I hadn't prayed for that thing than it wouldn't have happened - does that mean that prayer can change God's mind? Can God change his mind? Are there things of less consequence that God can decide on at the moment, while others are pretty set in stone?

     (In my opinion, for those last three questions: yes, yes and yes)

     So, say that Joe had a successful surgery. It was successful because so many wonderful, handsome people like myself were praying for him. Except I prayed for him after the fact. But God knew that I would pray for him, so Joe met his prayer quota. So God had the surgery go well at the last second. Whew! Good thing I still prayed even though I thought it was too late, huh!
     No, not a good thing. If I were to pray, today, that 9-11 never happened, it would still have happened. Or if I were to pray that I had never dislocated my shoulder, to grab a much smaller and more reasonable example, it still would have happened. In effect (while dealing with this "Joe" hypothetical), me praying for Joe's surgery didn't change the outcome of his surgery, the outcome of Joe's surgery dictated that I would pray for his surgery!! Don't you see! If God were to make a decision, based on a prayer that I had yet to make, He was really forcing me down a path that I would pray my prayers! What!? No free will!? I don't like that.
     Now, maybe I would have prayed anyways, and sure He could have known that, and thus counted the prayers for that surgery throughout time, but then shouldn't we just devote ourselves to praying for all things past, present, future, but especially in the past?
     What happens if I pray "God I pray I don't pray this prayer." ??

     Conclusion: My prayers cannot go back in time.

     That is okay, because I think the essence of prayer is the heart, and God knows my heart was with Joe, at some pathetically incompetent and selfish level. So even though I didn't pray for his surgery, God might have counted it anyways. Or He might not have cared.

     For what it's worth, I don't think God is looking for a prayer quota, or the right words or conditions for Him to agree to things we ask for. I think it's primarily a method for getting us to talk with Him. I think He just likes having us invite Him in our life. Like when my parents allowed me to be dead broke and starving hungry throughout college; they knew it would bring me home to ask for food and eat dinner, and they were still at point that they liked having me around. (They didn't think I was aware of this sordid little plot but I was.)

     So we cannot go back in time, and our prayers probably can't either. This is undoubtedly a good thing.

    Also, for what it's worth (FWIW as the kids say): I now, whenever I tell someone I will pray for them, pray for them right then. Like, as we are talking I think "Dear God I pray for that thing I just said I'd pray for."
    On a related note, I am not as good of a prarer as I used to be. (Isn't it weird how sometimes we say "pray-yer" and sometimes we say "prare?") So, I guess it's not surprising that I have to resort to praying for someone immediately, and in such a wanting fashion as "I pray for what I just said," but I'll get it back.

How To Be A Fantastic Facebooker

I use this picture for lots of things (obviously, look around). It epitomizes what I want you to think about me: relaxed, adventurous, hammock-owning, water-loving, hat-wearing. Etc. 

     I start off a lot of my blog posts with a lie. A statement along the lines of "All of you ask me all the time, how are you so great at knitting?!" and then I dive into my blog post on knitting. Of course no one has ever actually said anything like that to me.

     This one, however is not a lie. I have had a fair amount of people comment that I am a great facebooker. A friend recently told me that, by commenting on her status update, I had validated her status. Another friend, who I consider a terrific facebooker, once told me he reads everything I put on the book (Wow! What a great feeling. This must be what it feels like when you are following someone on twitter and they follow you back!!).

     I tell you this not (entirely) to boast, but to establish my credentials: I am a good facebooker. You can be a good facebooker too. Follow these important rules:

     1) This is the most important facebook rule of all time. NEVER EVER EVER POST SOLELY ABOUT THE WEATHER. Is it snowing outside? Everyone knows. Everyone else is posting about the snow. The cool kids don't have time to post about the snow because they are out playing in the snow. You look like an idiot. You can post about something you are doing in the weather. If it is sunny out, and the sun inspired you to write a classic rock song, awesome. Tell the world. If the sun is out and that is the entirety of your day, make something up.

     2) You are allowed to be too cool for punctuation. No one is too cool for proper spelling. This isn't twitter. You don't have a tight character limit, you have a keyboard or a smartphone, take the time to re-read your post. If you misspelled a word, that becomes the focus of your post instead of what a great time you had with the grils last night! Wooo! It's not worth it.

     3) Post things that make you look like a loser as well as things that make you look awesome. Too much of either is very transparent. We all know you have a lot of loser in you (how do we know this, you might ask? Because you have a facebook and you check it.) So your profile picture can be you on top of a mountain or in hawaii or something, but you can also explain that you are afraid to dive head-first into water. Find the balance.

    4) Don't use facebook primarily to promote your band or your blog or you art or your photography. Sure, let it seep through, because it's who you are, but when you turn the book into your personal advertising platform, your "friends" start to think they are your "demographic" and will unsubscribe.

     5) In general, don't "share" links often. Instead, go to the source, copy and paste the link and place it as your status update. People will think you found it on your own, and for some reason they think that's cool. I stumbled onto this recently. In the picture above, a friend (and sucker) credited me for sharing something "first," when really I originally saw this video on someone else's page. (Also, the video is really worth watching if you haven't already). This ties in with the next one:

     6) Don't participate in a meme unless you personally started that meme. It's just too risky. Those things have a shelf life of about 42 minutes before everyone realizes it's about to be cool to be sick of them.

     7) I will never judge anybody for the games they play. If you want to Farmville, feel free to Farmville away. But for the love of my feed do not have the game you play send me requests and invites. I don't care how many baby cows you raised today or that if I click a link I can earn you 5 gold coins. I don't care. No one cares.

     8) Limit your status updates. Maybe one or two a day. And take a day off frequently. You need to have people clamoring for more. I am constantly in a state of trying to decide which status update to post (as I always have like five floating around my brain. That's normal, right?), because some are time-sensitive and some are gold whenever. The above Coscto post? I've wanted to share it for months. (I've really been crushing it there for months, to be honest). I've let some gold updates fall through the cracks, just because I don't want to overwhelm the world.

     I'll be the first to admit that when Wyatt was born I was facebooking like crazy. Had to tone it down. It'll happen.

     9)  Comment rarely. The stuff you have to say is not very profound or important. It's just not. If you only say your unprofound thoughts rarely, they might seem a bit more important. I struggle with this one. I can't tell you how many times I have typed something and promptly deleted it. If a comment survives you thinking it over, it's worth commenting.

     10)  Follow facebook etiquette. There are a few basic rules:
            - If your post or comment is one sentence, you don't need to punctuate. If it is more, general grammar rules apply.
            - Know when to post to someone's wall and when to send them a message. If you want the world to see it, send it to their wall. If you are saying "let's hang out" or "how you doin?" then make it a message. Otherwise you look desperate.
            - If one person you know is in a conversation that comes up on your feed, and you are not a part of the conversation but want to be, check who first started the topic. If you know that person, feel free to chime in. If not, take a moment to introduce yourself and then chime in.
            - Just stop and think about who and what you are tagging before you tag it, okay?

     You see, having a facebook is all about projecting the illusion that you have a life, and important thoughts and ideas. You do have a life and important ideas, but your life and ideas aren't that cool or unique. You are not LeBron James or Mel Gibson. You certainly aren't Daniel Tosh. (In fact, since you are still reading this I can pretty safely assume you are my mom, or at least related to me. Hi mom and/or aunts!!). The illusion of cool can come from some simple, tactful facebook techniques. It's simply about supply and creating demand. If you limit the supply, over time people will find your facebooking more valuable and gravitate towards it more. Thus, you seem cool when in fact we are not.

     Not at all.

Anti-April

I have two questions: 1) Is this what spring is like in the rest of the world?
2) Could I get any lazier with the photos I grab off google?

     April is my least favorite month.

     It is the longest teaching month, in my opinion, because there are no holidays. Students start to get antsy for summer, but it is still to far away to really look forward to. Days get long, but it's still raining and gray out. I feel like April is one big, long holding pattern before summer really starts to roll around. I am glad it is only 30 days. I am glad it is almost half over.
     When you live in a place that gets one big burst of sun from June till the end of October in a good year, and from late July until early September in a bad year, you learn to really cherish the sunshine and warmth. Missing out on sunshine is a particularly devastating feeling, as I've mentioned before. That's part of why I became a teacher, so that I could have my summers off (as well as all of that stuff about raising the next generation and helping people with stuff and stuff). When April rolls around and you can see some sun and blue sky, but know it rarely lasts for more than 20 minutes at a time, it's a particularly tough tease to deal with.

     So today, with Cara at work all day, Wyatt scooting all over the floor entertaining himself, and me stuck trying to get some work done in a messy house, I found myself feeling nostalgic. I usually get nostalgic when the weather gets warmer. A few nights ago I tutored a college student on U of O campus. It was a warm spring night, just after a rain. It smelled great. There was energy on campus. People were young and having fun. I walked right by my old college house. I thought of all the nights where I started having fun at 10 pm, playing disc golf, or riding to a friend's house, or just riding along the bike path. College was fun, and it's over.

The view out my back yard this morning. At least there is one pretty
flowering bush. And the moss on that apple tree is coming in nicely. Do you notice how the sky blends in perfectly with the background of the blog? Wow. Long caption.

     I tutored some high school students as well. I don't miss high school much, but I had so much fun in those summers. Swimming and biking and playing and sleeping in and working late and counseling. I love summers. Will I ever get another one? I haven't had a great summer in a long, long time. I've been stuck in different towns without adventure friends and without cars. I've had to teach in the middle of the day, four days a week. I've had torn acl's keeping me on couches. I've camped maybe four times and rafted maybe two rivers in the past 5 summers. I used to call that July. The threat of not being able to play for another summer is looming, and depressing.

     I used to hate change. When I was young I made my best friends every summer counseling at camp. They were older and usually went of to college come September. The last week or two of camp even had that different feel, where we had to get fill-in counselors to make up for the college students who left, or the athletes who had daily doubles in August. On the last day of camp I wouldn't see them ever again. It saddened me.
     I've gotten over that loathing of change, though. I truly believe that the next stage of life is better than the last one if you let it be. Still, the lack of permanence in life is unsettling. Friends get jobs and move away. Wyatt will one day go to college, and he might not come back. It's at times like this that I find the comfort of a loving God and everlasting savior to be of immense importance. I take great comfort in knowing that one day I will be with Him and those I love forever. I just have to get through this life, really.

     Change is good when we go from April to August. Change is bad when October moves to January. But I can't try to live in a way where I only accept the good and the bad, I need to just make the best of the bad when it comes along. It turns out, that's easy to do when I have a beautiful wife, healthy baby, warm house and loving God.