Piece of Mind

Here’s something I’ve been learning:

I have what I have today because it’s what I’ve been thinking about for years.

My family.  My home.  My occupation.  My emotions.

I am and I have what I think about.

Proverbs 23:7 – “For as [a man] thinketh in his heart, so is he”

Galatians 6:7 – “A man reaps what he sows.”

Think about this: This very moment I am reaping what I have been sowing for years.

For example: I am taking a much needed break from my kids, as much as I cherish them.  I am sitting here in front of my computer, typing on this blogging website, meditating on God’s Word.  Obviously my kids are fruitful bi-products of my love shared with my wife.  My computer was a wedding gift from my grandparents who were aware of my appreciation of technology and communication.  Which brings us to blogging and God’s Word.  I have developed a love over the years of the Bible and discovered its complete relevance to our everyday lives.  Blogging has only helped me cement my understanding while add to fertilize my growth.  I have energy and and clarity of thought from breakfast and my good night’s sleep.  And of course I have all that I have because of God’s grace.  I was given the strength to sow from Him in the first place.

Every part of this moment is from something I have sown

So based on just these two verses: I am what I focus on, or I am what I invest my energy in, because I reap what I sow.

Therefore, it does not matter what happens today.  It does not matter how I am treated.  None of these are things that dictate how I am feeling right now.  They have nothing to do with my joy of this moment.  They have nothing to with the fact that I might be fearful now, or angry now, or ready to snap.

No, its not those things.

It’s what I think about after something happens to me.

It’s how I dwell on it.  It’s all about the AFTER in my mind.

My self-talk affects all of this.

Whatever I feed my mind, whatever I say in my heart will affect how I feel!!!

So I am learning not to try to change my feelings, or change others feelings, anymore.  Instead I am realizing that my feelings are data, or feedback from my mind.  In other words, my feelings are merely a reflection of what I’ve been thinking.

I am saying that my feelings are shadows of my thoughts.

Therefore, feelings cannot exist without the foundation of thought or belief.   That’s why it’s so important to know what you believe.

Take Ephesians 3:16-20 – “I pray that out of His glorious riches He may strengthen you with power through His Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith.  And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge – that you may be filled to the measure of the fullness of God.  Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work with us…”

Do I believe this?  Yes!  And this power is more than I can ever ask or imagine, as it says.  It’s God’s power!  It’s RESURRECTION POWER.  It’s defeated death!  What has a stronger hold on humanity than this?  And His Power is greater!

His power gives us the strength to “demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we [can] take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.” (2 Corinthians 10:5)

If we believe that we have His Strength to take our thoughts captive, well then how are we to know which ones are good for us and which ones are not?

“Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy, think about such things.“  (Philippians 4:8)

The Great 8; Such Things:  Truth.  Nobility.  Righteousness.  Purity.  Loveliness.  Admirableness.  Excellence.  Praiseworthiness.

Think about Such Things.

Here is the best part: the next verse.  Phillipians 4:9, “…put it into practice.  And the God of peace will be with you.”

Have you ever seen someone who is peaceful?  Rarely are they affected by the drama swirling about them.  On the contrary, many are attracted to them because they are not jilted or jostled about by trivial matters.  They are not swayed easily.

This is what I am talking about.  When I am at peace, it’s because I have disciplined myself, with God’s help, to focus more and more on what has been set before me for my health.

God has created beauty for our own good!  If we focus on good things, our heart will be secure.  And the God of peace will be with us. 

And nothing can make me feel as though that’s not true, unless I allow it.

Unless I dwell on those thoughts that are not of God.

So when James writes in his 3rd chapter about the tongue being like a very small rudder, we can now see how this is.  “Likewise the tongue is small… but it makes great boasts…. It corrupts the whole person, sets the whole course of his life on fire, and is itself set on fire by hell.” (James 3:5-6)

In the same way the tongue can corrupt the whole person, the tongue can bless.  For whatever is coming from the tongue has originated in the heart.  It’s up to us with God’s strength to take captive every thought and make it obedient to Christ.

Ephesians 4:29 – “Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.”  See how powerful the tongue can be?  It can benefit those who listen!  Why don’t we do this more?  So much talk these days is worthless, and we have shows were all they do is rile others up with nothing but TALK!

If we all focused on the Great 8, imagine what kinds of things we would enjoy talking about.  Imagine what kinds of things we could do because our energies wouldn’t be wasted on things that are just holding us back.

One other thing that helps me when I feel like I can’t focus on anything good:

In Paul’s letter to the Romans, he says, “…we also rejoice in our sufferings because we know that suffering produces perseverance” (5:3).

Right there!  That’s the original That which does not kill you, makes you stronger.  More importantly Paul is telling us, that through these trials we are being made into one that is more like Christ. 

If that is to be, then all things have a purpose!

So we are to reap what we sow, we can have a part in becoming who we want to be.

Yet if there are areas we are blind to, then Christ allows trials to strengthen us in such areas so we can continue to grow into the person we are to become.

Either way, it’s all good!

 Ah, peace.  Glorious Peace!

The Definition of Insanity

The truth of the matter is that God makes me uncomfortable. 

For too long I have sought after the loves of this world.

 

I used to dream of being rich. 

 

I tried for so long to learn how to earn man’s empty fickle praise.

 

Even though I know that the world is conditional. 

 

It’s your best friend while it acts like it’s fine without you.  It’s your lover, while at the same time, it’s your enemy. 

It makes promises that it never keeps, and continues to promise that its promises are what’s best for me. 

So I keep coming back for more promises – that never deliver.  If I can obtain this, there is nothing I can’t obtain. 

Why do I desire to manipulate? 

Why do I want something that doesn’t want me?

 

But that’s what I know.  That’s what the world is.  It turns, not for us, but for itself.  It consumes us, spits us out, alone and empty, and waits for us return to consume us again. 

There is comfort in consistency.  Even consistency that harms me.  It’s something I can expect.  Even though I tell myself it will be different this time.

 

Isn’t this insanity?  To keep doing the same thing while expecting a different results.

 

Then I am faced with the reality of God’s love.  I am faced with the truth of what He has done for me.

 

He loves.  He never stops.

 

He accepts.  Without condition.

 

He forgives.  And completely forgets.

I am disoriented. 

 

There is a term used in football when you are blind-sided so badly that both of your feet leave the turf at the same time, upending you on your head.  The point that is underscored here is the fact that you didn’t see it coming.  But then it would just be called blind-sided.  This is when you are swift and sure one moment, and then, suddenly, you are in the air, glimpsing life through your ear hole, in the next.  You might be seeing less, but to be sure, you are aware of so much more.  Your attention is focused. 

 

The term is de-cleated.

 

I am de-cleated.

 

I am shaking, so nervous.  I know He sees my naughty parts.  That’s what they are.  Especially next to Him.  They are all naughty parts.  There is no hiding anything from Him.  In this same moment, there is no more lying to myself.  There is no more confusion.  It scares me all the more.

 

He tells me of His Love. 

He tells me I’m Home. 

He tells me this will always be.

 

Even if I leave.

 

I hear Him.  But I can’t understand it.  I am hearing something I have longed to hear but I am soaked in disbelief. 

I am practiced in the art of bullshit and yet I find none from Him here. 

I shun the truth and I believe the lie.

 

So I run.

 

I run because I feel unworthy.

 

I run because I know no one sees me better.

 

I run because I know I can expect the guilt and the shame the world promises me if I go near Him. 

 

Another promise from the world – and I believe it.

Thanks to this world we have no tangible experience of unconditional love to compare. 

Conditional love leaves us wanting.  It abandons us, pining for more. 

 

But at least there is control.  I can choose who I love.  Can’t I?

 

But I can’t ignore that I am forced into a new kind of awareness.  I have been awakened, if only tiny parts of me at a time.

 

What scares me is that Unconditional Love existed once here in history, and it died prematurely. 

 

Against the rules.

 

It lived against the rules.  So it, too, died.

 

Wouldn’t you think that if there were two loves, one conditional and one unconditional, that the unconditional love would live forever?

 

So if the world has its own set of rules, shouldn’t we all know them by now?  Shouldn’t we have this perfect reincarnated life by now? 

Where is History when we look to it for answers? 

 

Where is Life when we look within?

Then I wonder, maybe life is not all there is to life?

 

Running from God.  Searching For Love.

 

You cannot do both at the same time.

Is that your final answer?

I am amazed at God’s grace time and time again.

Even with the fact that Melanie and I found out we were having Rebeccah Joy two months before we were married, I see now how that was all a part of God’s grace.

Even more so, of His mercy.

I see now that so many relationships are ruptured when there is sex involved outside of marriage. I knew it then but I really believed it didn’t apply to us. In my heart, I knew I was committed to my wife-to-be. Not that it made it okay. I just knew that it was a natural progression of our expression of love for each other and I allowed things to happen on those terms, and not God’s.

God has shown Himself more merciful and gracious then ever though. Not only did we receive the gift of our daughter but through raising her, Melanie and I have learned so many valuable lessons early on in our marriage.

I am so thankful that I chose the right person to be with.

Not that many people were a help.

Before I was married, I was told by others within the church that if the person you were with “caused you to sin” then it’s obvious that God is telling you that he or she is not the one.

That always confused me.

I wondered if God had truly made someone so perfect for each one of us that they would actually never contribute to our spiritual iniquity.

More to the point, maybe He had made someone so perfect for us, that they would keep us from sinning just from loving us.

In effect, I was being told that God has created someone out there for me who will make me so perfect that i will no longer need Jesus.

They will redeem my every flaw.

What the -?  That’s basically what they were saying.

I begin to look at my other friendships in this way and I begin to wonder if maybe there were other brothers in Christ that I should pursue knowing that if we were to “truly” serve in ministry together, then they, too, would never cause me to stumble.

Then I asked myself the question, “When I stumble, whose fault is it?” I mean when the Bible warns us to not be a loose rock for others to stumble upon, that applies to me, as far as I am concerned.

 However, if I feel someone is causing me stumble, that is not their problem.

It is mine on so many levels. I might want that person to know only because I care about them. But I would not tell them to shift blame from me to them.

Although I would be tempted.

So I decided that my stumblings are my responsibility as it pertains to me.

And I decided that the fact others are “causing me to stumble” is between those people and God.

It is not my job to put my God-problem or my vices on the heads of others.

I am tired of allowing the church to blame others.  We need to get off our butt.

I am tired of blaming others in my life for my faults.  I need to get off my own.

Had I listened to the thoughtless “encouragements” of those who “believe in marriage”, I never would have married my wife. 

I am sure there are times when I drag her down, and I am so thankful for her forgiveness, and the fact that she married me.

Why don’t we all just relax a little bit, and learn from the fact God forgives us?

I think it’s advice like I received that adds to the destruction of marriage.  It puts a false premise and negative expectation on marriage.

And while we weren’t married legally, we had made all kinds of promises to each other with God as our witness.  And others knew that.

So we were supposed to just drop everything we had said, promised, and built together because we were having troubles here and there?

Marriage is not about perfecting one another.  Nor is about “completing” each other.

It’s about accepting the other completely and allowing Christ to grow them.

And never, never giving up.

I thank my close friends who reminded me of that and continue to do so today.

Hitler’s Birthday and the Question Mark Kid

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In three days it will have been 8 years since the Columbine High School massacre. On Tuesday, April 20th, 1999, Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold went on a shooting rampage, killing twelve students and a teacher, as well as wounding twenty-four others, before committing suicide.

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I was listening to 106.9 Free Fm yesterday about the multiple homicide incident yesterday on the campus of Virginia Tech. The Gray Area’s Chris Daniel and Brad Giese were all upset about the media releasing the numbers as 32 dead, counting the yet-to-named shooter as #33. I didn’t understand at first what they meant and they clarified by saying, the real tragedy is that 32 people were killed, there is no tragedy in a killer being killed.

Additionally they said, and this just might be Chris and Brad’s opinion of morality, that the press had a journalistic obligation to report the horrible news as 32 killed and refuse to include the killer as those who are dead.

Now I may be wrong on this, but I always thought that the “news” was supposed to give us the “facts” and let us work out our opinions on our own. Obviously this has never been the case. But at least that’s why they say they do their job. So why would it be a journalistic obligation to separate those murdered from the killer in the final statistic of those dead? The only purpose I think it serves is to view the killer as less than human, without value, while mourning the loss of the innocents, further riling up the anger and indignation of those affected. Like we need any help.
Hearing this, my heart sank even further. I believe in justice. I believe in life. I even believe in the right to bear arms. But the fact that apparently anyone can just walk into a store and buy a Glock 9 mm pistol, as this young man did, without taking any safety classes or other certification courses disturbs me to no end.

Then I think about – well what if he has pledged all allegiance to Al-Queda? I don’t ask this because I think it might be possible but because I realize that I would view him suddenly as less-than-human. I struggle with that. I cannot claim to know anyone’s true heart. But when someone gives themselves over to a movement that glorifies torture and lionizes public suicides and murder, I can’t help but think of them as “less”. I see a whole army of murderers as people choosing to be less than human, and they make me sick.

With what happened yesterday, I see one man who, on his own, like the two students in Columbine 8 years ago, shoots up a campus as sad and desperate, and I get sick to my stomach. But for different reasons. I feel his pain personally. And I don’t even know him. Or his situation.

You talk about justice? I would have supported the death penalty for this man, had he been tried in a court of law. I would have looked upon that as a true appropriation of justice. But that would not have changed the fact that two tragedies were manifested yesterday at Virginia Tech.

Obviously a tragedy occurred when the shooting started yesterday for sure. But a tragedy also occurred some unknown time ago when the world allowed a young man, South Korean 23-year-old Cho Seung-Hui, to live in such isolation, and evident (at least now) bitterness. Where is there justice for this tragedy? Maybe that’s why he started shooting. Maybe that was justice for him. I am pretty sure though, his anger or whatever he had towards the VA Tech students or faculty was not the beginning of his problems. And yet he was left alone.

This young man was definitely guilty for killing 32 students while wounding at least a dozen others.

But that does not make us innocent.

We are all responsible.

Thank God ignorance is not a capital offense.

No Such Thing As “Christian” Music

I was talking a good friend the other day – this has been really bugging me – and we were talking about how we both go to the gym.

I said, “you know ever since I got my iPod, I have loved working out again.” (this is not a plug for iPod or Apple products but may appear as such)

Then we talked a bit about the differences in the different models. Like my Shuffle holds a gig of music with up to 250 songs. Her brand spankin’ new U2 iPod holds like half a terrabyte and up to 100,ooo songs, a million pictures, several full-length feature movies, all while doing your taxes. I know. I want one too. Especially with it’s three year financing option and all.

So she asks me what I have on mine, and I start to tell her, fondly recalling all the music that gets me going for my workout.

“All kinds of stuff really. Moby, U2, Evanescence, Metallica, Black Eyed Peas, DJ Tiesto, Tom Petty, Hellogoodbye, Chemical Brothers, Prodigy, Panic at the Disco, The Who…” Now my friend knows that I believe in Jesus, and I could see at this point her eyebrows creasing in concern.

So I stopped by asking, “what about you?”

All she could say was, “but none of those are christian.”

So I said, “so?”

“Well wouldn’t it be better for you if you listened to christian music?”

“Better how?”

I knew what she meant. Music that I didn’t have to sort through. Music that had been sanitized for my salvation. Music that didn’t force me to wrestle with my thoughts, or inconsistancies in this world. Music that said Jesus was God, and that’s that. (That might be a little trite, but for the most part, I think that’s how the rest of the conversation went, although not word for word.)

This is what’s bugging me. First of all this conversation. Second of all, this mindset!

Let me ask a few questions here: Does Lewis or Tolkien mention Christ in any of their fictional series? Are Bach’s sonatas Christian? What is more Christ-like, feeding the poor, holding an orphan, cleaning bathrooms, or painting a sunset? Can you answer that? Is going to the gym even the christian thing to do?

There is a schism between the sacred and the secular in all of our modern minds. The view that a pastor is more “Christian” than a girls volleyball coach is flawed and heretical.

The stance that a lead worshiper is more spiritual than a janitor is condescending and flawed. I’ve been both, and I have seen firsthand that these different callings and purposes further demonstrate God’s sovereignty. So I don’t need this spoonfed to me in every song I hear. I already know this.

Many songs are worthy of being written. Some of these songs are about redemption or how life sucks, others about love or lack thereof, others about nothing in particular: written for the simple joy of music. None of these songs has been born again, and to that end there is no such thing as Christian music.

Christ did not come and die for music; He came for you. He came for me. Music is a foundational part of life. But judging from scripture I can only conclude that our God is much more interested in how I treat the poor and the broken and the hungry than the songs we use or sing when we’re lifting weights or on the Elliptical.

I am a “believer”. Meaning I believe that Jesus is God, and that the Bible is Truth.  Many of the songs I like talk about this belief. But some of them also are very honest in their search while recognizing their limited perspective. However, an obligation to say this or do that does not sound like the glorious freedom that Christ died to afford me.

I do have an obligation, however, a debt that cannot be settled by my musical taste. My life will be judged by my obedience, not my ability to confine my iPod playlists to this box or that. The songs I listen to do not, in and of themselves, make me believe in Christ. Just as what I eat does not reflect my understandings of the afterlife or the here and now.

You see, a song that has the words: “Jesus Christ” is no more or less “Christian” than an instrumental piece. I have known many people who crank their “christian” music in their cars while cutting people off and running red lights all the while raising their hands out their windows in adoring worship. I also know people who hit the Itunes everyday to download the latest in “christian” music while completely ignoring the ever-unfurling essentially-free world of fresh, exciting, even stirring, music, rendering themselves completely incapable of discussing any other genres outside of christian labels. Just because they are claiming “jesus, jesus, jesus” with their lips, does not afford them to behave without consideration of their actions with the world around them. Go live in a vaccum if you want that life.

Jesus didn’t die for music, movies, or your job. So there is no hierarchy of life or songs or occupation; only obedience. We have a call to take up our cross and follow the life that Jesus taught.

We can be sure that these roads will be different for all of us. Just as you have one body and every part has a different function, so in Christ we who are many form one body and each of us belongs to all the others. Please be slow to judge people who have a different calling.

And by that, I don’t mean accept everything and tolerate everyone. I mean be slow to assess. As in don’t be quick to think you know. But by God have a brain, use it, and have an opinion. But just be aware you could be wrong.

So if I am running and if Ozzy’s Crazy Train helps me finish my marathon here in better time, then so be it. I am no less of a christian because of it, just as you are no greater for having listened to WOW’s Greatest Hits while you finish yours.

And if it makes my friend feel better, i told her that while i am running, talking to God is all I do.

What i didn’t tell her is that the majority of that time is spent thanking God for my health, that I am smart enough to never enter our family onto WifeSwap show, and of course, usually above all, I am thanking Him for great music.

And my iPod Shuffle.

Happy is a Yuppy Word

About two years ago I first heard the song, “Happy is a Yuppie Word”, by Switchfoot.  But I never actually listened to it until a few nights ago, and I’ve lost sleep ever since.  I did a little research via the Internet on such a concept and it turns out, Bob Dylan was the one being quoted.

In 1991, when Rolling Stone interviewed Dylan on his 50th birthday, he gave a curious response when the interviewer asked him if he was happy. He fell silent for a few moments and stared at his hands. “You know,’ he said, ‘these are yuppie words, happiness and unhappiness. It’s not happiness or unhappiness, it’s either blessed or unblessed.’”

Some of the lyrics follow (written by Jon Foreman):
everyone dies
everyone loves a fight
nothing is sound
nothing is right side right
the evening comes
when the sun goes down in red
nothing is new
when will all the fighting end?
when will all the fighting end?

happy is a yuppie word
nothing in the world could fail me now
as empty as an argument
running down the life that won’t cash out…cash out
everything is meaningless
i want more than simple cash can buy
happy is a yuppie word, word

i’m looking for an orphanage
i’m looking for a bridge i can’t burn down
i don’t believe in emptiness
i’m looking for the kingdom coming down

I ponder for days on these lyrics.

Are you happy?

What does that even mean?

Job security? Life Security? A fleeting feeling you’ll be chasing down the next bottle?

Family? Is happiness something that is brought to you? Or is it something you claim?

Is it something to use? Or just something to have?

What is happiness worth? What is it’s point if people are willing to kill themselves for it?

Is it a means? Or is it an end?

Is it freedom? Or is it slavery?

I ponder these lyrics. I think the happiness Jon Foreman is singing about is hedonistic pleasure. The American Dream, right? The married life, 2.5 kids, cars, the perfect house, the white fence, with weekends off. Or maybe building your own castle like Shaq or Lebron with statues and busts of yourself. Reminders of what? Aren’t mirrors enough?

I look at the Bible. I realize something.

The Bible is about nothing if it’s not about passion. How else could someone document pages and pages of bloodlines? How else could there be war? Within our history, our world, or within ourselves? How else could someone allow himself to die for a sinless life? How else are we loveable if there isn’t a God with passion for His children?

Is that happiness?

I keep wanting.

There seems to be a tension within me of wanting things of this earth and wanting things that are unseen. Some seem to overlap. I want a PS3. I want to publish some books. I want my six-pack back. I want my kids to grow up and kick butt in whatever they do. I want everyone I love to know Jesus. I want everyone that says they believe in God to know Jesus. I want my family to love. I want to help others. I want stability – “a bridge I can’t burn down”, I want a house. I want heaven. I want my own. I want.

I find myself quickly answering even now, “I just want my family to be happy”. How am I to answer this way? Am I being selfish by wanting happiness for the ones I love? Maybe this way I will feel like I did my best.

So… can what we do affect our happiness? If that is true, then that means happiness is something that we come by, and not something we claim. As in we can arouse happiness but we cannot make it on our own. Like Vitamin C. We need it, but we can not make it on our own. Is that the way it works?

Or can our choice to be happy affect what we do? If that is true, than that means it’s something we can claim, something that is our unalienable right, deep within us, regardless of our circumstance, we can remember our ability, with which we have been born, to declare to oneself happy. Like white blood cells. We need it and we make more within, given enough nourishment. Is that the way it works?

Maybe We Did Come From Monkeys

  I just heard a story about four monkeys that were placed in a room that had a tall pole in the center.  Suspended from the top of this pole was a bunch of bananas. One of the hungry monkeys started climbing the pole to get his grub on, when suddenly, he was doused with a torrent of cold water.  Shrieking, he scampered down and abandoned his attempt to feed himself.

Each monkey made a similar attempt, with each one getting drenched with ice cold water.  After making several attempts, each finally gave up.

Begin Phase Two:  Researchers removed one of the monkeys from the room and replaced him with a new monkey.

As the newcomer begin his climb up the pole, the other three grabbed him and pulled him to the ground.  After trying to climb the pole several times, each time being dragged to the floor by the others, he, too, finally gave up and never attempted to climb the pole again.

Eventually the original four monkeys were replaced, one by one, and each time the new monkey was brought in, he would be dragged down by the others before he was halfway up the pole, while the bunch of bananas still hung from the top.

In time, the room was filled with monkeys who had never received a cold shower.  None of them would climb the pole to quench their hunger, but not a single one of them knew why.

Maybe we did come from monkeys… 

Any thoughts?

Children of Men

I was at Blockbuster last night, looking for something to fill my insomniatic behavior in my recent life.  The customer in front of me was there to pick up a copy of Children of Men and was disappointed that every copy was rented out.  I mentioned to the fellow customer, off my cuff like, that it’s a great movie and that he “should definitely come pick it up tomorrow.”

Then I told him that Clive Owen turned down guaranteed millions as the new James Bond to do this movie, and that I had to say, it was a smart move, because the movie blew me away.

The girl at the counter checking us out looked at me with surprise and said, “Really? I couldn’t get through it … nothing was happening.”

I asked her where she got to in the film, and she didn’t even get to the point where Julianne Moore makes an appearance.  

So here I the count three scenes she actually watched:

1. The opening sequence in the coffee shop where Clive Owen’s character, Theo, picks up some coffee:  It’s revealed here that the youngest person on Earth has died.  We also realize the story takes place in the not-too-distant future where women can no longer have babies.  Just moments after his leaving, the coffee shop explodes killing nearly everyone in it, as someone else loses an arm.  Hmmm.  Booooooring!

2. After the bombing, Theo heads to work. There is some interesting character development here. He almost was killed in a bombing, but the world is so crappy he hardly cares.  He hates his life, especially his job, which he eventually ditches by telling his boss that he is so emotionally distraught from the death of Baby Diego, never mind the fact that he almost got blown up.  Oh jeez, where is the fast forward button … blah blah blah

3. Theo leaves work to see his friend Jasper, who is played by Michael Caine.  Here we learn that Jasper was a political cartoonist, likes you to pull his finger when he farts, grows some killer green bud, and has a secret passage to his home.  We also learn that Theo and Julianne Moore’s character were once an item, with a child of their own.  They all appear to have been major protesters back in the day (this present day, in fact), and we get a little more information on the film’s futuristic take of an infertile world.  We learn that no one is really sure why women can’t produce babies anymore and that Theo used to be an idealist.   Yawn!  Give me Jack Sparrow with a dash of Orlando Bloom!!

Yup, it was at this point that the video store clerk quit on the movie, she said.

I don’t get it. How do you quit on a movie that early?

Except for some flashes of Owen traveling by train or driving his car, and at least one of them being disturbing,  that’s only three scenes. Three!

What is that … fifteen, twenty minutes?

I know of two other people that actually walked out on the movie when it was in theaters.  They made it almost 30 minutes, yet apparently “hours before” before the 40-minute mark where the big bombshell is dropped (which, by the way, is completely revealed in the film’s trailer).

Have we become so impatient?

Part of the problem I think is people are so used to bad filmmaking that they forget that good editors and directors are always handing you information in every frame.  So some people just quit looking for clues or detail and just try to glaze their way through most movies.

If this movie makes them think, they believe they won’t have any fun.  God forbid.

I know it’s been described as a grim tale of dystopia, which is true, and I know that isn’t for everyone.

The film makes no promises to the audience in the end, but it does offer hope. It’s a great marriage of vision, ideas, story and filmmaking innovation.

I said so much when I told the clerk, “Give it another shot.”

 

Then she said the one thing everyone says when they realized they may have mislabeled what they considered to be a lame movie, “Yeah, you know.  I was pretty tired when I saw it, so…,” followed by her promise to try it again.  Maybe she will, maybe she won’t. Maybe she’ll still hate the living hell out of it. Like the movie, no promises needed. Like it matters to me. 

All I am saying is Children of Men was a great film.  You might disagree, but at least watch the entire thing.

That way if all you can say is that “nothing is happening”, you will be referring to your social life, and not the story unfolding in front of you.  

I would walk a 1000 miles…. for you

I decided I am going to walk or run 1000 miles from March 1st 2007 to March 1st 2008.  There are too many nice places around this East Bay to not.

Besides I could use the exercise.

As of tonight, I am sitting on 29 miles.

If I run or walk an average of 20 miles a week, then I should be all good.  The last five times I have gone out, I have reached the five mile mark with surprising ease.
That is not to say that I didn’t almost die, because I thought I was everytime.  That is to say that I didn’t think I could do five miles AT ALL those times.  But I just kept going and it’s largely thanks to my iPod Shuffle that I kept on.

So 1000 miles?
   Here I come….

See For Yourself

Have you ever been to the theatres by yourself?

You should go.

Just once. To try it.

If you’ve already tried it, you know you’ve been wanting to do it again. And you will know exactly what I am talking about.

For the rest of you, you’ll just have to take my word for it.

That is, until you try it yourself.

Oscar nominations were announced recently, and it is with great pride that I declare I have seen every movie nominated for anything this year. Okay, that’s just not true.

Simply due to the fact that I still believe the Academy is changed every year due to a random surveys taken in old folks homes.

Usually I don’t go to a lot of movies, even though I love going. 

But I am dead-set on a new way of life.  This year is the year of the new me.

I am going to bring back a bit of the 1997 version of me, only better.  That year I saw LA Confidential, Good Will Hunting, and The Game by myself.

Yes.  1997 was the year I dated myself at the movies.

But this past year, the great year of our Lord 2006, a new dream began to take place.  In my minds eye, I saw hundreds of movies. Every film I saw within days of their release, plunking down $9 a pop for a matinee show as my peers stared out their office windows on a Friday afternoon longing to be released from their cages.

This can be actualized this year for two small reasons: I am unemployed, and I love going by myself.

I’ve never done much alone before the year of 1997 and as far as my independence went, that was my time to break through. That year I also dined alone, traveled alone, went to museums and galleries alone, even rode the bus alone, just to see where it would go.  Finally in my greatest moment of liberty, and sick of DVC classes, I drove myself to the theater one morning and bought a ticket for LA Confidential.

Which I watched all alone. Literally. It was 10 am, with the Box Office barely open and I was there at the theatre alone, with rows and rows of sticky berber fabric seats to myself.  It was fantastic!

Sitting under the screen, dwarfed by its size and the echoing of contrived dialogue against my still pillow-sensitive ears, I had an epiphany about life: THIS was how it was supposed to be all along.

No one with me, no one around me, no one whose tastes and dislikes I had to cater to.

Just me and Taco Bell that I had snuck in that I wasn’t sharing with a soul, and a great movie I picked to see at a time that was convenient for me. That movie was the first of many that I enjoyed with no one.

I truly believe this could work, even in today’s world. 

Each time I would step into the movie theatre and hand my ticket to the usher, he’d say, “Oh, hi again! Your usual seat?” I’d say Yes, of course, and I’d go watch three movies in a row.

I’d come out later that night just as rush hour was setting upon the streets and I’d drive home feeling like I’d just been at work too, like this was my commute home from a grueling day of Leo DiCaprio and Cate Blanchett.  Action-packed dramas were my morning meetings, my lunch hour a hot dog in the lobby of the Century Theatre downtown.  I would return to work rounding out my day with a foreign film or two, closing with maybe a romantic comedy or the latest horror picture.

Later that night as I would scan through the AP movie reviews or read the message boards in IMDB.com long after my wife and kids were tucked in bed and fast asleep, I’d examine their critiques of new releases and knowingly agree or disagree.

And oddly, this could me help me connect with others in ways I never have.  By going alone, I could help direct my friends and family to the good ones and willingly take one for the team so they could save their precious time from the bad ones.

But even then I see that seeing all these movies has a greater reward, beyond just listening to the Oscar nominations and saying to myself, “Saw it. Saw it. Saw it and hated it.”

It would afford me a certain luxury of pride naturally, but also gave me a chance to memorize all the commercials that play for 45 minutes before each movie started.

So that when my wife and I go to see The Departed on the night of its re-release, my first time with another human being in a theatre with me in ages, I would able to wow her with my “precognition” of the previews and the newest Fandango commercials where the people are made of lunch bags.

“They’re in a recording studio,” I’d say, “and one is dressed like Bono.  Watch!  It’s hilarious!”

My bride would look at me when my prophecy was proven true and mouth, “Wow.” 

And with great restraint, I’d just shrug like it was no big deal.

And she would know that no thanks would be necessary.

It would be my job and nothing more.

Now if I can only find a babysitter.