Filed under: Uncategorized
Guys that look like this:
See also: Crappy, rat-infested apartments with wide-screen plasma televisions, and people who pay their cell-phone bill first and worry about money for food later.
Filed under: Daily Thoughts
Patriotism — love for or devotion for one’s own country. (Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary)
Usually, this subject is one that I try hard to avoid. It’s mostly due to the fact that in most cases, when I talk to someone about it, I end up thoroughly embarrassed–a feeling that from there, quickly turns to shame and silence. You see, I am not able to be patriotic…
I remember (with horrific detail) a conversation I had last year with a buddy of mine at Belmont during a particularly rainy day outside. He asked me whether or not, in a time of war, I would go and fight for the U.S. if I was called upon to do so. I couldn’t find it within myself to say I would. He shook his head at me in disgust. Feeling dishonorable in all regards, I remember picturing Uncle Sam walking up to me, spitting in my face, calling me a sissy, and pushing me into the mud.
I also remember being made to stand up, lay my hand on my heart, and say the pledge of allegiance every school morning for the first 18 years of my life. Sometimes, very secretly, I would feel strangled, terrified, suffocated. Some days I would only mouth the words, too afraid to use my voice. I didn’t want to pledge my allegiance to a nylon flag waving in the English Literature classroom every morning.
Now please don’t get me wrong–I certainly didn’t choose to be this way. There isn’t any sort of problem with my attitude or my upbringing (not in this subject, anyway). I, like many other people, just feel an inclination to place my allegiance in a different sort of place.
I can almost imagine Wormwood reading a letter from his uncle about such a topic:
My dear Wormwood,
It has come to my knowledge that your patient has recently become much too thankful concerning the place in which he lives. You realize, of course, that thankfulness is another weapon the Enemy uses against us, and must be perverted immediately.
This can be done simply enough–draw him to one of two extremes: ungratefulness or patriotism.
First, you may try to pull him towards the side of ungratefulness, but know that it is the more difficult option of the two. Start by calling to mind all the injustices of war–make him remember warriors like Napoleon and Custer, even if they weren’t born in his own country. Then, make him remember the Crusades and the faults of his own kind. By emphasizing these things, you cause him in his heart to separate himself from his country, hopefully calling his thankfulness into question as well.
Now listen carefully–this is a dangerous spot to keep him; you mustn’t let him dwell there long! Quickly turn his doubts to bitterness. Make every crack in the foundation of his ancestry a canyon to him, and soon he will only ever be thinking about how terrible life is in his homeland, and how he wishes he could live some place else. This is covetousness at its very best, my friend! It will prove a very powerful and lingering distraction.
Perhaps even more lingering however, (and like I said before, easier) is the blindness of patriotism.
Here is the main difference: in the first option, to induce ungratefulness, you target his thankfulness. Here, in order to invoke patriotism you must target his pride. (I’m sure you are aware of such things already, but please make certain to differentiate between thankfulness and pride here. Both are used as very different tools by the Enemy, and though they are useful to His campaign, you must remember that they are always susceptible to corruption!) The next and probably most important step is to entangle him with his country’s politics. Prod him to be overly active in such things. Find him a good politician to support with many of his resources (or better yet, oppose). By doing this, you provoke the patient to swallow your hook–then you must set it.
Soon, whether he realizes it or not, he should start to feel a certain “belonging” to his country. Encourage this! I cannot over-emphasize that point! If the politician he supports works in ways he agrees with, have him say, “This is the best thing to happen to our nation.” If the politician he opposes begins to pull ahead in the polls, let him be heard saying, “Our nation deserves better.” Encourage him to pledge himself to his country as much as possible, even if the pledges only come out half-hearted (a man’s lips are the back door to his mind). Have him join a political group with like-minded people. Annoy him with news of opposing groups and goad him to leave resentful messages about his outrage on his Facebook status. Then, when the politician he opposes wins the vote, you will know when he says, “I should surely move if I wasn’t so attached to this place,” that the hook is set, and you may reel him in. This way, both his pride and his thankfulness are captured, and the patient can no longer think about dwelling with the Enemy as he is overwhelmingly focused on dwelling properly in his own country on the Earth.
Now listen even closer, nephew, because here is where pride beats unthankfulness in all circumstances. Once you have cultivated his patriotism, pair it with his faith. I know this no doubt as sounds ridiculous to you as it does to me–after all, those two things are quite opposites when a man has faith in one place and patriotism in another! However, a surprisingly substantial amount of the humans surrounding your patient pair these two things up as if they were high school sweethearts waiting to be married. How blind are they! You must encourage this also. If he associates patriotism as a companion to faith, the latter being, in his mind, always good and necessary in his own life, why should he ever consider divorcing them? Then, patriotism will become second nature to him, leaving his mind (himself unknowing) split between wanting two different things. That’s when you must begin to bend his faith down the path his patriotism took. But that’s another lesson altogether; I will wait to advise you once I hear news of the course you choose to take for the time being. Be swift and cunning, young one!
Your affectionate uncle,
Screwtape
Filed under: Daily Thoughts
To one day have a child that has what it takes to be a member of the Mysterious Benedict Society.
I know this sounds like a pretty weird goal, but hear me out–
There’s this new series of children’s books coming out. They’re called The Mysterious Benedict Society. So far, just the first two books have been written (the third is to be released this Fall) and they are completely, mind-blowingly amazing.
First off, if you are like me, then you might have read a little bit of Lemony Snicket. You also might have been somewhat upset/disappointed in the lack-luster end to the series and the overall feeling of doom and depression. The Mysterious Benedict Society by Trenton Lee Stewart takes all the things you didn’t like about Lemony and creates his own masterpiece staring children in much the same light–showing the world all the folly in underestimating them.
To be brief, the story revolves around four very young people who, after a series of rather peculiar auditions, find themselves inducted into a very mysterious society in which they must face great danger in order to save the world. Each member of the society was chosen for a different reason, and each must use their own unique abilities to solve mysteries, uncover clues, and stop bad-guys. It’s funny, it makes you think, it’s…it’s…utterly amazing.
But seriously, this series is quickly climbing up the “Blake’s Top Kick-Butt Favorite Series” list and settling in somewhere in at least the top five. I think Stewart has an amazing insight into so many different topics, including friendship, morality, logic, and the human mind and human behavior in general.
Yup. So go read it.
Filed under: Dream Journal
- 12:30 -
I can’t remember much about how the dream started off, but what essentially happened was that I was minding my own business when I fell down a laundry chute and found myself in another world.
This world I ended up in was a little bit more wild than good ol’ Earth, having all sorts of different trees, bushes, rock formations, flowers, all of which were completely foreign, sharing no relation to the plants we know. So I wander around for a bit and come across some other kids. One, and older boy, was my age, and he had a little brother and sister. They said that they were lost here as well.
So together, we started making our way through this forest full of really weird stuff, lke giant colorful mushrooms and strange animal noises.
Finally, we make it to this sort of big shelter tucked away in a gorge. Once inside, we find it empty (or so we think. It was a big place and we didn’t have time to search it completely). The youngest boy finds this book on a table in this sort of sanctuary at the front of the building and picks it up. Immediately another boy, maybe just a little younger than me, steps into the room and tells the kid not to touch the book, but it was too late.
This new kid’s name was Grant, and he was sort of like a Ben from Lost kind of character, where it was apparent he knew a lot of things about our situation but wasn’t willing to share. Naturally, we were frustrated with him practically the whole time.
Grant told the boy that he was now sort of “bound” to the book. He was responsible for its “well-being”, for it was a special book and anything that happened to it happened to the boy, too.
When I asked him how to get home, he said that it was complicated. He said that at the very core of things, every world was connected. He told us that instead of picturing the universe as a huge mass extending in all directions, we should picture it more as a huge room, with every world resting on the floor in different places. There were entrances and exits to every world–the trick was just finding them.
So we set off with Grant, who apparently knew where one of the exits was to this particular world. It was a cave, and when we walked far enough into it, we could see nothing but darkness. I began to have my doubts about Grant’s story. But he said that in between worlds is only darkness, and there were paths made. People who had found these placed before us, he said, had spent a lot of time wandering through the darkness before finding another world, and when they did, they left a path. We were wondering how we were supposed to see a path when we bumped into some wire and string. “That’s the path,” he said, and we understood.
Feeling our way along the strings and wires and other things (I remember there was also caution tape), we made our way through the darkness and eventually came out out through a locker in a locker room. When we left the locker room, we were high up in the bleachers in a huge gymnasium. Down on the gym floor, there were people in dance crews have dance competitions. When I looked closer, I thought I recognized some of the dancers as different people I’d played sports against in high school (namely Trinidad and LaJunta). Then, as I scanned the bleachers for the crowd, I saw all the guys from the Big R baseball team I’d played on all my life (including Clay). I went over to them and started to talk.
Now, something weird about this world that we came to was that it made you feel like you belonged there–it made you cease to care about any other place at all. Soon, I had no incling whatsoever to return to my own world, or to bring back my friends (who obviously belonged there, too). However, the little girl who I’d met at the previous world kept her head on straight and convinced me that we should leave. I convinced the team, and we made our way back out of the world from the same place we came, taking different strings this time.
Those strings led us to a really futuristic world, where the sky was all gray and machines with blue and red and other colored lights rose up all around us. I can’t remember much of what happened here, but I do remember that Grant, the three siblings, and I were separated from the team, and we dove into this crack in the ground to escape something that was pursuing us.
The crack gave way to a sort of tunnel that we slid down for a long time.
I was the first one to emerge, popping out of a big drain at a train station. The drain spat me out right in front of the tracks, and I had to keep my balance to keep from falling in and getting hit by an oncoming train. I spun around and saw Old Ben, the clocktower, and knew I was back in London. The drain spit Grant out, and I stood between him and the tracks, making sure he didn’t fall in. The little girl came out next, and right after her, the younger brother with the book. I caught the girl, but the boy excaped my grip and went flying over the edge and onto the ground. He hadn’t landed on the tracks, however, so I didn’t worry about him right away. I caught the older brother as he came out and then all of us went down to check on the boy. (except Grant, who remained on the platform) When we got there, we saw the book in pieces, having fallen completely apart with the impact. We knew the boy was dead.
Then suddenly, Grant began to scream and cry and ran down to us. “The book was mine!” he yelled. “I was bound to it, not him!” He was pleading to some higher power to take him instead.
Grant gathered up the book pieces, and threw them back down again. Instantly, he collapsed, and the boy regained consciousness. Aaaaand I woke up.
Filed under: Daily Thoughts
To be an actor in one of the Star Trek films.
So I saw Star Trek this weekend. Despite having never seen even a glimpse of the old show, I have to say that I absolutely loved the movie.
At the ticket counter, I have to admit admit I was a bit skeptical. After watching some trailers, I had come to the conclusion that if I tried to enter the Star Trek world at this point in time, I would find myself in way over my head, having no previous knowledge of any of the characters or chain of events, and therefore wouldn’t enjoy it whatsoever. Plus, I couldn’t even begin to picture Zachary Quinto as anyone by Sylar. Or John Cho as anyone but Harold from Harold and Kumar.
How very wrong I was. As it turns out, this movie begins a new reality in the Star Wars world. Without giving too much away, it clears the slate completely, setting up a new timeline upon which a whole plethora of new events are possible. Quinto, in my newly formed opinion, makes a better Spock than he does a Syler, and Cho also does an excellent job as Mr. Sulu. What’s more, Leonard Nimoy, the Spock from the origional series, makes a return to play a very significant role in the script.
And from what I’ve read in a few places, they’ve got a lot more Star Trek in store for the world. Supposedly, they’ve begun planning on the 12th already! If they’re anything as good as the one I saw this weekend, I’m gonna be in one someday.
Filed under: Daily Thoughts
For anyone who doesn’t already know, I’m a huge nature buff. Trees, lakes, oceans, mountains, I dig it all.
This weekend Ash and I spent most of our time with the dogs at Edwin Warner Park and took advantage of the nice weather, grabbing some long-needed fresh air. We did a lot of hiking through the trails, and running through the creeks throwing Frisbees–it was great! Despite all the commotion, though, it was good to immerse myself in a bit of creation again (albeit city-encompassed, protected, marked-trailed, occasionally-paved-roaded creation). 
I have to say, though, that the feeling of the Appalachians are much different from the Colorado country I’m from.
Over in the Rockies, the air is crisp–the landscape is fierce and juvenile, as if it takes its hikes and adventures with you and discovers more about the world as you discover it yourself. The atmosphere is open, tough, powerful. When standing on the top of Pike’s Peak, it’s not uncommon to consider at that moment the immensity and dominion of God.
Here, along the Appalachian trails, however, the Earth feels ancient. Everything about the place is old and gentle and intimate–quite the opposite of everything I had experienced at home. The air has that musky quality to it that immediately presents to me an arbitrary picture of a grandparent’s home with floral couches, knitting needles, wood paneling, and grandfather clocks. It’s in the way the rocks lay, the way the trees grow and the rivers color their waters. To be honest, it made me very uncomfortable this past weekend.
I think it’s because in Colorado (or similar places) I could stand proud and look out upon a great view of the world and say, “This is what God is like.” As if I had it figured out. The truth is, I was “partly in the right and wholly in the wrong.” God is probably fierce and powerful like the Rockies, but He’s probably not only that. He’s also gentle, intimate, and of course, very very old (if age can indeed be a characteristic applied to God). And he’s most definitely a lot of other things, too, which I’m sure are displayed elsewhere in His Creation.
All said and done, I definitely need to take some trips. Anyone up for the rain forest?
Filed under: Daily Thoughts
It is the weekend (yes). Not only that, it’s one of those rare Fridays that somehow feels like a Monday, leaving me with this abundance of work ethic to start the weekend off with. (double yes). Hopefully I’ll be off to new and creative things come morning–and after an extremely stressful week, I think it might be just what I need.
Now on to my three main orders of business:
1. Troy, Ash and I have heard some very nasty things about some circumstances at home, and I can’t help feeling a bit sick about it. (I mean, literally, physically, sick) I don’t know the whole story, and I don’t plan on divulging what I know on here, but I can say with the knowledge I do have that whatever the case was–whoever is telling the truth–that it was wrong. There was an injustice done, and it’s definitely going to eat at me for a while… anyway… without getting too angry and choked up right now, I will say finally that although I’m not the one who decides what justice is (thank God), I do trust that justice will play it’s part in that mess. And I’m terribly sorry for the ones who were hurt.
Ahem.
2. Okay–onto my next dilemma–the dreaded minor.
Right now at Belmont I’m majoring in Songwriting and minoring in Youth Ministry, although I haven’t really started taking my minor requirements yet. For the past month or so, I’ve been considering changing my minor to Writing. Yup… just plain writing. You see, my third year writing professor took a real liking to me after reading some of my papers, and on the bottom of every one she gives back to me, she writes “You have a gift! Don’t waste your talent–talk to Dr. Stover (the woman in charge of the writing major)!” So I did talk to her, and now I’m very seriously considering doing it. Any suggestions?
It’s sort of comical that this is happening to me, as it has already happened to Wendell in “A Walk Under Trees” and will play out much the same way (foreshadowing (sort of)).
Which leads me to my final point!
3. I’m almost done! After a year and a half of writing on “A Walk Under Trees” I am about 4 chapters from completing it. Whew. As much as I’d like to breath a sigh of relief, though, I realize that after I’m done I’m going to have to go back and rewrite/edit a bunch of things. My writing style has evolved and improved a lot since I first started, and it’s going to take a lot of work to get it all uniform. So I’m taking down all chapters on this blog and will probably not post them again.
After I’m done with Wendell I’m moving on to a farm boy named David. I’ve already got A FEW books planned out for him and his secret-littered family. I got a few new moleskines today for when the time finally comes.
So now off to the weekend – it’s gonna be a good one, I can feel it.
Filed under: Daily Thoughts
…are the bane of my existence. It’s like giving an abstract artist a picture and telling them to trace and color it exactly how they see it. It’s not creation. It’s regurgitation, and I think I’m about to be sick.
Filed under: Daily Thoughts
So… I finished it. And then I went and got the movie and watched it, too. This is going to be one of those stories that screws me up for a while.
My thoughts of Chris McCandless right now are constantly shifting back and forth, on a balance between what I consider noble and foolish, although I don’t believe he intended to appear as either of those. I wonder if he would be surprised at all the publicity he’s gotten over the years. I’m sure he probably would.
I see a lot of Chris in myself. His ideals, his tendencies, his dreams and aspirations, and his eccentricities. I feel honored, ashamed, and scared to death all at the same time. I still can’t figure that guy out! Regardless of what I think, though, I do believe that he died happy, having lived the way he wanted to. It’s tragic, yes, but I do realize that there are others out there like me, trying to wrap around our minds around these ideals and principles that Chris died for, and of course, we would never be doing so had he not indeed met his end. I think that he probably wanted, after his adventures were over, to write some book about them–to make his experiences known to the public in order to inspire thousands. I think if he were somehow alive right now, he might find those wishes fulfilled.
Well, enough about this… I’m digging at some feeling I think only time can sort out. And maybe a few strums of the guitar Whatever you think about Chris McCandless, I’d love to hear it.
Filed under: Daily Thoughts
I’m sure you’ve probably heard of this book. It was made into a movie in ‘07. It’s about a young college graduate, Chris McCandless, who divorced himself from his well-off family, gave away all his savings to charity, traveled as a hitch-hiker for a couple years, went up to Alaska in an attempt to live off the land a little under prepared, and died a few months later.
Of course, I’d been hearing a lot about it for a long time, especially since the movie came out. Some friends I have consider him a hero or a martyr. Others think he’s extremely reckless and idiotic. Whoever I talk to, either seems to love him or hate him.
And I, like always, find myself falling right smack dab in the middle, and I don’t much like it here right now.
You see, I read the first 8 or so chapters this morning and it tore me up in ways I don’t understand. My emotions are completely confused. After reading some of the things he wrote people while he traveled, or wrote in his journal, I can’t decide whether to amuse a sense of wonder for the story of his life and death, or pity. Part of me wants to be jealous of his boldness, and another longs to rebuke him for his naiveté.
I guess I’ll just have to keep reading, but for the moment, and for whatever reason, that kid’s story is digging at something deep in my chest. I’ll let you know what I think when I finish.
