The Weekend Account of Firefly, Tennis, Beer, Church, Shoes, and Avatar

WARNING: A LONG POST BE AHEAD.

Keisha left for a week on Friday at noon o’clock, heading down to Daytona with her family while I stay here in beautiful, warm and humid Kentucky.  My friend Adam came over Friday afternoon and we hung out until last night.  It’s always enjoyable hanging out with friends you don’t see too often.

We drove up to Evansville on Friday night.  There are two nice used bookstores up there that I had a coupon for and wanted to look for some graphic novels.  Sadly, neither had what I was looking for, though I did get Keisha an Anne of Green Gables book for her collection.  When we were done with that we came back to Owensboro and stopped by the comic store, spending an hour basking in the glow of geekery.  I fully admit that I’m a geek.  I’m weird.  I’m odd.  But walking into the comic store on a Friday night when there are different role-playing games and Marvel Clicks events unfolding on the tables makes me feel a bit more normal than I normally do.  Though, honestly, I think I could relate to those people more so than I could to the other end of the social classes.  I’ve never really been one to fit into a clique.  Cliques are scary.  Anyway, I picked up the latest issue of Star Wars Legacy (#48) and we headed to Stewartland. 

At home I wanted Adam to watch Firefly, as he’d never seen it before and I just got my blu-ray in the mail.  So we started the ill-fated, beloved show that night and wound up staying awake until 3am watching Mal and the gang.  I still don’t understand why the show got the axe, just like Arrested Development, and I never will.  Nevertheless, Adam enjoyed it.  At some point Stella started yelping and barking in agony and it scared me pretty bad.  At first I thought Sofie had bit her, then we thought she might have been stung or bit by an insect.  She was limping and quite pitiful.  So I rubbed on her leg and she finally calmed down after several minutes of tenseness.

Saturday morning I woke up early and decided to play Heavy Rain while Adam slept.  I wound up beating the game and was mostly satisfied with my performance.  There are a few things I’d do differently, but overall the game was fun and the story was certainly intense.  The temperatures soared to the hundred degree mark and over with the heat index around lunch time, but that didn’t stop us from playing a little tennis and disc golf.  I think this was my first disc golf outing since January or February, and I pretty much sucked the entire course.  Still, it was fun.  We watched some more Firefly that evening and wound up talking about different things.  I had never had a beer or an ale before, and Adam wanted to take me to a bar and buy me one.  I agreed, but if I didn’t like it he was going to drink it.

The bar was nice.  Very clean.  Well-lit.  Excellent decor.  Beatles music was playing.  Charlie Chaplin was on the big screen.  He picked me out a drink (he wanted me to try Blue Moon, but the bar didn’t have it, so instead I got Indian Pale Ale) and the bartender put the foamy beverage in front of me.  I have to admit, the smell was much more pleasant than I was expecting, something akin to apple juice and white wine.  Unfortunately, the flavor tasted like drinking carbonated water, of which I am not a fan.  His drink also tasted like crap, though again the smell wasn’t that bad.  I sampled one other thing, some sort of really dark-like-Coke drink, and did not like it either.  I guess I’m just a wine and liquor kind of person if I’m to drink.  I wound up just drinking water, something much tastier than all that other junk I tried.

We were getting ready to leave when Adam struck up with a loner sitting beside him.  The man was from New Zealand, currently living in Kentucky working for a farm entrepreneur.  We wound up talking to this guy for three hours.  The man, Matthew, was hilarious.  We talked about the differences between New Zealand culture and American culture.  Differences between words we use.  Life in the country and life in the cities.  All in all the conversation was fun, funny, and pleasant.  Plus, I’d never met anyone from NZ before, so that was cool.

After midnight we headed home and finished off disc two of Firefly, finally falling asleep near 2am.  Stella had another incident like Friday night, though this time I was watching her when it happened.  The dogs were playing and Stella moved somehow that popped her knee out of place.  (Her other back knee used to do this, but it never pained her.)  I’m guessing this knee joint is tight and the thing is hurting her more than the other leg did.  I put the thing back in place and he immediately quit yelping, though she walked timidly.

Sunday morning Adam went to church with me.  Our normal pastor, Bro. James Dean, is gone on vacation right now, so the youth pastor led service.  Bro. Will preached a strong message on faith and church and the mediocrity of most American Christians.  It was an exceptional and challenging message.  At the end of the service he untied his shoes and placed them at the altar, telling the congregation that Christianity is a challenge to be active.  He was walking out without his shoes and invited the rest of the congregation to do the same.  The shoes would be collected and taken to the local shelter (which happens to be the one me and Alex lead worship at). 

How many pairs of shoes do we have and how many do we need?  How many people walk around without them, or with shoes that are held together by a thread?  It’s odd.  That morning, before church, I actually took the time to think about wearing my favorite New Balances or just some simple sandals.  I opted for the tennis shoes.  And then during the service I remember crossing my legs and thinking, I like these shoes.  They’re in good condition and look pretty good.  Then we get the challenge at the end of the service and I put my shoes at the altar.  Truly, how many pairs of shoes do I need?

Worship at the shelter was a bit disheartening.  No one showed up, music practice was rough (I forgot my thin pick and had to use some horrible thick thing), and it was hot.  They were thankful for the shoes, though.  Three garbage bags were collected.  That’s around 50 pairs of shoes.  In some ways that’s impressive, that fifty people would remove and give away their shoes for someone else who needs/wants them.  On the other hand, there were between 200-300 people at the service, and the 50 pairs is rather indicative of our good ole American Christian Culture.

Sunday night service was equally impressive and more moving.  Instead of a normal song-prayer-preach formulaic church service, we had a time of prayer and worship.  We played music continually, lifting up songs and praising God for His majesty.  We prayed with purpose, with passion, with determination, with faith.  I felt worship, in my heart.  It’s hard to play and pray and sing and keep an eye on the worship leader.  The service lasted around an hour, and I loved every minute of it.  To me, that is what church is.  Desiring God, longing to bring Him glory and honor, desperate to give Him praise.  He is worthy of it all, and I don’t think our church (or many others) truly worship Him on Sundays.  We get into familiar patterns and repeat familiar songs and pray familiar prayers.  This is not worship.

After the night service I went and ate with Alex and Rachael and then went home.  I was exhausted.  Staying up late like that is something I rarely do.  I’m usually in bed by eleven or midnight, so I guess I was just groggy over the lack of sleep.  Nevertheless, I had my final season of Avatar: The Last Airbender to start, and I couldn’t go to bed without watching at least one episode.  I popped in the DVD and snuggled up on the couch with the dogs.  Episode One, “The Awakening,” was great, and I’m eager to finish the series.  It’s definitely joined the ranks of being one of my favorite shows.  Hopefully the show ends on a positive note, but I’m expecting dark things for the future. 

So the weekend was long, but it was fun.  I was busy, but in a good way.  Throughout the days we worked several crossword puzzles, watched some good television, played some humid tennis, and glorified God.  All in all, a very good weekend but for one thing.

I miss Keisha.  Her absence hit me Saturday night when I lay down with the dogs.  I couldn’t begin to imagine not having her in my life.  I love her more than I love any other living person, and I know I don’t tell her enough.  She truly is my best friend, and I’m ready for her to get home again.  Of course, with her gone down to Florida, I can play all the video games I want to and not worry.  Woe is me.

Arbitrary Thoughts from a Magic Garden of Intrigue

One:  “Hath not a Jew eyes?  Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions; fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, heal’d by the same means, warm’d and cool’d by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is?  If you prick us, do we not bleed?  If you tickle us, do we not laugh?  If you poison us, do we not die?  And if you wrong us, do we not revenge?”—The Merchant of Venice, Act 3, Scene 1, by William Shakespeare

II.  Is not that quote amazing?  It speaks on so many things, hitting prejudice and racism square on the head.  The words Jew and Christian can be switched for any demographic group and still make just as much sense.  Are not we all humans? 

Tres.  I absolutely hate it when a survey or statistic reports on things that deal with skin color.  I heard on NPR the other day a story about how the economic downturn is particularly hard on “white” Americans and that it’s resembling a similar crisis that happened to “black” Americans many years ago.  I couldn’t finish listening to the story.  Why, I wonder.  Is it not obvious that the only way for racism to stop is to STOP HAVING THESE TYPES OF STATISTICS, categorized by freaking skin color.  Whenever I’m given the option, I always check “prefer not to respond.”  As long as we describe people by their skin color we’re going to have a race problem.  But maybe I’m over-reacting.  I need to look at it from a different point of view, but I just can’t wrap my head around it.  On one hand, using a skin color as a descriptor should be the same as using a hair color or eye color; but, on the other hand, after years and years of prejudice, it’s not. 

FORE!  I still work crosswords all the time, generally one or two a day now.  My skills at solving have greatly improved over these past two years.  I see common words and themes and find myself finishing them quicker and quicker.  When clues or themes are clever and/or witty, I usually always have a blast working out the puzzle.  However, I’m still not very good at Sudoku.

Golden Rings.  Didja get it?  Huh?

6.  I was doing really good on that whole weight loss thing.  A steady decline in weight.  But then something went awry and things reversed.  And then I spent a week away from home in Illinois, all fast-food and unheathies.  So.  While I’m still lighter than when I started, I’m not as light as I was.

6+1.  Remember that one episode of ER when Lucy Knight got stabbed by that schizo guy that was the head elf in The Santa Clause on Valentines Day?  And then Dr. Carter walked in and picked up the V-Day card and got attacked as well, stabbed in the back.  And he fell down and landed beside the bed, where he saw Lucy bleeding to death on the other side of the bed and that loud music was rocking and they were a-bleedin’?  Man, that was such a great episode.  I watched plenty o’ ER growing up.  When Dr. Green died it was very sad.

1000.  That’s binary.  Really.  Cause 0*2^0+0*2^1+0*2^2+1*2^3 = 2^3 = 8.  I don’t really understand why some things are written in binary.  How exactly do a series of 1s and 0s transform into everything?  I’m not sure.

Blackbird claw, raven wing under the red sun. Long clothesline, two shirt sleeves waving as we go by.  Hundred years, hundred more, someday we may see a woman king, wristwatch time slowing as she goes to sleep…  I love listening to Iron & Wine.  Man, such great stuff.  Sam Beam is a fine wordsmith.

The Soloist Review + A Homeless Rant

I watched The Soloist last night, and I was intrigued enough to finish the film to the end. The movie depicts the true story of Nathaniel Anthony Ayers, Jr. (Jamie Foxx), a prodigious musician that attends Julliard, develops a mental disorder, drops out, and lives homeless on the streets of L.A. for years. He is befriended by Steve Lopez (Robert Downey, Jr.), a writer for the L.A. Times, after Lopez spots Ayers on the streets playing the violin. Ayers is looking for a story, and after learning that Ayers is a Julliard drop-out, he decides to write about Ayers.

The movie largely deals with homelessness, as well as the beauty of music and the power of friendship. Homelessness, a matter that is particularly touching to my heart (see here), is a gut-tugging lifestyle depicted in the movie. While this movie does not go into great detail of life on the streets, it still is eye-opening and relevant. I was reminded of John Grisham's The Street Lawyer, which is phenomenal if you haven't read it.

Another aspect of the movie that I enjoyed was the relationship Ayers had with music. He would seek out his refuge in the music he played, often finding his only solace in the comfort of the notes. You could see Ayer's relationship with music clearly on his face, the love he had was in his eyes, in the way his hands played. It was artistic, and I think artists can relate to the feelings Ayers exemplified.

The final thing that propelled the story was the development of Lopez. At first he just wants a story, but soon he has a friend that he begins to care about. His concern for Ayers is evident, and this relationship is touching to watch.

Even with all of these things, I can't say that the movie was wonderful. I'm not sure if it's supposed to be. What The Soloist is is a film that offers hope to the viewer by observing the courage of Ayers. It also is a window into homelessness, and in my book, anything that sheds light on this problem deserves a special sort of place. What kind of country are we if we can't take care of our own starving, hurting, homeless people? Are we too stiff-necked to give out some money to someone in need? Oh, if you give out your money then you won't be able to buy yourself something superfluous? Oh, okay, I'm sorry. You just go right ahead and buy that extra pair of pants you've been eyeballing. That's okay. You need fifty pair anyway, to help balance the economy, since the homeless man has only one pair, unless he's really lucky and has two.

I don't get it. I understand that some people make bad choices and are sentenced to a life on the streets. People who gamble away their money and can't afford to pay their rent, or who spend their cash on drugs and other fixes instead of paying their bills. That's all understood, but what about the majority of the people? The ones who try to live, who make a mistake or two, and who ultimately end out on the streets because of a few mistakes. In fact, the entire premise of not wanting to give to a homeless person based on "they've had their chance" seems unfair. I dare say, have you not made mistakes in life? Were you not given extra help along the way? If you're reading this blog, then you are magnitudes better than millions of others out there.

The problem with homelessness can't be that we don't have enough housing. In my community, there are hundreds of houses and condos and apts up for sale/rent. I'm willing to bet this is true across the country. No, the problem with homelessness is that our country depends too much on the Almighty Dollar. We're a cut-and-paste society, with clear-cut rules and a kill-or-be-killed attitude. There is no grace in our hearts; we're all every man for himself.

That's disgusting, unbecoming, and embarrassing. What is it about our society that compels us to be ahead, to be at the top of the ladder? We look and see things we want, which are too expensive, so we get a job to make money to buy things to only want more things. That implies that the problem is deeper than money. The problem is our insatiable desire.

Yes, Desire is the true evil here. In itself, desire is not a bad thing. It motivates us to achieve things, to help people, to create vessels capable of exploring the heavens. But where should we limit our desires? How selfish are we allowed to be before we are truly selfish? Friends, I'm sad to write it, but I don't have the answer. There is no harm in buying things for yourself, but how much can we afford while our other brothers and sisters can't even eat?

The whole point of this is sickening. I can't tell you how much is too much if I don't know myself. All I know is that when the opportunity arises for us to help someone in need, we should snap it up and help with all we can. Who knows, one day we could be just another beggar on the streets.

Homelessness and Poverty

Last night we decided to go to Dairy Queen for the Buy One Get One Free gimmick of blizzards since it snowed yesterday. Before the DQ trip we all ate at Santa Fe, a Mexican restaurant. In fact, we've ate out several times in the past week, and odds are you probably have, too. Regardless, while we were at Dairy Queen a man made his way into the store and bought himself a burger. He sat a few tables away from us and ate his single burger silently and alone. He was wrapped in a heavy coat and his skin was hard and leather looking. I am sad to say that I did not notice any of this until the very end. Keisha pointed out the man as he was getting ready to leave. She pointed out that he was counting out change on the table as if he was figuring whether or not he had enough money for more food. While she was discreetly telling me, the man left the store. We sat and talked quietly about the situation, and I silently prayed that the man would still be outside when we left.

I thank God that he was. Neither of us had cash on us but we approached the man as we were making our way to the truck. "I think you dropped this," I said to the man, holding out a $10 bill and placing it into his hand. We looked at each other in the eyes and he seemed confused. I repeated what I said and he smiled and replied with a "God bless you." Ten dollars isn't much money, but to the man it was another warm meal or two. To me it was an opportunity to share kindness and love with a person in need.

Homelessness breaks my heart in a different way than starving kids in Africa or war-stricken villages in Afghanistan. Homelessness is at my doorstep and I can do something immediately to help. I keep a Bible with some money in my car on the chance that I meet someone on the side of the road needing help. I've gone through my clothes and packed warm things and non-perishable foods in Kroger bags and kept them in my car to give away to someone that may need it. I try to ask for the people's names when I give things so I can pray for them, and I hope by showing kindness to the person that another Follower of the Cross will be able to work with the seed that I planted.

We are so blessed that we don't even stop to think about it. We have our warm homes with enough electronics to scare Russia into thinking we're starting another Cold War. Our fridges and cabinets are well stocked. Our trash is full of food that we don't like and/or didn't finish eating. Our closets are stuffed with clothes we don't wear, but we think they look pretty or we could wear them someday. Outside it's 26* and feels like 20*, and there's a very likely chance that 3-6" of ice and snow will fall through the night. Outside our homes there are millions of people in need of not only the basic sustenance, but also in need of some kindness and generosity.

I urge you to lend a helping hand to someone in need whenever the opportunity arises. We have the blessing and opportunity to make money, but someone out on the street most likely does not. Give and give sacrificially. Prove to yourself that you are not a heartless, greedy, typical American. Help someone.

The American Hamburger

Whopper Virgins

I thought this brief clip was very interesting, albeit strange. I suppose as Americans we are immune to the fact that there are people who have never heard of a hamburger before. I do hope that they had cheese with their burger, though.

But, cynically, I thought that it is a good thing that there are not burger joints all over the place. Can you imagine if America's legacy to the world was the fat-full and calorie-loaded hamburger? Instead of world hunger we'd have global obesity.

But, amused and happily, I watched the "whopper virgins" try their hamburgers for the first time. Their faces were full of suspicion and curiosity, but most seemed to enjoy it, I think. I sure do like cheeseburgers, though.