1) The personal updates.
Laurie is quite slammed with allergies. Last night she couldn't breathe at one point. I have allergies, but hesitate to even mention it in light of what Laurie is going through. She is taking medicine that looks toward the long term. We have researched and are deciding which trees must go before next Spring.
Laurie wonders if we didn't have the swine 'flu. Turns out the symptoms are exactly like the stomach 'flu we had about a month ago. And we did lay around like swine for several days. Essentially this is a meaningless observation as we survive and neither of us can see a doctor in the foreseeable future.
I remain unemployed, but I have been far from idle. We have some income in Laurie's job and unemployment and we have savings. The wolf is not at the door. Also I have put in many applications to jobs that I am qualified for. I don't know. It's hard to desperately want to work and keep your house and have the rug pulled out from under you. But in spite of these predicaments we forge ahead. One does one's best to be joyful and grateful for the blessings one has. As Wagner wrote, "Joy is not in things. It is in us."
2) The Radio
Laurie and I are avid NPR listeners. We love our local station although when I was in Orange County I was so envious of KUSC. When I lived down there, I would listen to Jim Svejda constantly. His show was like a music appreciation class. He would say that the best way to learn about music is to listen to a lot of it. One could gain a rich education from his show, The Record Shelf, alone although the rest of the station was excellent as well. It was a 24 hour classical station. In Chico we have classical in the afternoon however the DJs seem to play 1) the major canon, pieces I knew when I was in high school (Beethoven's 5th, the 1812 Overture, Air on the G String, ect.) and 2) (shudder) film soundtracks. Okay, that may be overstating my case slightly, but that is the atmosphere. The station removed all but a 1/2 hour opera show from Saturday's schedule. They used to play the weekly Metropolitan Opera in its entirety. Apparently the good people of Chico felt that cut too much into Car Talk. Okay. I'm getting catty.
But don't get me wrong, there are wonderful things about our station. We have Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me, This American Life, Talk of the Nation, Radiolab, The Opera Attic (which I used to think was The Opera Addict to which I would heartily amen), Garrison Keillor in several of whatever it is he does, BBC News as well as Morning Edition. It's a fine station. I am not slamming our station. It just reminds me a bit of when I went to a church with no teaching whatsoever and found that I would supplement my spiritual life by downloading good preaching. Now I download good music as well. And there is a wealth out there. I highly recommend everyone subscribe to WGBH's Classical Performance Podcast.
3) Twitter
I avoided Twitter for a long time. I'd heard the jokes about how it is vapid and how it undermines meaningful discourse. Which I bought wholesale.
I finally signed up on a lark (http://twitter.com/paulmathers for those of you on Twitter) when my friend Turi posted a livejournal entry listing celebrities on Twitter and I went to check out Stephen Fry, Russell Brand, John Cleese, Neil Gaiman, Amanda Palmer, Eddie Izzard, Weird Al, Penn Jillette and so on (The other day I opened my email to find "You have a direct message from Yoko Ono.") So, yeah, I was dazzled with the celebrities that I happen to like.
Then I started Tweeting and it was a fun diversion. A way of micro-journaling and, for one who has a very poor memory, a good, simple way to remember what I've been doing and when. But then I found myself within 48 hours being laid off and travelling hundreds of miles to be with my Mom who was very close to death in the hospital. Suddenly the ability to connect with my loved ones around the world and update them on what is going on with me from a device I always have in my pocket became something I could not place a value on. As well as the emotional tether it provided.
I am a convert. My conclusion is that, like all technology, it is as good or evil (or vapid) as those who wield it. As for me, I see it as a wonderful tool of modern life.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
How about some pictures from our trip, eh what?
I posted and, in fact, took no pictures of Mom since she was very sick in the hospital and they weren't really memories we wanted to frame. But here are a few with my grandmother.
Here's Laurie at the house where I grew up.
Here's my parent's guard dog.
Laurie in the hospital waiting room.
Me at Old World.
Dad and I had a really strong weekend together. It was really wonderful to spend that time with him.
I think this was a Lutheran church at Old World although Laurie said Lutherans would not have a big statue of Mary in the front door. Who knows!
And here was the birthday dinner.
Act Two?
We made it home. Schubert was very excited to see us. Upon our arrival we found the very good news that unemployment is going to pay me only about $100 less a week than my job paid. This is very good news as Laurie and I have spent the past 5 days asking things like "What are we going to do about Laurie's Mom?" "What are we going to do with the 6,000+ books?" "What are we going to do with the dogs?" Meaning when we inevitably lose the house. Now that is beginning to seem like less of an inevitability while I struggle like a crazy man to find a new job.
No one we've told this news has been as excited as we were, but then we realize that pretty much everyone we're surrounded with are going through their own very hard times.
I don't believe in omens. Ever. I hate reading too much into things. On the way out of my parents house a wolf hybrid dog was in my parent's yard and came to the door, preventing us from leaving. It also chased their cats. I made a "wolf is at the door" joke. But then we got back to Chico and found that we have unexpected roses in our yard. See. You can read anything into either of those. Better to just keep going and not be at the mercy of moods, suggestions or the wind.
We have no air conditioning in Laurie's car so our ride home, as Laurie said, "was like travelling by stagecoach." We are wiped out, dirty, sweaty, emotionally taxed, and ready for a spot of wine and a good sit down.
Tomorrow, for me, will be the dentist (I still have dental through the end of the month so it behooves me to get my cavities filled ASAP), filling out unemployment forms, sending in at least two resumes, and calling the mortgage company to beg for a period of relaxed rates. Times being what they are I am lead to believe that they will agree.
No one we've told this news has been as excited as we were, but then we realize that pretty much everyone we're surrounded with are going through their own very hard times.
I don't believe in omens. Ever. I hate reading too much into things. On the way out of my parents house a wolf hybrid dog was in my parent's yard and came to the door, preventing us from leaving. It also chased their cats. I made a "wolf is at the door" joke. But then we got back to Chico and found that we have unexpected roses in our yard. See. You can read anything into either of those. Better to just keep going and not be at the mercy of moods, suggestions or the wind.
We have no air conditioning in Laurie's car so our ride home, as Laurie said, "was like travelling by stagecoach." We are wiped out, dirty, sweaty, emotionally taxed, and ready for a spot of wine and a good sit down.
Tomorrow, for me, will be the dentist (I still have dental through the end of the month so it behooves me to get my cavities filled ASAP), filling out unemployment forms, sending in at least two resumes, and calling the mortgage company to beg for a period of relaxed rates. Times being what they are I am lead to believe that they will agree.
Stalling like Carl
And so we are heading back. We are about to get into the car. In fact, I am stalling. In fact, Laurie was pretty much hovering over me as I sit here until she decided I was taking my sweet time and she could go have an English muffin. We really ought to get back on the road. I am stalling because I don't want to go back to the uncertain. Although I do want to go back to my dogs.
Pretty much the trip was going to the hospital with my Dad (who I set up with a Twitter account, by the way. Go check out Terry Mathers.) This was good. Laurie and I agree that the hand of Providence was blazingly obvious on this trip.
Mom did almost die. The doctor came to her yesterday and said, "Mrs. Mathers, you almost died." On Friday when they took her into the ER her blood pressure was 60/30 and falling. It was an allergic reaction to some medicine for her polymiositis. As of last night she looked fine and I just got the message that she will be home today although, unfortunately, we will be halfway back to Chico by then.
Dad took us out to dinner for my birthday. That was nice.
Laurie and I have packed up and are about to get on the road.
But I am stalling.
Pretty much the trip was going to the hospital with my Dad (who I set up with a Twitter account, by the way. Go check out Terry Mathers.) This was good. Laurie and I agree that the hand of Providence was blazingly obvious on this trip.
Mom did almost die. The doctor came to her yesterday and said, "Mrs. Mathers, you almost died." On Friday when they took her into the ER her blood pressure was 60/30 and falling. It was an allergic reaction to some medicine for her polymiositis. As of last night she looked fine and I just got the message that she will be home today although, unfortunately, we will be halfway back to Chico by then.
Dad took us out to dinner for my birthday. That was nice.
Laurie and I have packed up and are about to get on the road.
But I am stalling.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Ask Dr. Paul
It's time for everyone's favorite feature: Ask Dr. Paul. This time our question comes from Laurie on Twitter.
Laurie: The History Channel is talking about the end of the world. Is that history already?
Dr. Paul: Yes. Yes, it is.
If you have a question for Dr. Paul, send it, comment it, or write it on a piece of paper and stick it in a jar in the middle of a field with a rock on top in case some wolves passing by bump into it they won't knock it over and make the paper blow away.
Laurie: The History Channel is talking about the end of the world. Is that history already?
Dr. Paul: Yes. Yes, it is.
If you have a question for Dr. Paul, send it, comment it, or write it on a piece of paper and stick it in a jar in the middle of a field with a rock on top in case some wolves passing by bump into it they won't knock it over and make the paper blow away.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
On the world
Laurie and I were talking about the Recession, the state of the world, the depravity of humankind, and so on. I must first ask the Calvinists in the crowd to stick with me through this first part. In one sense, we could make the world whatever we wish. We could have a Utopia. We could do whatever we choose.
Which is what we have done. We made it what we chose. We could have made the world whatever we wanted and what we have done is create... this. A mass of evil, depravity, isolation and greed. I fully believe that the hand of God is the only thing staying utter chaos and social Darwinism of the worst kind (remind me to post on Darwinism at some point. I don't subscribe wholesale to the party line Christian perspective on Darwinism except for when it is applied socially, politically or economically.) The state of the world shows the condition of the collective heart of the world.
I have been thinking about political hierarchies, peaceful and Utopian anarchy, Libertarianism, corrupt or at the very least morally reprehensible business practices in the free market, and so on. Also it has run past the back of my eyelids about who is to blame for me losing my job. In some sense, greedy mortgage brokers, irresponsible home buyers, credit lenders, timid consumers, those using deregulation for political purposes rather than... well across the board actually one could say those who did not consider the consequences of their greedy practices. Of course immediately it occurs to me that none of that matters. What has happened is what has happened. One needs to make the best of one's circumstances, even if those circumstances include losing everything after toiling and laboring to do everything right.
I have been thinking about that amazing scene from the end of Chaplin's The Great Dictator where the Jewish barber (played by Chaplin) is mistaken for the Hitler character (also played by Chaplin.) After great suffering at the hands of a tyrant, he gets up and delivers... okay, I know I keep leaving sentences unfinished like I do in real life. Needless to say I have been a bit emotional in the past few days and this is no exception. I know some people think I fall too much on the side of social justice in my Walk and I will concede that it is in my blood and heritage.
This world is harsh and you will suffer. As Albert Schweitzer said, "Seek always to do some good, somewhere. Every man has to seek in his own way to realize his true worth. You must give some time to your fellow man. For remember, you don't live in a world all your own. Your brothers are here too."
and "What really matters is that we should all of us realize that we are guilty of inhumanity. The horror of this realization should shake us out of our lethargy so that we can direct our hopes and our intentions to the coming of an era in which war will have no place."
and "Don't let your hearts grow numb. Stay alert. It is your soul which matters."
And as my brother so graciously texted me yesterday, "The cross, the cross, the cross! It is our all! Never lose sight of it, my friend."
I think what I want to do now is to be a blessing where ever I can and to glorify God in all that I do.
Which is what we have done. We made it what we chose. We could have made the world whatever we wanted and what we have done is create... this. A mass of evil, depravity, isolation and greed. I fully believe that the hand of God is the only thing staying utter chaos and social Darwinism of the worst kind (remind me to post on Darwinism at some point. I don't subscribe wholesale to the party line Christian perspective on Darwinism except for when it is applied socially, politically or economically.) The state of the world shows the condition of the collective heart of the world.
I have been thinking about political hierarchies, peaceful and Utopian anarchy, Libertarianism, corrupt or at the very least morally reprehensible business practices in the free market, and so on. Also it has run past the back of my eyelids about who is to blame for me losing my job. In some sense, greedy mortgage brokers, irresponsible home buyers, credit lenders, timid consumers, those using deregulation for political purposes rather than... well across the board actually one could say those who did not consider the consequences of their greedy practices. Of course immediately it occurs to me that none of that matters. What has happened is what has happened. One needs to make the best of one's circumstances, even if those circumstances include losing everything after toiling and laboring to do everything right.
I have been thinking about that amazing scene from the end of Chaplin's The Great Dictator where the Jewish barber (played by Chaplin) is mistaken for the Hitler character (also played by Chaplin.) After great suffering at the hands of a tyrant, he gets up and delivers... okay, I know I keep leaving sentences unfinished like I do in real life. Needless to say I have been a bit emotional in the past few days and this is no exception. I know some people think I fall too much on the side of social justice in my Walk and I will concede that it is in my blood and heritage.
This world is harsh and you will suffer. As Albert Schweitzer said, "Seek always to do some good, somewhere. Every man has to seek in his own way to realize his true worth. You must give some time to your fellow man. For remember, you don't live in a world all your own. Your brothers are here too."
and "What really matters is that we should all of us realize that we are guilty of inhumanity. The horror of this realization should shake us out of our lethargy so that we can direct our hopes and our intentions to the coming of an era in which war will have no place."
and "Don't let your hearts grow numb. Stay alert. It is your soul which matters."
And as my brother so graciously texted me yesterday, "The cross, the cross, the cross! It is our all! Never lose sight of it, my friend."
I think what I want to do now is to be a blessing where ever I can and to glorify God in all that I do.
Dispatches from the Valley of the Shadow of Death
So, the morning after the lay off I rose very early and pulled out my Geneva Study Bible. I was aiming for Psalms but, wouldn't you know it, opening right to the beginning of Job. It was exactly what I needed to read. It has been on my mind and heart ever since (and Laurie can testify on my tongue as well.)
We decided to take a breakneck trip down to OC to visit my parents. We are driving back to Chico on Tuesday. While Laurie and I were driving down my mother suffered a tremendous allergic reaction to some medication (she has a rare, auto-immune disorder) and ended up in the Emergency Room. She is still in the ICU.
I went to the hospital with Dad this morning. Mom is not well by any means, but she was better when we left than when we arrived. She could potentially be out of the hospital before we leave on Tuesday. Maybe. Providence brought Laurie and I down here at the perfect time. I think it was very good for all of us to be together right now.
They carted Mom off for tests. Dad brought me home. Mom left us a few hundred dollars she had been saving for our originally planned trip in June. Laurie and I went to a used book store that is liquidating its inventory for closing and we spent about a third of the money on books. Many were presents for ourselves which I almost felt a little guilty about except that 1) that was what Mom wanted us to do with the money and 2) Richard Wagner's autobiography and the collected letters of Mozart!
We are going to dinner with Dad soon.
For those readers who fancy themselves the praying sort, the job search is loaded into my cannon. Also, the people who were left behind. The people who have to lay people off are heavy on my heart. Also, from what I'm hearing, the ship seems to be sinking at my old job. Those people need prayer and help as well as I. Also, my mother.
We decided to take a breakneck trip down to OC to visit my parents. We are driving back to Chico on Tuesday. While Laurie and I were driving down my mother suffered a tremendous allergic reaction to some medication (she has a rare, auto-immune disorder) and ended up in the Emergency Room. She is still in the ICU.
I went to the hospital with Dad this morning. Mom is not well by any means, but she was better when we left than when we arrived. She could potentially be out of the hospital before we leave on Tuesday. Maybe. Providence brought Laurie and I down here at the perfect time. I think it was very good for all of us to be together right now.
They carted Mom off for tests. Dad brought me home. Mom left us a few hundred dollars she had been saving for our originally planned trip in June. Laurie and I went to a used book store that is liquidating its inventory for closing and we spent about a third of the money on books. Many were presents for ourselves which I almost felt a little guilty about except that 1) that was what Mom wanted us to do with the money and 2) Richard Wagner's autobiography and the collected letters of Mozart!
We are going to dinner with Dad soon.
For those readers who fancy themselves the praying sort, the job search is loaded into my cannon. Also, the people who were left behind. The people who have to lay people off are heavy on my heart. Also, from what I'm hearing, the ship seems to be sinking at my old job. Those people need prayer and help as well as I. Also, my mother.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Ave atque vale
This blog may very well be more interesting in the near future. One of the pleasant side effects, I suppose, to an otherwise bleak malady.
I lept into action and filed for unemployment immediately. I also found 2 jobs to apply for. There is always Hope. And there is always Crosby.
As you can well imagine, a good portion of the day was consumed with phone calls and discussions of the future.
We came to a few decisions.
Tomorrow we are going to Orange County. We pushed Laurie's next cleaning job back to Wednesday so we are leaving tomorrow and returning on Tuesday. Providentially, my 32nd birthday will occur down there. I needed to go to Orange County. I needed to see my parents and I needed to see the ocean. We have people to watch the pets.
We return to Chico Tuesday night at which point my full time occupation is job hunting. We have enough money to see us through a couple months should worst come to worst. I have no intention of seeing worst come to worst.
People have been very supportive and I thank and love you all. May you live in less interesting times.
I lept into action and filed for unemployment immediately. I also found 2 jobs to apply for. There is always Hope. And there is always Crosby.
As you can well imagine, a good portion of the day was consumed with phone calls and discussions of the future.
We came to a few decisions.
Tomorrow we are going to Orange County. We pushed Laurie's next cleaning job back to Wednesday so we are leaving tomorrow and returning on Tuesday. Providentially, my 32nd birthday will occur down there. I needed to go to Orange County. I needed to see my parents and I needed to see the ocean. We have people to watch the pets.
We return to Chico Tuesday night at which point my full time occupation is job hunting. We have enough money to see us through a couple months should worst come to worst. I have no intention of seeing worst come to worst.
People have been very supportive and I thank and love you all. May you live in less interesting times.
The sword falls.
I apologize for the maudlin title of the post. It was that or "The Laws of Entropy."
This morning I was in the dairy room as usual. My supervisor came in, not unusual, and told me to take a walk with him, also not unusual although you are probably already way ahead of my story. We walked passed the room where I take the dairy products and I thought "Aw, crap." Because I knew that we were headed toward the HR office. Sure enough, the Foreman was there, the HR guy was there, my supervisor sat next to me. The Foreman started with "these are tough times and..."
Here I am at home and I am unemployed. I have to take my uniforms from my delivery days back at noon and then I am going straight to the unemployment office. We have enough for maybe like 2 months and we do still have income (Laurie's, the book business, unemployment.) But, needless to say, I will require a new, full time job of comparable pay.
We are also planning on bugging out to OC in the very near future as I will have no vacation in June, nor anytime in the near future even if I found new employment immediately.
Yeah, so I am no longer employed at ProPacific. An interesting fact is that tomorrow was to have been my 2 year anniversary at ProPac.
The future stretches before me like a thundercloud. Every morning I wake up and thank God for providing for me and my family. I shall continue.
If you are the praying sort, prayers are appreciated. And if you are the employing sort, we are willing to relocate.
This morning I was in the dairy room as usual. My supervisor came in, not unusual, and told me to take a walk with him, also not unusual although you are probably already way ahead of my story. We walked passed the room where I take the dairy products and I thought "Aw, crap." Because I knew that we were headed toward the HR office. Sure enough, the Foreman was there, the HR guy was there, my supervisor sat next to me. The Foreman started with "these are tough times and..."
Here I am at home and I am unemployed. I have to take my uniforms from my delivery days back at noon and then I am going straight to the unemployment office. We have enough for maybe like 2 months and we do still have income (Laurie's, the book business, unemployment.) But, needless to say, I will require a new, full time job of comparable pay.
We are also planning on bugging out to OC in the very near future as I will have no vacation in June, nor anytime in the near future even if I found new employment immediately.
Yeah, so I am no longer employed at ProPacific. An interesting fact is that tomorrow was to have been my 2 year anniversary at ProPac.
The future stretches before me like a thundercloud. Every morning I wake up and thank God for providing for me and my family. I shall continue.
If you are the praying sort, prayers are appreciated. And if you are the employing sort, we are willing to relocate.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
He won't shut up about Shakespeare.
We borrowed a DVD of As You Like It with Helen Mirren (before she was a dame.) I am very excited to watch it. It is one of my favorite shows. We seem to be going through shows that I have been involved with productions of.
The Macbeth was a disappointment. So much so that we actually didn't make it through. They sacrificed diction for "madness" and they seemed to think that whispering inaudibly made it spookier. Maybe it was just bad sound quality on the film, but I rather thought it was the performances. Anyway, I am hard pressed to think of a great film version of Macbeth, even the Orson Welles who, as many of you know, is one of my sacred cows.
Another is The Tempest which has Helen Mirren as a female Propero (I guess England was out of old men who could play the part. They are all working on comic book films I suppose.) It also has Russell Brand as Trinculo presumably in keeping with, in the wake of Forgetting Sarah Marshall, his trend of being cast as people who very much resemble him. Julie Taymor directs. Along with Where The Wild Thing Are, it is the other film I am looking forward to.
The Macbeth was a disappointment. So much so that we actually didn't make it through. They sacrificed diction for "madness" and they seemed to think that whispering inaudibly made it spookier. Maybe it was just bad sound quality on the film, but I rather thought it was the performances. Anyway, I am hard pressed to think of a great film version of Macbeth, even the Orson Welles who, as many of you know, is one of my sacred cows.
Another is The Tempest which has Helen Mirren as a female Propero (I guess England was out of old men who could play the part. They are all working on comic book films I suppose.) It also has Russell Brand as Trinculo presumably in keeping with, in the wake of Forgetting Sarah Marshall, his trend of being cast as people who very much resemble him. Julie Taymor directs. Along with Where The Wild Thing Are, it is the other film I am looking forward to.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Time may change me. But I can't trace time.
I decided to import this blog on Facebook instead of my Livejournal because my Livejournal can be a bit impersonal. It is solely for things I find online that are neat (like some sort of weblog.) This is the journal where I write about me and things that happen to me or, mainly, things that rattle around in my noodle, so I thought it might be the more appropriate thing to stream into my Facebook. For those of you who read this on Facebook, here's more Paul stuff. If you miss the photo dumps, you are going to have to go to my Livejournal to see them here and after: http://possumbane.livejournal.com/
my John Bunyan class
The John Bunyan class went really well. Laurie said she thought that it was my best so far. I am only inclined to say that John Bunyan may very well be my favorite in the series. He was pretty much everything that was good about Puritans with nothing for me to have to explain. I talked about his suffering, our global chaos compared to the global chaos of his day, I mentioned a sermon by Robert Krulwich, I almost cried at one point when I talked about how Laurie may outlive me. I talked about Bunyan enduring a life of great suffering by focusing on the only eternal, the only source from which all good flows. He says it way better than I could ever manage when he talked of his conversion in Grace Abounding:
"It was glorious to me to see His exaltation, and the worth and prevalency of all His benefits, and that because now I could look from myself to Him, and would reckon that all those graces of God that now were green in me, were yet but like those cracked groats and fourpence-halfpennies that rich men carry in their purses, when their gold is in their trunk at home! Oh, I saw that my gold was in my trunk at home! In Christ my Lord and Savior! Now Christ was all."
"It was glorious to me to see His exaltation, and the worth and prevalency of all His benefits, and that because now I could look from myself to Him, and would reckon that all those graces of God that now were green in me, were yet but like those cracked groats and fourpence-halfpennies that rich men carry in their purses, when their gold is in their trunk at home! Oh, I saw that my gold was in my trunk at home! In Christ my Lord and Savior! Now Christ was all."
Friday, April 10, 2009
Good Friday
I am studying for my class on Sunday. This week I will be teaching on the life of John Bunyan who really was everything that was good about the Puritans. But his life had such a thick vein of suffering running through it.
Teaching a class on the Puritans has been enlightening in a number of ways. It has been sort of like when you get glasses for the first time when you need them and you put them on and suddenly the world is clearer than you could have imagined. Some Puritans were very good. Some of the long lasting legacies of the movement were one of the great gifts of history. Some of the Puritans were about as evil as humans can be. At the very least there were a good portion who fell into very unhealthy thought and behavior patterns. And some of those legacies are some of the worst curses of history. I highly recommend deeply studying the Puritans to everyone out there. There is so much more to the movement and the people involved than you think. There is much wisdom to be mined.
Right, I was talking about veins of suffering on the night of Good Friday. No matter who you are, you will suffer more in the future unless, I don't know, a stray bullet hits you in the brain right now. That being highly unlikely, made even more so by the fact that you just read those words and how creepy would that be for the cops to find on your computer screen in front of your corpse, you will most likely suffer. My condolences. This is why it behooves us to, as Bunyan might put it, to strive for the narrow gate which leads to God, the only constant, the only inperishable, and the source of all good. All else is so much kindling.
I should shut up before I reveal my whole class before I teach it. Just a few thoughts while Laurie is out there reading Warren Ellis of all things.
Teaching a class on the Puritans has been enlightening in a number of ways. It has been sort of like when you get glasses for the first time when you need them and you put them on and suddenly the world is clearer than you could have imagined. Some Puritans were very good. Some of the long lasting legacies of the movement were one of the great gifts of history. Some of the Puritans were about as evil as humans can be. At the very least there were a good portion who fell into very unhealthy thought and behavior patterns. And some of those legacies are some of the worst curses of history. I highly recommend deeply studying the Puritans to everyone out there. There is so much more to the movement and the people involved than you think. There is much wisdom to be mined.
Right, I was talking about veins of suffering on the night of Good Friday. No matter who you are, you will suffer more in the future unless, I don't know, a stray bullet hits you in the brain right now. That being highly unlikely, made even more so by the fact that you just read those words and how creepy would that be for the cops to find on your computer screen in front of your corpse, you will most likely suffer. My condolences. This is why it behooves us to, as Bunyan might put it, to strive for the narrow gate which leads to God, the only constant, the only inperishable, and the source of all good. All else is so much kindling.
I should shut up before I reveal my whole class before I teach it. Just a few thoughts while Laurie is out there reading Warren Ellis of all things.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
B-Day pictures
This is what we got Tony for his birthday (that and we're getting him his driving test.)
The birthday man. Tony, my step-son, on his 18th Birthday.
The Birthday CakeTuesday, April 7, 2009
Spark up a blog post
I got a Tweet from David Porter who runs the always fantastic and astoundingly prolific blog http://www.boomerinthepew.com/ which if you don't follow you're totally missing out and I feel sorry for you. The subject was briefly about cigars which we are getting for Tony for his 18th birthday tomorrow. Laurie and I had just talked about my own lack of topics to blog on and it struck me that I may actually have something edifying to say about smoking, leisure and Christianity.
I started smoking cigars when I was 15 because I was eccentric (good thing that phase ended!) I moved on the cigarettes which I smoked much and often until either the age of 20 or 21 (those years are hazy for other reasons.) I quit when I was coming down with yet another in a seemingly endless series of bronchial infections. I quit because I was tired of getting sick so often and because, to my delight, I realized that were I to quit smoking I would have way more money for books and music.
Laurie and I have a cigar once or twice a year. For a time I smoked a pipe when Laurie and I were first married but getting tobacco became another chore and I never really adopted it as a habit.
I like smoking. I like how it looks. I like how it feels. I like taking a few moments away from whatever else is going on. There is a zen to smoking. Sometimes I will smell someone who is smoking and still, all of these years later, it makes me kind of want to smoke. But honestly I don't think about it very often anymore. And I think that's rather the point for me.
All of these years later I still miss smoking. It was a great pleasure. As Laurie says, cigarettes have given smoking a bad rap as an occasional cigar or pipe is really no worse for you than going to a campfire. I think I look good with a pipe or a cigar. But I have a hard time imagining doing it habitually ever again. Even if we were in the black at all times.
I have no problem with the concept of Christians smoking (my brother recalls one church in Wisconsin where they had ashtrays in the armrests of the pews) any more than having ice cream or listening to popular or otherwise less than sanctified music or reading non-religious specific works. Clearly I have no problem with any of these things although I can already imagine the scathing comment my mother is probably cooking up for me saying so. Smoking was probably one of the things in my life that I did that most grieved my mother. For that I am very sorry.
As one who has a difficult time stating a specific opinion, I think I can say here and now that I am decidedly smoking neutral.
I may have arrived at deeper profundities on this topic, but I find that, rather than nicotine, I am presently being called out a slave to two canines who are demanding their basic rights to use the yard for unclean purposes. Which brings me to my point. We all serve something be it our desires, be it our obligations. The Gospel provides access to serving God which is the function that we were created to fill.
Okay. Gotta go. Es muss sein.
I started smoking cigars when I was 15 because I was eccentric (good thing that phase ended!) I moved on the cigarettes which I smoked much and often until either the age of 20 or 21 (those years are hazy for other reasons.) I quit when I was coming down with yet another in a seemingly endless series of bronchial infections. I quit because I was tired of getting sick so often and because, to my delight, I realized that were I to quit smoking I would have way more money for books and music.
Laurie and I have a cigar once or twice a year. For a time I smoked a pipe when Laurie and I were first married but getting tobacco became another chore and I never really adopted it as a habit.
I like smoking. I like how it looks. I like how it feels. I like taking a few moments away from whatever else is going on. There is a zen to smoking. Sometimes I will smell someone who is smoking and still, all of these years later, it makes me kind of want to smoke. But honestly I don't think about it very often anymore. And I think that's rather the point for me.
All of these years later I still miss smoking. It was a great pleasure. As Laurie says, cigarettes have given smoking a bad rap as an occasional cigar or pipe is really no worse for you than going to a campfire. I think I look good with a pipe or a cigar. But I have a hard time imagining doing it habitually ever again. Even if we were in the black at all times.
I have no problem with the concept of Christians smoking (my brother recalls one church in Wisconsin where they had ashtrays in the armrests of the pews) any more than having ice cream or listening to popular or otherwise less than sanctified music or reading non-religious specific works. Clearly I have no problem with any of these things although I can already imagine the scathing comment my mother is probably cooking up for me saying so. Smoking was probably one of the things in my life that I did that most grieved my mother. For that I am very sorry.
As one who has a difficult time stating a specific opinion, I think I can say here and now that I am decidedly smoking neutral.
I may have arrived at deeper profundities on this topic, but I find that, rather than nicotine, I am presently being called out a slave to two canines who are demanding their basic rights to use the yard for unclean purposes. Which brings me to my point. We all serve something be it our desires, be it our obligations. The Gospel provides access to serving God which is the function that we were created to fill.
Okay. Gotta go. Es muss sein.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Day approaches the nearest to perfection this side of the Blue
Of a Spring Afternoon, Laurie and I walked in Bidwell Park.
Gorgeous Laurie on the amazingly beautiful trail on the fantastic day. Really it was the very zenith of spring afternoons. This was taken slightly before I broke out in singing "Poisoning Pidgeons In The Park." You can tell by Laurie's face not yet saying "Oh no, he's doing something horrible again."
I seem incapable of hiking without climbing things. In this case it was the tree stump where I proposed to Laurie about, what, like almost 3 years ago.
Me on the trail.
Here is Laurie at the One Mile Pool.
Here is our Tulip Tree which I planted in our front yard.Twit
I have no idea if this will go anywhere or even what to do with it. But there is now this:http://twitter.com/paulmathers
Go follow me and I will follow you and together we will turn in a circle.
Go follow me and I will follow you and together we will turn in a circle.
Friday, April 3, 2009
Spring Cleaning of a different color
I neglected to mention that Tony was horribly sick with some kind of stomach 'flu earlier in the week. About 48 hours later, everyone who was in contact with him came down with the stomach 'flu which is to say Gina, Erika (Tony's girlfriend), Laurie and I.
I will not go into gross details (at one point Laurie and I noted to one another that we have now "been gross" together as a couple.) I will say that I threw up for the first time in almost a decade. I did go to the doctor. As I entered the nurse noticed that I was carrying a bowl, my hair was a mess and I was wearing a Les Miserables t-shirt. I went to the doctor because I was scheduled for the Downieville route at 3am this morning. There was no way I was capable of driving 10 hours in the mountains this morning but in order to take 2 days off in a row, one must return with a doctor's note.
I woke up about an hour ago with a raging headache and even more raging desire for toast,bananas, and yogurt. We are on the mend (the kids bounce back so quickly. As of last night they were already off to Farmer's Market while Laurie and I lay wailing.) I go back to work tomorrow. It is my intention to be stationary as much as possible today.
I will not go into gross details (at one point Laurie and I noted to one another that we have now "been gross" together as a couple.) I will say that I threw up for the first time in almost a decade. I did go to the doctor. As I entered the nurse noticed that I was carrying a bowl, my hair was a mess and I was wearing a Les Miserables t-shirt. I went to the doctor because I was scheduled for the Downieville route at 3am this morning. There was no way I was capable of driving 10 hours in the mountains this morning but in order to take 2 days off in a row, one must return with a doctor's note.
I woke up about an hour ago with a raging headache and even more raging desire for toast,bananas, and yogurt. We are on the mend (the kids bounce back so quickly. As of last night they were already off to Farmer's Market while Laurie and I lay wailing.) I go back to work tomorrow. It is my intention to be stationary as much as possible today.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
At least my breakfast held no disappointments
The world's leaders are meeting in London to try to solve the world economic crisis. The lives and well being of literally billions lay in the balance. The World Economic Conference in 1933, the biggest comparable summit of the kind in history, failed while seeking solutions very similar to the solutions they seem to be suggesting now. Of course, the world is quite different now. However we all have an enormous razor sharp, sword of Damocles, Question Mark hanging over our heads.
ALL major news sources are entirely concerned over whether or not a few bricks will go through a few windows and (save for Laurie and my sainted NPR) not a lick toward informing the world as to what all of this actually means (to be fair, NPR also has the brick throwing stories, they just have informative stories as well.) This should make us all furious. This should make us all demand that every major newscaster now has to report weekly to Jon Stewart for a public dressing down. I'm just throwing thoughts against the wall here, but maybe this Western culture of irresponsibility and the consequences of same has something to do with why those people are that angry in the first place. It is far easier to parrot whatever slides down the AP wire than to take the responsibility reigns and, as Newton Minnow might say, rise to the great potential for an informed and enlightened world that we have with our global media. I guess the biggest surprise is that I actually find this odd enough to remark on it.
ALL major news sources are entirely concerned over whether or not a few bricks will go through a few windows and (save for Laurie and my sainted NPR) not a lick toward informing the world as to what all of this actually means (to be fair, NPR also has the brick throwing stories, they just have informative stories as well.) This should make us all furious. This should make us all demand that every major newscaster now has to report weekly to Jon Stewart for a public dressing down. I'm just throwing thoughts against the wall here, but maybe this Western culture of irresponsibility and the consequences of same has something to do with why those people are that angry in the first place. It is far easier to parrot whatever slides down the AP wire than to take the responsibility reigns and, as Newton Minnow might say, rise to the great potential for an informed and enlightened world that we have with our global media. I guess the biggest surprise is that I actually find this odd enough to remark on it.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Rattling
When I was a child, one of my favorite films was The Neverending Story. I could probably have recited the entire film to you at one point in my childhood. One of the things that appealed to me at the time was the fantasy world, escapism, the lack of a need for peers when one has mythologies to play around with.
As I grew older I realized that one of the things that I had not even observed being a huge influence on me was the overlying theme of books that blur reality, change you, change the world around you, leak into your experiences outside of the book. I remember before falling asleep playing out stories in my head of being "saved" from school by Gandalf or Charles Xavier and taken to a place where reality was more mutable.
In my late teens and 20s I started to learn that such books did exist on some level. Robert Anton Wilson, Philip K Dick, H.P. Lovecraft and even to some extent James Joyce, Thomas Pynchon and so forth. The book I am reading right now, House of Leaves, is similar. All of them would kind of creep into reality or destroy how I look at things and rebuild it from the ground up. I imagine this is may have something to do with why I was so deeply into LSD for a time. I knew I was chasing something but I'm not sure I could have articulated what (especially when on acid.) Also I had a dream once or a vision which I don't talk about often but which gave me a glimpse behind the curtain of reality. It has haunted me all of my life. It was horrible to come back. I've told Laurie about it.
But there was always a disappointment that reality didn't really change in a Dali-esque kind of way. Blue giant beetles didn't dance on the walls.
Anyway, my spiritual walk falls under this heading as well. God kind of divinely invades His elect. The conversion of Paul is certainly one of the stories I am talking about.
I wasn't really going anywhere else with this except to explain a little about what goes on in my head, what I hunt for. I have been thinking about it since a meme I completed on my other blog earlier today.
Pardon the interruption. I guess you can set back your "Days Paul Has Gone Without Acting Utterly Berserk" calendars back to zero.
As I grew older I realized that one of the things that I had not even observed being a huge influence on me was the overlying theme of books that blur reality, change you, change the world around you, leak into your experiences outside of the book. I remember before falling asleep playing out stories in my head of being "saved" from school by Gandalf or Charles Xavier and taken to a place where reality was more mutable.
In my late teens and 20s I started to learn that such books did exist on some level. Robert Anton Wilson, Philip K Dick, H.P. Lovecraft and even to some extent James Joyce, Thomas Pynchon and so forth. The book I am reading right now, House of Leaves, is similar. All of them would kind of creep into reality or destroy how I look at things and rebuild it from the ground up. I imagine this is may have something to do with why I was so deeply into LSD for a time. I knew I was chasing something but I'm not sure I could have articulated what (especially when on acid.) Also I had a dream once or a vision which I don't talk about often but which gave me a glimpse behind the curtain of reality. It has haunted me all of my life. It was horrible to come back. I've told Laurie about it.
But there was always a disappointment that reality didn't really change in a Dali-esque kind of way. Blue giant beetles didn't dance on the walls.
Anyway, my spiritual walk falls under this heading as well. God kind of divinely invades His elect. The conversion of Paul is certainly one of the stories I am talking about.
I wasn't really going anywhere else with this except to explain a little about what goes on in my head, what I hunt for. I have been thinking about it since a meme I completed on my other blog earlier today.
Pardon the interruption. I guess you can set back your "Days Paul Has Gone Without Acting Utterly Berserk" calendars back to zero.
P.S.
My mother had a dream where she came to visit Laurie and my house. We were at work and across the street were the bums from the last post (although she has not seen those bums on this side of The Dreaming.) So she went over to my brother's house with a tub which she filled with goat droppings. She brought it back and fertilized our lawn in the hot sun. Which, needless to say, took care of the bum problem.
I have to admit that I seriously considered this option when she told me her dream.
I have to admit that I seriously considered this option when she told me her dream.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Apocatastasis is my middle name
It was not a quiet week in Lake Wobegon. As anyone who reads Laurie's blog knows, we have been having experiences which I will relate in brief and then discuss some unexpected side effects. Warning: this may be way more interesting to me than it is to you. Or perhaps you will get something out of this, a few moments diversion, and possibly a lesson in what to do and what not to do should you find yourself in similar circumstances.
Also, this will most likely prove to be a very long post.
We live behind a motel and across the street from us is their back wall. In the past several months, slowly and steadily, homeless people who own vehicles have parked across from our house for days, weeks, and in one case around 2 months. These are not those forced from work through massive layoff. These are not the victims of the tanking economy. These are people who have lived their entire adult life in pursuit of methamphetamines and other intoxicants. You may think it unkind for me to practice what sounds like casting aspersions on their character, but I assure you there is a point coming in this story where all of the characters involved (except for me, of course) smoke speed or possibly crack directly in front of me. To put it in Biblical terms, this is not "The Poor" that I am talking about. This is "the slothful man."
Mainly these people seem to have the last vestiges of wisdom to at least A) not bother the people who live here legitimately and B) not do and/or sell their drugs in full view of the people who live here legitimately. Or, at least, that was the case at first.
There are about 5-8 vehicles that alternate and on a few rather stifling occasions all end up here at once.
So, early on Laurie and I decided that, property values aside, they are not directly hurting us and we would rather save our "cry wolf" card with the police for when wolves are at the door.
There were two vehicles in particular that started to scream "problem" to us. One was a brown van that showed up for one day and, in essence, threw a party of tweakers directly across the street from our house. They shouted things at my family when family members were in the yard. They left within 24 hours and have yet to return.
The second red flag of a vehicle was a truck with a camper. This is the one where, about a month ago, I was walking Gina (that is my step-daughter for the newbies on this blog) out to her car after dark and someone wolf whistled at her. I went around the front of the house. Dude was sitting in the shadows across the street by the truck and camper and started cussing me out loudly. I called the police. The police came by. The truck remained and returned often although no more profanities or threats greeted us for the time being.
Over the past few weeks the man in the truck had grown far more bold in selling drugs from the back of his camper. Or, rather, we had observed people who had every physical feature associated with advanced methamphetamine abusers entering the back of his camper and leaving a few minutes later or simply knocking on the door, giving the man folded up paper, receiving small baggies which they stuff in their pocket as they leave. We naturally took this to mean that illegal drugs were being exchanged for cash, goods or services and I still see no reason to think we were mistaken in that conclusion.
Finally as we were planting our new magnolia tree (more on that in other posts very soon) I saw a car pull up to the camper full of tweakers and I watched them. In fact I did not break focus once and they grew more and more nervous as they talked. They kept looking over at me and looking away quickly. Finally they all entered the back of the camper.
The next morning Laurie called the police station's non-emergency number asking for increased patrols. When I came home... I should probably break for a moment here and add that when I came home Laurie told me that our tax return was deposited and now we had the few thousand we need to pay our property tax. Meanwhile, directly across the street...
I went out on the porch to read and the tweakers were out on the curb directly across the street on lawn chairs. They were passing around a joint. The guy with the truck left to walk to the liquor store. He brought back two forty ounce bottles of malt liquor which he gave to two of the men there. But before he did he turned, looked directly at me, and yelled out a profane suggestion (or command I suppose) for me to lay lips upon a portion of his anatomy interspersed with a word used for scatological emphasis which describes the act of copulation and rendered all the more profane being coupled with reference to maternity. And then he flipped me off. And they drank without bags. And then the pipe fashioned from aluminum foil came out and was passed. All of this on the curb of the street, all of this as I sat on my front porch, all of this directly in front of me. So I stayed there for a long time and watched allowing them to get good and intoxicated in their brazen scoff-lawery.
Then I came inside and had a good old fashioned freak out. I called my parents and my brother. My brother offered very good suggestions on how to deal with them as my brother, some of you may know, worked with indigents for many years as the director of a local soup kitchen before he was ordained. My parents offered the very good admonition that in the future one ought to avoid staring down drug dealers. Which, on one hand I took to heart and shall endeavor to follow all the days of my life that remain, on the other hand struck me with the realization that I had not handled the drug dealer well nor wisely. My brother suggested 2 things, one of which I did immediately, the other I shall do Monday on normal business hours. The first was to call the police, tell them everything I just told you, sprinkle in the phrase "I'm a home owner," and others like "I just want peace in my home and to be able to sit on my porch of a pleasant Spring evening without being sworn at and watching people smoke crack" and "I work early and my wife is here alone" and "I'm afraid for the safety of my family" and "threatened" and so on. And be very polite and well spoken to the dispatcher. Pat said along with the benefits of the police running these people off immediately, there would be the added benefit that word would get around in homeless circles that people in this area will call the police on you. The other thing he suggested strongly was calling the local soup kitchen, describing these people, telling the kitchen that if they are serving these people they are in code violation (the kitchen operated with the code that they employ a private patrol to keep their clients from camping in the surrounding neighborhoods and that they may not provide services for anyone who is camping in said neighborhoods.) In other words, cut off their food supply and they will move on.
When the cops came the people across the street, well, most of them fled immediately. The guy in the truck and two of his guests first turned into simpering fools and then into belligerent jackasses. I told Laurie that they were falling apart and that it did not look good for them. Meanwhile the cop picked up bits off of the street where they had been smoking crack or whatever. Also the cop caught one of the guys hiding something however he did not, sadly, recover whatever the man had hidden. Another officer pulled up. One came to my door and told me that the vagrants would be leaving within a few minutes. After the cops left, the guy stayed all night, but did not make a sound all night and left the next morning. He has not returned as of my writing this although both Laurie and I have observed him walking in the neighborhood within the past 48 hours. The police patrolling has increased and we may enjoy a few months of peace in our home, Lord willing.
So, I came away from this experience with 2 personal lessons. The first was upon some self-reflection the next morning at work. I realized that I need to bridle my tongue a little better and refrain from profane utterances for my own sense of decency, for my own ability to look myself in the eye in the mirror in the morning. Not in some weird, legalistic, finger wagging sort of way. And not that God isn't gracious to those of his elect who occasionally, accidentally drop F bombs directly after dropping heavy things on their toes. Or those who occasionally burst out into a bawdy tune or delight in the occasional double entendre. But I felt conviction after seeing what kind of life lays about 400 miles down a road that I occasionally take a few steps on. Or, put another way, Laurie and I recently had a conversation about racist jokes and about how one can't shake the Devil's hand and say they're only kidding. In short, seeing depravity to the point where zero regard for law, decency, morality exist filled me with a desire to nail my sanctification to my own forehead in hopes that I can more constantly set my eyes on it.
The other thing I kept thinking about, that kept nagging at me, was what kind of a man I've become. A few years ago I would not call the police for anything short of violent crime being committed against me personally. Now I'm using words like "property values" and I am using words like "bums." And I thought about what a bourgeois, suburban sell-out Paul of 12 years ago would think of modern day Paul.
"What's the matter, man? You used to be cool!"
But I think I came to a place of peace over this last night in talking to a friend of ours from the next block over (where they do not have these sorts of problems.) We were talking about (and later I followed the thought to include) improving the community through keeping a nice yard, planting things, going on walks, using and supporting the library, supporting the local NPR station during their current pledge drive and so on. There's a concept in my spiritual walk called Apocatastatis. You can trace this concept through Christian spirituality (although it is not entirely peculiar to us and you will also find it rich in Gnosticism.) Hopefully not to put it in too poetic of terms but it means the transformation of the infernal to the celestial. Which rather strikes me as being a description of the Gospel. My namesake's story is certainly a textbook example of the concept.
I think I can say that crack is not a good force in the world. I am coming out right here and now as anti-crack cocaine and anti-methamphetamine abuse. I think I can also say that able bodied men ought to do their best to work at a job which supports them financially if possible or, if not possible, seek to find employment. I know the times in which we live. I know that jobs are scarce and that people are being laid off left and right. Believe me, I am hyper-aware that this could just as well happen to me. However, I am not talking about that or those people. I am talking about people on curbs with crack and bad beer. And don't even get me started on my hypothesis that bad people drink bad beer.
Brightening the world around you in any way you can not only expands the light (sorry to get all Quaker in my lingo) but in doing so the cockroaches tend to flee more to the darkness. We realized as we talked to my friend from around the block that had we a motion light on our garage, the graffiti (of the territorial peeing variety, not of the art variety) that appeared on the side of our neighbor's garage last week probably would not have appeared. Light drives away darkness.
I hasten to add that the Gospel is a message in words. It is that we are all depraved sinners who fall short of God but that God, in His grace, sent His Son to atone for the sins of those who believe in Him. I do not believe, nor does Laurie, in the (probably apocryphal anyway) St. Francis quote of "Preach the Gospel. Use words if necessary." No, Frank, it is in words (or rather Apocryphal Frank. I think I just came up with a new band name.) Expressing the Gospel in words is necessary. Seeking to do good in the world is an expression of one in whom grace has been shown. One will not communicate the Gospel message through giving out cold bottles of water on a hot day without also communicating the Gospel, passing a tract with the bottle, or at the very least identifying yourself as being a part of a congregation where one could learn more if one were so inclined. Any number of reality tunnels can lead one to do something that ameliorates the community. This is not salvific and does not communicate the means to salvation although it can be the natural expression of one who experiences the infinite mercies of God.
So, I do want to do good and I do want to spread the gospel. Working to keep my area tidy, safe, and beautiful does make the world a better place. Did I forward the Gospel? Well, maybe not directly in the story, but the story did give an opportunity to talk about it. Did I handle the experience well? Mixed. I think it worked out well. I think I learned some valuable lessons. Hopefully you did too. I am sure I should not have stared the drug dealers down (lesson learned.) And boy oh boy you have no idea how much freaking out I did when the police were in transit. Laurie called my brother to come over and talk me down.
More soon.
Also, this will most likely prove to be a very long post.
We live behind a motel and across the street from us is their back wall. In the past several months, slowly and steadily, homeless people who own vehicles have parked across from our house for days, weeks, and in one case around 2 months. These are not those forced from work through massive layoff. These are not the victims of the tanking economy. These are people who have lived their entire adult life in pursuit of methamphetamines and other intoxicants. You may think it unkind for me to practice what sounds like casting aspersions on their character, but I assure you there is a point coming in this story where all of the characters involved (except for me, of course) smoke speed or possibly crack directly in front of me. To put it in Biblical terms, this is not "The Poor" that I am talking about. This is "the slothful man."
Mainly these people seem to have the last vestiges of wisdom to at least A) not bother the people who live here legitimately and B) not do and/or sell their drugs in full view of the people who live here legitimately. Or, at least, that was the case at first.
There are about 5-8 vehicles that alternate and on a few rather stifling occasions all end up here at once.
So, early on Laurie and I decided that, property values aside, they are not directly hurting us and we would rather save our "cry wolf" card with the police for when wolves are at the door.
There were two vehicles in particular that started to scream "problem" to us. One was a brown van that showed up for one day and, in essence, threw a party of tweakers directly across the street from our house. They shouted things at my family when family members were in the yard. They left within 24 hours and have yet to return.
The second red flag of a vehicle was a truck with a camper. This is the one where, about a month ago, I was walking Gina (that is my step-daughter for the newbies on this blog) out to her car after dark and someone wolf whistled at her. I went around the front of the house. Dude was sitting in the shadows across the street by the truck and camper and started cussing me out loudly. I called the police. The police came by. The truck remained and returned often although no more profanities or threats greeted us for the time being.
Over the past few weeks the man in the truck had grown far more bold in selling drugs from the back of his camper. Or, rather, we had observed people who had every physical feature associated with advanced methamphetamine abusers entering the back of his camper and leaving a few minutes later or simply knocking on the door, giving the man folded up paper, receiving small baggies which they stuff in their pocket as they leave. We naturally took this to mean that illegal drugs were being exchanged for cash, goods or services and I still see no reason to think we were mistaken in that conclusion.
Finally as we were planting our new magnolia tree (more on that in other posts very soon) I saw a car pull up to the camper full of tweakers and I watched them. In fact I did not break focus once and they grew more and more nervous as they talked. They kept looking over at me and looking away quickly. Finally they all entered the back of the camper.
The next morning Laurie called the police station's non-emergency number asking for increased patrols. When I came home... I should probably break for a moment here and add that when I came home Laurie told me that our tax return was deposited and now we had the few thousand we need to pay our property tax. Meanwhile, directly across the street...
I went out on the porch to read and the tweakers were out on the curb directly across the street on lawn chairs. They were passing around a joint. The guy with the truck left to walk to the liquor store. He brought back two forty ounce bottles of malt liquor which he gave to two of the men there. But before he did he turned, looked directly at me, and yelled out a profane suggestion (or command I suppose) for me to lay lips upon a portion of his anatomy interspersed with a word used for scatological emphasis which describes the act of copulation and rendered all the more profane being coupled with reference to maternity. And then he flipped me off. And they drank without bags. And then the pipe fashioned from aluminum foil came out and was passed. All of this on the curb of the street, all of this as I sat on my front porch, all of this directly in front of me. So I stayed there for a long time and watched allowing them to get good and intoxicated in their brazen scoff-lawery.
Then I came inside and had a good old fashioned freak out. I called my parents and my brother. My brother offered very good suggestions on how to deal with them as my brother, some of you may know, worked with indigents for many years as the director of a local soup kitchen before he was ordained. My parents offered the very good admonition that in the future one ought to avoid staring down drug dealers. Which, on one hand I took to heart and shall endeavor to follow all the days of my life that remain, on the other hand struck me with the realization that I had not handled the drug dealer well nor wisely. My brother suggested 2 things, one of which I did immediately, the other I shall do Monday on normal business hours. The first was to call the police, tell them everything I just told you, sprinkle in the phrase "I'm a home owner," and others like "I just want peace in my home and to be able to sit on my porch of a pleasant Spring evening without being sworn at and watching people smoke crack" and "I work early and my wife is here alone" and "I'm afraid for the safety of my family" and "threatened" and so on. And be very polite and well spoken to the dispatcher. Pat said along with the benefits of the police running these people off immediately, there would be the added benefit that word would get around in homeless circles that people in this area will call the police on you. The other thing he suggested strongly was calling the local soup kitchen, describing these people, telling the kitchen that if they are serving these people they are in code violation (the kitchen operated with the code that they employ a private patrol to keep their clients from camping in the surrounding neighborhoods and that they may not provide services for anyone who is camping in said neighborhoods.) In other words, cut off their food supply and they will move on.
When the cops came the people across the street, well, most of them fled immediately. The guy in the truck and two of his guests first turned into simpering fools and then into belligerent jackasses. I told Laurie that they were falling apart and that it did not look good for them. Meanwhile the cop picked up bits off of the street where they had been smoking crack or whatever. Also the cop caught one of the guys hiding something however he did not, sadly, recover whatever the man had hidden. Another officer pulled up. One came to my door and told me that the vagrants would be leaving within a few minutes. After the cops left, the guy stayed all night, but did not make a sound all night and left the next morning. He has not returned as of my writing this although both Laurie and I have observed him walking in the neighborhood within the past 48 hours. The police patrolling has increased and we may enjoy a few months of peace in our home, Lord willing.
So, I came away from this experience with 2 personal lessons. The first was upon some self-reflection the next morning at work. I realized that I need to bridle my tongue a little better and refrain from profane utterances for my own sense of decency, for my own ability to look myself in the eye in the mirror in the morning. Not in some weird, legalistic, finger wagging sort of way. And not that God isn't gracious to those of his elect who occasionally, accidentally drop F bombs directly after dropping heavy things on their toes. Or those who occasionally burst out into a bawdy tune or delight in the occasional double entendre. But I felt conviction after seeing what kind of life lays about 400 miles down a road that I occasionally take a few steps on. Or, put another way, Laurie and I recently had a conversation about racist jokes and about how one can't shake the Devil's hand and say they're only kidding. In short, seeing depravity to the point where zero regard for law, decency, morality exist filled me with a desire to nail my sanctification to my own forehead in hopes that I can more constantly set my eyes on it.
The other thing I kept thinking about, that kept nagging at me, was what kind of a man I've become. A few years ago I would not call the police for anything short of violent crime being committed against me personally. Now I'm using words like "property values" and I am using words like "bums." And I thought about what a bourgeois, suburban sell-out Paul of 12 years ago would think of modern day Paul.
"What's the matter, man? You used to be cool!"
But I think I came to a place of peace over this last night in talking to a friend of ours from the next block over (where they do not have these sorts of problems.) We were talking about (and later I followed the thought to include) improving the community through keeping a nice yard, planting things, going on walks, using and supporting the library, supporting the local NPR station during their current pledge drive and so on. There's a concept in my spiritual walk called Apocatastatis. You can trace this concept through Christian spirituality (although it is not entirely peculiar to us and you will also find it rich in Gnosticism.) Hopefully not to put it in too poetic of terms but it means the transformation of the infernal to the celestial. Which rather strikes me as being a description of the Gospel. My namesake's story is certainly a textbook example of the concept.
I think I can say that crack is not a good force in the world. I am coming out right here and now as anti-crack cocaine and anti-methamphetamine abuse. I think I can also say that able bodied men ought to do their best to work at a job which supports them financially if possible or, if not possible, seek to find employment. I know the times in which we live. I know that jobs are scarce and that people are being laid off left and right. Believe me, I am hyper-aware that this could just as well happen to me. However, I am not talking about that or those people. I am talking about people on curbs with crack and bad beer. And don't even get me started on my hypothesis that bad people drink bad beer.
Brightening the world around you in any way you can not only expands the light (sorry to get all Quaker in my lingo) but in doing so the cockroaches tend to flee more to the darkness. We realized as we talked to my friend from around the block that had we a motion light on our garage, the graffiti (of the territorial peeing variety, not of the art variety) that appeared on the side of our neighbor's garage last week probably would not have appeared. Light drives away darkness.
I hasten to add that the Gospel is a message in words. It is that we are all depraved sinners who fall short of God but that God, in His grace, sent His Son to atone for the sins of those who believe in Him. I do not believe, nor does Laurie, in the (probably apocryphal anyway) St. Francis quote of "Preach the Gospel. Use words if necessary." No, Frank, it is in words (or rather Apocryphal Frank. I think I just came up with a new band name.) Expressing the Gospel in words is necessary. Seeking to do good in the world is an expression of one in whom grace has been shown. One will not communicate the Gospel message through giving out cold bottles of water on a hot day without also communicating the Gospel, passing a tract with the bottle, or at the very least identifying yourself as being a part of a congregation where one could learn more if one were so inclined. Any number of reality tunnels can lead one to do something that ameliorates the community. This is not salvific and does not communicate the means to salvation although it can be the natural expression of one who experiences the infinite mercies of God.
So, I do want to do good and I do want to spread the gospel. Working to keep my area tidy, safe, and beautiful does make the world a better place. Did I forward the Gospel? Well, maybe not directly in the story, but the story did give an opportunity to talk about it. Did I handle the experience well? Mixed. I think it worked out well. I think I learned some valuable lessons. Hopefully you did too. I am sure I should not have stared the drug dealers down (lesson learned.) And boy oh boy you have no idea how much freaking out I did when the police were in transit. Laurie called my brother to come over and talk me down.
More soon.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Walking season begins
It is my day off and it was tooth cleaning day. I have five cavities. This should surprise no one.
We went to the library. We got Cinema Paradiso and Macbeth to watch. I borrowed a Daniel Handler book and I think Laurie borrowed a Nicholas Baker book.
We did manage to get a nice walk in this afternoon. It is decidedly Spring in Chico (although the cold part of Spring at night.) Those who know me know that I love hiking so this was an exciting taste of things to come.
Monday, March 23, 2009
my verdict
I've seen all the major film versions of Hamlet. Branagh, Olivier, Gibson, I even have a VHS tape of the Mystery Science Theater version of that weird German TV one. Branagh's is the most visually beautiful for sure although I thought there were some uneven performances by the supporters (really, starting the film with Jack Lemmon trying to do Shakespeare?)
But now I can say that I think that the BBC version with Derek Jacobi and Patrick Stewart is the best film version of Hamlet.
We will be turning it back in to the library on Wednesday so those of you in Chico can wrassle over who gets to borrow it next.
But now I can say that I think that the BBC version with Derek Jacobi and Patrick Stewart is the best film version of Hamlet.
We will be turning it back in to the library on Wednesday so those of you in Chico can wrassle over who gets to borrow it next.
Blues for AIG
I've been thinking a lot about the AIG "scandal" lately. Partly because Laurie and I are rabid NPR listeners and, like most other news outlets, they are squeezing every drop from that turnip. Or, rather, they were. They seemed to have calmed down a bit since the president went on a popular entertainment show and announced that we are going to begin practicing taxation without representation as millions cheered him on.
Yes. It's going to be that kind of a blog by the way.
But also because I've been teaching a class on the history of the Puritans. I felt that American culture and my own stack of misgivings behooved me to tackle the subject of the Salem Witch Trials fairly early on in the class. In studying for that class, the personal conclusion that I came to was that the trials had little to do with the religious group in particular or rather that the doctrines of Puritanism were kind of arbitrary as this is something that happens in small, isolated groups with 1) rigid, immovable dogma and 2) threats to something they find important. The witch hunts didn't happen because of Puritanism, it happened because of people getting worked into a very unhealthy mindset. I am not the first to make this observation. Arthur Miller's career took off from making this observation. And then he had an affair which lead to a marriage with Marilyn Monroe. With a later wife he had a Downs Syndrome child who he institutionalized and refused to have any contact with. All of which has nothing to do with what I'm talking about. Or does it?
I have an internet friend who works for AIG as a web designer. He is not getting a huge bonus. He is working for the most hated company in the world right now. I keep hearing about employees getting threats, fearing for their lives while simultaneously sharing everyone's privilege of fearing for their jobs. I hear about employees receiving anonymous notes saying that the author of the note is going to garrot them and their children. And blogs which show the AIG building in the skyline with some rather sinister invitations to less stable individuals which recall a September morn in New York 8 years gone.
And as for the AIG bailouts... I don't even know where to start with how messed up this has been handled by the media, the American public and the government. You think the banks and other divers and sundry lenders have mismanaged things? Well, wait until we get our hands on reacting to it. Taxation, contracts, way inflating the numbers to fuel public outrage, seeking any scapegoat and misdirection for a terrified and often recently unemployed or foreclosed upon public. On and on it goes.
Witch hunts happen. They are evil and sick and hateful, sure. But they happen.
Which brings me to my main point and that is that the concept of sin disappearing even from common Christian circles strikes me as one of the more disturbing trends I see today. I remember the point of my conversion when I was in my early 20s. The pastor of the Quaker church I was attending started talking about how everyone is a sinner and all fall short of the glory of God. And I remember sitting there thinking "This is true. I see this all around me and in myself constantly. This is the first theological point that has ever made sense to me."
There's another dangerous trend in Christian circles, actually possibly a more dangerous trend and without a doubt one that has been around far longer than the abolition of the doctrine of Original Sin or Total Depravity, that I notice. It is the trend in Christians to say/believe/react to the world with "Hate the sin, not the sinner."
This is entirely unscriptural.
The problem with "hate the sin, not the sinner" is that it comes across to the sinner as hating the sinner. As Laurie put it it's like saying "I sure do love sin fountains. I hate the stuff that's pouring out of them all the time though." Sin is what a sinner does. We are all sinners. Scripturally it goes "Love the sinner. I am a sinner too no better than anyone else. I was saved by grace alone, by no work I did. I am no better than anyone else and I love you." No matter how good you become, no matter how sanctified you get, you are no better of a person than the most rank sinner. You need to love them. You are commanded to. And none of this "but hate the sin" crap. Don't make excuses to hate and don't use God as an excuse to have no contact with people you don't like or disagree with.
People are people just like you and I no matter what they do, how they live, or who they are. Get over yourself.
And I have to say this partly to myself. I like to think that I love my fellow man. But the street around my house has been discovered by the "homeless with a vehicle" population as some kind of safeplace. Our house is surrounded by jalopies. They sit outside of them in lawn chairs on the curb behind the motel across the street. They wolf whistle and shout profanities at everyone (including my wife and step-daughter when they are in the yard.) I turn instantly into Archie Bunker when they are around right down to referring to them as "dem bums" or "does bums over dere." This is a fault on my part (although my pride makes me hasten to add that these are not "hard workers thrown cruelly out of a job." These are people selling meth out of the vehicles. These are people who long before any of this started chose "public intoxication and public urination" as occupations.) I am no better than the worst of them (which is the guy with the mustache and the long hair.)
In short, there are a few things that we can be sure of. One, I'm fairly certain, we can be certain that the financial crises in our country is going to get worse. I don't know if it's going to get "rioting for food" worse or just "we used to have a million dollar home, now we are in a low-rent apartment and only have basic cable" worse.
And, another thing we can be sure of is the truth of the passage I am still working on memorizing:
"Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher, vanity of vanities! All is vanity. What does man gain by all the toil at which he toils under the sun? A generation goes, and a generation comes, but the earth remains forever. The sun rises, and the sun goes down, and hastens to the place where it rises. The wind blows to the south and goes around to the north;around and around goes the wind, and on its circuits the wind returns. All streams run to the sea, but the sea is not full;to the place where the streams flow, there they flow again. All things are full of weariness; a man cannot utter it; the eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing. What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done, and there is nothing new under the sun. Is there a thing of which it is said, "See, this is new"?It has been already in the ages before us. There is no remembrance of former things, nor will there be any remembrance of later things yet to be among those who come after."
Yes. It's going to be that kind of a blog by the way.
But also because I've been teaching a class on the history of the Puritans. I felt that American culture and my own stack of misgivings behooved me to tackle the subject of the Salem Witch Trials fairly early on in the class. In studying for that class, the personal conclusion that I came to was that the trials had little to do with the religious group in particular or rather that the doctrines of Puritanism were kind of arbitrary as this is something that happens in small, isolated groups with 1) rigid, immovable dogma and 2) threats to something they find important. The witch hunts didn't happen because of Puritanism, it happened because of people getting worked into a very unhealthy mindset. I am not the first to make this observation. Arthur Miller's career took off from making this observation. And then he had an affair which lead to a marriage with Marilyn Monroe. With a later wife he had a Downs Syndrome child who he institutionalized and refused to have any contact with. All of which has nothing to do with what I'm talking about. Or does it?
I have an internet friend who works for AIG as a web designer. He is not getting a huge bonus. He is working for the most hated company in the world right now. I keep hearing about employees getting threats, fearing for their lives while simultaneously sharing everyone's privilege of fearing for their jobs. I hear about employees receiving anonymous notes saying that the author of the note is going to garrot them and their children. And blogs which show the AIG building in the skyline with some rather sinister invitations to less stable individuals which recall a September morn in New York 8 years gone.
And as for the AIG bailouts... I don't even know where to start with how messed up this has been handled by the media, the American public and the government. You think the banks and other divers and sundry lenders have mismanaged things? Well, wait until we get our hands on reacting to it. Taxation, contracts, way inflating the numbers to fuel public outrage, seeking any scapegoat and misdirection for a terrified and often recently unemployed or foreclosed upon public. On and on it goes.
Witch hunts happen. They are evil and sick and hateful, sure. But they happen.
Which brings me to my main point and that is that the concept of sin disappearing even from common Christian circles strikes me as one of the more disturbing trends I see today. I remember the point of my conversion when I was in my early 20s. The pastor of the Quaker church I was attending started talking about how everyone is a sinner and all fall short of the glory of God. And I remember sitting there thinking "This is true. I see this all around me and in myself constantly. This is the first theological point that has ever made sense to me."
There's another dangerous trend in Christian circles, actually possibly a more dangerous trend and without a doubt one that has been around far longer than the abolition of the doctrine of Original Sin or Total Depravity, that I notice. It is the trend in Christians to say/believe/react to the world with "Hate the sin, not the sinner."
This is entirely unscriptural.
The problem with "hate the sin, not the sinner" is that it comes across to the sinner as hating the sinner. As Laurie put it it's like saying "I sure do love sin fountains. I hate the stuff that's pouring out of them all the time though." Sin is what a sinner does. We are all sinners. Scripturally it goes "Love the sinner. I am a sinner too no better than anyone else. I was saved by grace alone, by no work I did. I am no better than anyone else and I love you." No matter how good you become, no matter how sanctified you get, you are no better of a person than the most rank sinner. You need to love them. You are commanded to. And none of this "but hate the sin" crap. Don't make excuses to hate and don't use God as an excuse to have no contact with people you don't like or disagree with.
People are people just like you and I no matter what they do, how they live, or who they are. Get over yourself.
And I have to say this partly to myself. I like to think that I love my fellow man. But the street around my house has been discovered by the "homeless with a vehicle" population as some kind of safeplace. Our house is surrounded by jalopies. They sit outside of them in lawn chairs on the curb behind the motel across the street. They wolf whistle and shout profanities at everyone (including my wife and step-daughter when they are in the yard.) I turn instantly into Archie Bunker when they are around right down to referring to them as "dem bums" or "does bums over dere." This is a fault on my part (although my pride makes me hasten to add that these are not "hard workers thrown cruelly out of a job." These are people selling meth out of the vehicles. These are people who long before any of this started chose "public intoxication and public urination" as occupations.) I am no better than the worst of them (which is the guy with the mustache and the long hair.)
In short, there are a few things that we can be sure of. One, I'm fairly certain, we can be certain that the financial crises in our country is going to get worse. I don't know if it's going to get "rioting for food" worse or just "we used to have a million dollar home, now we are in a low-rent apartment and only have basic cable" worse.
And, another thing we can be sure of is the truth of the passage I am still working on memorizing:
"Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher, vanity of vanities! All is vanity. What does man gain by all the toil at which he toils under the sun? A generation goes, and a generation comes, but the earth remains forever. The sun rises, and the sun goes down, and hastens to the place where it rises. The wind blows to the south and goes around to the north;around and around goes the wind, and on its circuits the wind returns. All streams run to the sea, but the sea is not full;to the place where the streams flow, there they flow again. All things are full of weariness; a man cannot utter it; the eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing. What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done, and there is nothing new under the sun. Is there a thing of which it is said, "See, this is new"?It has been already in the ages before us. There is no remembrance of former things, nor will there be any remembrance of later things yet to be among those who come after."
Saturday, March 21, 2009
The Impoverished Snob
Laurie and I are in the habit of hitting the library on Wednesdays. We usually get two movies and very often trade around the books we are borrowing. Of course if you get a clunker, you have paid nothing for it and can simply trade it out for something better (or worse.) Libraries trump bookstores for the adventurous reader.
You may ask why a couple with over 6,000 books in stock in their used book business borrow from the library... But I'm not sure I have a clear answer to that aside from right at the moment we do not own copies of A Wolf At The Table by Augusten Burroughs or The World Without Us by Alan Weisman and I found that I must read those immediately. Something to do with the remnants of our instant gratification culture to a couple which can afford next to nothing.
Which brings me to my second point.
If I had the unending supply of money I would be one of those freaks who travels the world to attend Wagner's Ring Cycles like they were Grateful Dead concerts. I would turn to the people next to me and say "yes, this is my 36th Ring Cycle and we already have tickets for Bayreuth next year."
The Chico Public Library has a collection of operas by Richard Wagner. I don't know why. As far as we can tell, they don't have any other operas. They aren't all the same company or put out by the same label. But I'm not complaining or looking that gift horse in the mouth mind you. We saw Die Meistersinger with Donald MacIntyre as Hans Sachs. He was fantastic. The film production was very good (they pretty much just filmed the opera.) The supporting cast was merely adequate.
We just watched Der fliegende Holländer which was wonderful and we enjoyed (with few misgivings) quite a bit more. I think it's a much stronger work. The entire cast was amazing. It was really quite wonderful except for one thing that almost completely destroyed any enjoyment. The filming was horrid. They kept superimposing waves over the action. They would replay the same close up of a character over and over while they were actually singing onstage (which, call me crazy, might be something the audience might be interested in seeing.) Sometimes they would cut completely from the main action to show reaction shots of other characters, which is fine when done properly. This was not that kind of production. As a side note to long time friends and supporters, this is exactly why I did not allow filming of my one-man show.
And, of course, no one gets to see these productions live anymore so it's kind of like finding a treasure chest in the attic.
They also have the complete works of Shakespeare from the BBC from I'm thinking the 1980s. We saw John Cleese in The Taming of the Shrew. We also watched a strangely extremely homo-erotic production of The Tempest. We are now watching Hamlet with Derek Jacobi and Patrick Stewart. Win.
There is the perrennial problem that the characters from La Boheme would not be able to afford to go and see a production of La Boheme.
Go to your library. These are times when the arts suffer, but there are so many resources out there that one need not go without. There are podcasts. There is a wealth of resources available to anyone.
If I end up having a podcast at some point, I will probably do one along the lines of what I'm talking about here.
Continuing the awkward move into this blog, I posted a Glenn Gould sort of tie-in with this post on the other blog: http://possumbane.livejournal.com/481161.html
You may ask why a couple with over 6,000 books in stock in their used book business borrow from the library... But I'm not sure I have a clear answer to that aside from right at the moment we do not own copies of A Wolf At The Table by Augusten Burroughs or The World Without Us by Alan Weisman and I found that I must read those immediately. Something to do with the remnants of our instant gratification culture to a couple which can afford next to nothing.
Which brings me to my second point.
If I had the unending supply of money I would be one of those freaks who travels the world to attend Wagner's Ring Cycles like they were Grateful Dead concerts. I would turn to the people next to me and say "yes, this is my 36th Ring Cycle and we already have tickets for Bayreuth next year."
The Chico Public Library has a collection of operas by Richard Wagner. I don't know why. As far as we can tell, they don't have any other operas. They aren't all the same company or put out by the same label. But I'm not complaining or looking that gift horse in the mouth mind you. We saw Die Meistersinger with Donald MacIntyre as Hans Sachs. He was fantastic. The film production was very good (they pretty much just filmed the opera.) The supporting cast was merely adequate.
We just watched Der fliegende Holländer which was wonderful and we enjoyed (with few misgivings) quite a bit more. I think it's a much stronger work. The entire cast was amazing. It was really quite wonderful except for one thing that almost completely destroyed any enjoyment. The filming was horrid. They kept superimposing waves over the action. They would replay the same close up of a character over and over while they were actually singing onstage (which, call me crazy, might be something the audience might be interested in seeing.) Sometimes they would cut completely from the main action to show reaction shots of other characters, which is fine when done properly. This was not that kind of production. As a side note to long time friends and supporters, this is exactly why I did not allow filming of my one-man show.
And, of course, no one gets to see these productions live anymore so it's kind of like finding a treasure chest in the attic.
They also have the complete works of Shakespeare from the BBC from I'm thinking the 1980s. We saw John Cleese in The Taming of the Shrew. We also watched a strangely extremely homo-erotic production of The Tempest. We are now watching Hamlet with Derek Jacobi and Patrick Stewart. Win.
There is the perrennial problem that the characters from La Boheme would not be able to afford to go and see a production of La Boheme.
Go to your library. These are times when the arts suffer, but there are so many resources out there that one need not go without. There are podcasts. There is a wealth of resources available to anyone.
If I end up having a podcast at some point, I will probably do one along the lines of what I'm talking about here.
Continuing the awkward move into this blog, I posted a Glenn Gould sort of tie-in with this post on the other blog: http://possumbane.livejournal.com/481161.html
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Stilted Welcomes, Everyone!
Hello. I'm Paul Mathers. Some of you know me as Laurie's husband. Some as Possumbane from Livejournal and still others not at all. Welcome all.
I had a Livejournal for years. It slowly degenerated into pretty much what most people do with Tumblr (i.e. use it to show people beautiful and cool stuff, photos, videos, poems and quotes with very little original material.) Slowly weighing my options over time I decided, with all the fast action of a glacier, to start a Blogger to house anything of original thought, any opinion, or any personal update that I put into blog form and keep the Livejournal pretty much for what I've already been using it for. If you want to see the pretty things: http://possumbane.livejournal.com
Which means that this will most likely be my primary and then only blog but so be it.
So, I guess the next step is to get to friending people and assure those people that more exciting blogs will follow presently.
I had a Livejournal for years. It slowly degenerated into pretty much what most people do with Tumblr (i.e. use it to show people beautiful and cool stuff, photos, videos, poems and quotes with very little original material.) Slowly weighing my options over time I decided, with all the fast action of a glacier, to start a Blogger to house anything of original thought, any opinion, or any personal update that I put into blog form and keep the Livejournal pretty much for what I've already been using it for. If you want to see the pretty things: http://possumbane.livejournal.com
Which means that this will most likely be my primary and then only blog but so be it.
So, I guess the next step is to get to friending people and assure those people that more exciting blogs will follow presently.
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