I listen to 96.5, "the buzz" in Kansas City. It's the alternative music station and typically has great stuff. Some stuff, take it or leave it, but the majority is good. They're sponsoring the Death Cab/Rogue Wave show this weekend that I will MISS because I'll be out of town at a wedding.
Listening to that station, I discovered the song "handlebars" by the flobots. Have you heard it? Thought inducing lyrics. I have listened to it many times. Makes me really wrestle with being an american, with being in a powerful nation, and what we do with that power. This is not an "anti war" blog post. It's more a post about what it really means to be human - and live in a broken world with 6 billion plus other humans.
Here's a video I found for it. Not sure if it's the main video, but I liked this version the most (I only watched 2 videos). There's a couple quick violent images in it, in case you're 6 years old and stalking my blog.
What do you do with this? It's Memorial Day. Yes we remember our troops. Should we also remember the other sides of those conflicts? Should we be remembering the broken in China who lost their loved ones and families in the earthquake? Should we be remembering the economies we devastate by taking all of their corn. . . .for our ethanol fuel?
I'm self employed - home everyday, and I have far LESS time than before to watch TV. So, I sit and remember those shows that truly have made my life brighter - laughter being their tool on my soul. So this post is simply about that: funny shows, my favorites, and ones I'm hopeful that you like also, hopefully more than my piece of "art" below. 1 comment - from Tim. And Krysten is mad at me for posting it - getting her hopes up that it would be a real piece of art. My mom has strongly suggested I take it off. I probably will. It's not kind - but I mean, sheesh, the BACK DOOR?????
Anyways - my top 5 favorite funny shows. **Disclaimer, I almost used Grays Anatomy - high on the unintentional comedy scale. I mean, typical dialogue: "Why are you so upset?" "Because I'm a SURGEON, and I do SURGERIES, and I live for those SURGERIES, and we're SURGEONS." "I am a SURGEON too. I like to do SURGERIES too, and I too, live for those SURGERIES. We are definitely SURGEONS doing SURGERIES." "Want to have sex?" "Okay." (sex commences - awkward sex most of the time because someone is getting cheated on.)
In order from #5 to #1:
#5: Saturday Night Live. Why? It's never "lost it" as far as I'm concerned. Farley and Mike Myers replaced by Will Ferrell and Molly Shannon replaced now by Bill Hader and Andy Samberg and many others. Case in point:
PUT YOUR TAPE DECKS ON RECORD....1995
#4: 30 Rock It stops me in my tracks every time I watch it because it's so quick witted and sarcastic. Tina Fey rules - but Alec Baldwin rules even more (not as a dad, but as a comedic actor). I don't know where any clips are to embed or else I'd show you.
#3: My top three are far higher than the other two, just FYI. Scrubs: off the wall, crazy, unexpected, and there are belly laughs in every episode. There are so many clips on youtube to choose, but here's a couple: True Friendship
or, Jesus on Abortion:
EDIT TO ADD: #3B:
I'm a tard and left this off. Flight of the Conchords. Why? Because good Lord, they're the smoothest song-writers of all time. And quite funny.
...my lyrics are bottomless......
#2: The Office. Funniest show on TV currently. You all have seen it. If you haven't, you are, well, crazy.
#1: It's not even close. Arrested Development. If you don't watch this show, you're crazy, or not alive in your soul or something. It's best to rent the DVD's, and start from the beginning. Three fabulous seasons. Such a messed up family. Season 2 is the best season of television ever. It's something magical.... and so magical I couldn't find a video for it on youtube.
Cue the anticlimactic music. Freaking Fox. Freaking cancelled the greatest show ever. Years later and I'm still sad.
Your favorite 5? Have I forgotten anything? If you say things like According to Jim or How I Met Your Mother, I say you're wrong.
If you haven't heard, I am self-employed. I am now a member of the artistic community, and, please turn off your laugh track. I said artistic community. No, please turn off your laugh tracks. TURN THEM OFF.
For whatever reason, God has immensly blessed Ashley and I with the ability for me to work from home - be with my kids and my wife, running a home business, and it is excelling. What an adventure! Home business is great - it's exciting, challenging, rewarding, and stressful all wrapped up into one. Balancing work and family is a challenge. Photography is a challenge. Nailing composition, exposure, and truly documenting someones wedding seamlessly while coming in and out of different locations is a challenge. But, I continue to improve, and continue to love it more. Nearly 40 weddings this year - and I'm stoked for each of them.
And yes, we shot last weekend. Ash and I left this particular wedding seriously refreshed, stoked for MARRIAGE and not just a wedding, and reaffirmed in our love for each other. Their vows did that to us. You know a wedding was good when it had that.
And on top of all of this, my skills have improved and continue to improve. I recently took my favorite "shot of the year". As a photographer, I know that one strives to continue improvement for a lifetime and when you get it - when you see it displayed right out of the camera without any photoshop work - when you know that it was YOU who took it - that all culminates into one of the greatest feelings you can have as an artist, I'm convinced.
So, I'm displaying it for my blog readers. I've called it: "Slamming the back door" and it's my first, real, piece of art. Let me know what you think.
**Editted to ADD: removed the pic. It was not kind. Or art.
Heard today in my home, a conversation with my four year old:
"Daddy, I want a snack." "Okay buddy, what do you want?" "I want fruit snacks." "Fruit snacks?" "Yes, they're for snacks too, not just treats." "Sorry buddy, they're just for treats after supper."
(delayed pause)
"Sorry daddy, you just disobeyed God." "What?" "When you just said that, you disobeyed God."
Almost a month's time has gone by, and I have blissfully wandered through my days, scarcely realizing that something is dreadfully wrong. No blog posts.
I am sorry.
Forgive me.
I know I have lost many followers in the past month. But I am coming back. Strong.
But seriously. . . .I am coming back. . . .right. . . . .now.
Hello blog world. Welcome back to the random world of Jeremy Parsons. . . .
Driving down I-35 in Kansas City at 5:15 PM is not the greatest idea. Okay, KC is not the largest place on earth - not LA, not NYC, not Seattle - but come on, any city with 2 million people is bound to have traffic issues.
I, in my stylin' van, cruised North toward Liberty, MO, to pick up a love seat - given to us from Ashley's parents. Traffic was actually moving pretty quickly, all things considered. In a 65, I got caught behind a gentleman going 58 - with traffic moving at a 62 MPH clip. Trying to keep up with my wife, in another car, I crept up behind this fine gentleman - closer, closer, closer...then his brake lights flash as he taps his brakes - obviously telling me to back off.
I kindly told him with my arm (no fingers) that he needs to move.
He kindly told me with his arm that I am an idiot and he isn't moving. In fact - he owns the road, and will drive as slow as he damn well wants to in the left lane while everyone else is passing him.
In my mind, I won the fight between us. And yes, I am driving a minivan, which yes, I realize, is about the lamest car ever.
But I drove proudly today...because the manly man in front of me drove a teal Daewoo, and at least I don't drive that. Advantage: minivan
If this blog is truly "Just my thoughts" then you get the good and the bad, the irreverent and reverent, the retarted and sophisticated. Or, maybe never sophisticated. But here is a large element to my recent thoughts:
I can't stop saying "but seriously" after almost everything I say...but seriously I can't. It's quite catchy, if I do say so myself....seriously, it is.
The "but seriously", for me, has its roots in the movie dodgeball, when white goodman (the antagonist) is speaking to a woman he desires to court:
There's no reason we need to be shackled by the strictures of the employee-employer relationship. Unless you're into that sort of thing. In which case, I got some shackles in the back. I'm just kidding. But seriously, I've got 'em.
It's especially effective after a joke. Example:
"Your mom's so fat, she could crush her shadow. . . .but seriously, she did."
A more prevalent use of the "but seriously" can come after a declarative sentence, you simply put on a straight face and say but seriously. Example:
"I cooked dinner tonight....but seriously, you owe me $5 for the food." -or- "I really enjoyed our date tonight...but seriously, don't call me." -or- "Nice house, it's really roomy....but seriously you need new furniture." -or- "Yes, I liked 'Save the Last Dance' also....but seriously, you did?"
Or apologies:
"I'm so sorry for standing you up last night...but seriously, let's break up."
I'm obsessed....but seriously, I can't stop saying it. I even have tried praying lately and I'm not sure God likes my dry humor.
"God thank you for this day. . . .but seriously, it was cold." I'm kidding, but seriously, I prayed like that.
For those that think dreams can't come true...for those that think that we should play it safe...for those who think we should conform to the norm...this is for you. Read the story below. And if you don't believe it can happen - watch the video afterwards. . . .
Live your dreams - GO FOR IT!
+++++++ CHICAGO—Although she stood to lose her friends, her family, and everything she had worked for her entire life, classically trained dancer Cassie Lisbon, 18, put it all on the line Saturday night when she performed a highly controversial ballet/hip-hop-fusion routine at the Chicago Academy for the Arts' annual spring recital.
The routine, which defied all reason and social order by combining the elegance of ballet with dangerous, never-before-seen "street" moves such as spinning on one's knees and snapping fingers, reportedly lasted four and a half minutes. According to Lisbon, the bold and provocative number was the culmination of a month of rehearsals, 18 years of feeling like she was destined for something special, and six weeks of dating a troubled, but gifted, in-your-face competitive dancer and high school dropout.
Lisbon prepares to bring it.
"It was like my whole life was just preparation for that one moment," said Lisbon, who added that everything had gone silent as she stood backstage before her routine and suddenly realized that it was this recital or never. "I danced the only way I know how—from the heart. Because in the 'hood and on the dance floor there are no second chances."
"I don't care what they say," Lisbon added. "It's my life, and I'm playing for keeps."
Taking the featured spot in the school's final showcase after her uptight former rival, Annabelle, realized she had been following someone else's dream all along and dropped out at the last minute, Lisbon shocked her teachers and fellow students when the classical Stravinsky piece she was dancing to abruptly stopped and morphed into a slightly faster version with a bass beat and rapidly spoken vocals.
"At first I thought something was wrong with the sound system," fellow student Maggie Pinchion recalled. "But when I saw Cassie smile and take out that folding chair, I realized she was just bringing together two radically different worlds to show us all that we can follow the music that beats in our own hearts. It was so tight."
While school administrators are still baffled as to where such a talented ballet dancer could have learned a second form of dancing, some speculate Lisbon may have ventured out into the rough but vibrant neighborhoods surrounding the private academy.
"I can only assume that Cassie must have visited one of the local nightclub establishments where teens hang out and perform spontaneous, elaborately choreographed one-on-one dance competitions to the music of a young gentleman named Soulja Boy, among others," head instructor James Tillingford said. "Of course, there's no way Cassie could have infiltrated this subculture, unless she entered a biracial relationship with a young man who wanted a better life for himself than stealing cars and playing ball, someone who could teach her how to let go of her formal training—along with the pain of her mother's untimely death—and just let it flow so she could, in turn, convince his hardened, cynical friends that she was 'not bad for a white girl.'"
Lisbon, with one of her many new ethnically diverse friends, finds the strength—and rhythm—to show everyone.
Continued Tillingford, "But she'd have to really bring it."
The only student in the history of the form to realize that ballet is incapable of expressing a whole range of different but equally true emotions, Lisbon said the road to popping and locking onstage wasn't an easy one. At times, Lisbon admitted, she felt like giving up and just performing the highly technical routine of graceful leaps and spins she had been training for over the last decade. Fortunately, her friends were there to encourage her.
"I could never have done it without my new girl Shandra by my side, telling me I had a chance to be somebody and I shouldn't let anyone stop me from achieving my dreams, because where she's from, 'hope' is a four- letter word," Lisbon said. "I have to accept that full scholarship to Juilliard on my own terms."
"You can't rehearse for life," Lisbon added. "The rhythm is in you."
Lisbon expressed thanks for the support she received from her father, who thought she was throwing her life away with her "ridiculous dancing hobby," but made it to the recital to stand in the back and cheer her on anyway; her boyfriend, Tay, who not only taught Lisbon how to hear the beat of life but also performed a showstopping break-dance routine in the middle of her performance; and her new group of multiracial friends—especially Little Jay, who was tragically killed in a knife fight only two days before Lisbon's final performance.
Although she is excited to start her new life at Juilliard, Lisbon said she may defer enrollment for a year in order to mentor a promising, similar-looking sophomore who has plans to shake up next year's lower-budget recital in a style all her own. ++++++++
That's right, randominity. What a ridonkulous word. I catch myself with random thoughts in my mind all of the time. Here are some:
Cereal has four stages: "boxed," "fresh" (the stage with newly poured milk), "soggy", and "mortar hard" after the leftover flakes dry out. How the f do they get so hard? You might as well simply take rock and epoxy it to the side of the bowl. I also wonder if there was a leak in your basement, if you could simply pour a bowl of Raisin Bran, enjoy 98% of it, and then past the remaining milky flakes over the hole? Wait, I'm going to market that. . . .
I love doing the dishes - placing dishes into the washer. (I use "love" loosely in this sentence). I hate unloading the dishwasher.
There's nothing better when you're with "the guys" than smoking a tobacco pipe. You just feel more manly. There's then nothing worse than the taste in your mouth for 3 days afterward.
On the road paved with good intentions, I am in great shape. In real life, I am not in good shape. Also, on the road paved with good intentions, I read all the time, am a perfect father and husband, a better friend, a better brother, a better son, and I don't procrastinate ever.
High education isn't necessary for all walks of life - I believe that. Not everyone needs to read poetry by Robert Frost, have a deep abiding knowledge of Presidential History, or even know what year the war of 1812 happened. But I know an adult who could take a few steps forward in that arena. I saw a sampling of his spelling recently. I mean, rock: R-O-K? Seriously?
Do animals have thoughts? Not dogs or (evil) cats, but cows? Chickens? What would a cow be thinking walking into a slaughterhouse? "This is a great place! So many of my friends here. Cool - a big building and. . . .what the. . . oh crap . . . "
I'm so thankful that God created steak.
My oldest son's belly laugh is the greatest sound on earth. Tied with my youngest son's belly laugh.
New dream career: Cuban band pianist - or percussion player. I'm kidding, but seriously: it's my dream.
And where to study? It couldn't be anywhere but:
You thought I forgot how hot Appalachian was? You're wrong.
For many reasons in my life currently, stress seems to be falling off of my shoulders. We have been wrestling with what to do with a bad situation regarding our neighbors. We have been wrestling with the general stress of life with two kids, a business, and me working another full time job. And I knew it was time to get past my stresses when I saw this public service announcement on TV recently, and it really spoke to me:
I will get past my stress and let it fall off of my shoulders. I will embrace the 60 degree days and love the park (like we did tonight). I will breathe deeply and fully and leave my stress behind tonight, because what good is stress? I will live - today - fully.
I was reminded today about passion. No, I didn't spend my afternoon in front of some sordid movie, but rather, had about a one hour talk with a guy who lives with passion. And maybe it's because I'm a guy, but I want to live with passion also. I'm not content to simply sluff through life, paycheck to paycheck, week to week, watching my kids age, my hair gray, and my "wisdom" grow on account of my elderly status. I am, however, convinced that life is here to be lived - grabbed ahold of, and run with. Is life easy? No. But it is to be lived fully - because life is a gift.
And when your passion is put to use - it stirs passion in others.
Passion enables you to play basketball like Jordan.
Passion enables you to run like Eric Liddell (Chariots of Fire):
And passion enables you to sing like this:
All of this comes on the heels of watching one of the most stirring movies I've ever seen in my 28 years on earth. If you haven't seen "once", go rent it, go rent it right now, and let yourself be swept away. Music for Glen Hassard (the main guy) isn't simply a "fun thing to do" - it's passion, and it shows.
Passion. Without it lies the tame existence of the "eat, sleep, repeat" lifestyle. Without it, a man slowly becomes passive. Without it, a woman becomes deadened in her spirit. It's what every child is born with - what few humans die with - and what I desperately want to hold on to.
So I want to know - what are you passionate about?
One of the greatest feelings in the world? Holding and consoling my sad son.
One of the worst feelings in the world? Holding and consoling my sad son after he faceplanted HARD going down the stairs to the front door, while I, 8 steps above, watched in slow motion as he tripped and rolled all the way to the bottom.....
Man, I'm rolling with blog posts lately. Lately? More like always.
Anyways, I recently posted about "trouble" - my youngest child and a brief photo session we had with him in the living room. So, something needs to also be said about the other young unit of the Parsons family. I'm going to call him "my life changer."
Late February of 2003 was a landmark turning point in Ashley's and my life. As every young parent can attest to, we had one of those talks one evening that goes something like this:
"Jeremy, I feel weird." "Weird? What do you mean?" "I just feel a little nauseous, and I'm so tired." "Man, I'm sorry, are you getting sick?" "No, I think I'm pregnant, go get me a pregnancy test." "What?" "Yes, a pregnancy test, and be sure to get the kind that has two tests inside of it."
And, Friday evening, a nearly undiscernable line appeared on that test. It was faint enough for me to say (honestly) "I don't see anything." We went to bed.
We casually woke up late on Saturday in our house on 12th street in Greeley. And, because we woke up late, we woke up hungry. Ashley suggested breakfast, and, never the one to turn down food, I obliged. We went to The Kitchen - awesome food. Greasy. My place.
Like a slow crescendo, we talked about the previous night's event. And, despite my continual reminder that there "really wasn't" a line, Ashley grew more certain all of the time.
Saturday night, the 2nd test was taken. And the result? No doubts this time. Holy crap, we're having a baby. My life changer. Micah.
My first born, a source of so much joy that I can't comprehend it. I look at him in wonder and think to myself "I can't believe he's mine."
He's the best Simpsons viewing partner (get your phones out and start dialing social services....) that there is. He laughs at my jokes. He's an encouragement (truly) to me in my life. He's smarter than me. He's kind and generous and giving and winsome. He steals the show. He's a world changer. And I couldn't be more proud.
Another crazy post. Before we begin, can anyone make sense of scientology? And, can anything out there make scientology seem "rational?" Keep that in mind.....
I was reminded the other day about how much I love to run. For one of the first times in months, the sun warmed the ground in Kansas City, and a slight breeze made me believe once again that "yes, this isn't hell." What a long winter. I digress....
The trolley trail is located near my home and it makes for a great location to get 4 miles under my belt at a time. Yes, my fat behind still goes 4 miles at a decent pace. So not all is lost in terms of fitness in my world. And, on this particular day, there was nobody on the Trolley trail. The sky was a glorious deep shade of blue, speckled with sparse clouds blown by a wind out of the south. Alone, I settled into my rhythm, navigating around puddles and mud while my mind does what it always does while I run - rambles through incoherent thoughts. A sampling:
"How many steps until the bridge? 1,2,3,4,5,6,6,6,7,8,8,10,12. . .crap.. . . .my son counts better than me...did that guy just stare me down? Yeah he better drive away, but even if he came after me I think I could either take him, or outrun him...I mean I am a runner, and what's for dinner? I wonder if there's a 10K race I could do?...."
Which leads me to this: the point of my blog. You thought it was about running a 10K? Wrong.
I tried googling "Kansas City 10K" in order to figure out if I could possibly train for and finish an easy 10K in the spring or summer. Heck, even just googling that makes me feel more fit. Several results flashed onto my screen, one of which was titled:
Kansas City 10K
Perfect. Click.....and what do I see? Two guys in their twenties, holding a small trophy while shaking hands. One has really long hair, one has short hair but appears to have a small mustache beginning.
My first thought? "Man, those guys must be fast to have won the race....wait a minute....is that ratty, long, unwashed hair? Is that a peach fuzz mustache? Is that....a DRAGON on the wall behind them? It couldn't be....well, yes, it is....dungeons and dragons????????" Incredulous, I looked further.
This link for Kansas City 10K was, well, for a Dungeons and Dragons-esque tournament held right here in beautiful Kansas city....no doubt in the basement of one of the contestant's mother's home, where he resides in piles of unwashed clothing and dirty dishes. The title of the tournament? Kansas City 10K - meaning - 10K in prizes given out. And, I want to be clear, it's not D&D that they're playing, lest I have an incantation cast on me....you know, after their moms fix their dinner and they apply their pimple meds.
Folks, welcome to the world of Dreamblade. I had never heard of this phenomenon. Well, the winner of the Kansas City 10K tournament was So, here's the definition from everyone's favorite source of info, Wikipedia:
Dreamblade is a collectible miniatures game created by Wizards of the Coast that debuted on August 9, 2006, the day before Gen Con Indy. The game is a strategy contest that includes an element of chance which comes into play through various die rolls. Similar to Magic: The Gathering, each game represents a battle between very powerful individuals, in this case psychics called "Dream Lords."These Dream Lords battle one another across the landscape of humanity's shared unconsciousness by spawning dream creatures out of human emotions, in particular Valor, Fear, Madness, and Passion. Although there are many collectible miniatures games available today, Dreamblade's restricted landscape and spawning rules (among other things) result in many aspects which are more similar to a collectible card game than a traditional miniature game.
I am speechless.
um....................
um....................
SO, I love running......but I will most definitely not be in the Kansas City 10K.
Ashley and I have a pretty keen sense of when trouble is brewing in our household. Whether it be a dirty diaper, or my boys digging into an ice cream bar or grabbing a pack of crayons to go "play" - as a parent you develop the keen sense that trouble is on its way. . .
Ladies and gentlemen....let me introduce you to 30 pounds of trouble. His name is Tyler, he's 2 (almost 3), has the raddest long hair ever, and is the king of making people laugh or swoon. He's never been cuter, or more fun. . . .and when he gave his mommy the big puppy dog eyes at bed time tonight and she got him up to come be with us on the couch, I knew trouble was brewing.
And thanks to my new Canon 50mm 1.4 lens, I was able to capture some of the trouble. . . . this little exchange with his mommy was great...
I am more proud of this guy than I could ever say. I love who he is, I love watching him grow, learn, inquire about simple things in life...I love that he loves his mom and I a lot - loves his brother like a best buddy/mentor - I love the way he goes through this life so winsomely, winning hearts of friends and strangers he might acquaint himself with in a grocery cart. I love his sense of humor, how much he loves the movie Cars, how he can't lay still through the night (good luck to his future wife), and his bed head in the morning.
I love everything about this little man - I love mostly that he's my son. I'll take trouble any day of the week.
The quote to the right side of my blog is one by a guy named Brennan Manning. His book "A Ragamuffin Gospel" is truly wonderful...and I only read about half of it. I really suck at finishing books for the most part, but in this case, I think it's okay because I gleaned a great deal from the first few chapters. And, almost as importantly, I got a "cool, artsy, hip, eloquent" quote to put on my blog - therefore making me cool, artsy, hip, and eloquent. Those who know me know that that is simply, well, not true. But if I look the part, maybe I can fool some of you. Or not.
Anyways, Manning writes openly about his struggle with, and subsequent addiction to, alcohol in chapter 1 of this book. "I am an angel with an incredible capacity for beer." And I love that he is open about that - it gives room for regular folks like me to read his book and feel "welcome" within its pages. It's as if he says "it's okay to be here even if you don't have it figured out. I'm an alcoholic, I'm screwed up, we're all screwed up." By beginning his book with this declaration, he earned my trust. Therefore, when he speaks about the grace of God - how it permeates our being, regardless of who we are or what we've done - I believe it. I contrast this to other books I've read by people who write in such a way as to inspire to you be better. Some phrases that come to mind:
"Live your best life now. Step one...." "Improve your spiritual life by ________" "You can be more blessed if you _________"
Quite simply, Manning get is right. The Gospel of Jesus says "come to me - I don't care what you've done or who you are. Just come to me." We do not have to clean up our act first. We do not have to straighten out our lives first. We do not have to pray magical incantations like a sorcerer for Him to hear us and draw us near to Himself. We do not have to give money, meet our quota of scriptures read, or attend or serve in a church before we come to Him. It's laughable to think that we can offer anything like that to Him as an admission fee into His presence. After all, what are we when it compares to God?
I read John 8 recently, namely the first 11 verses. It's a stirring reminder about the heart of Jesus toward the broken and outcast. When a woman has been caught in adultery, the "high religious" bring her to Jesus, asking Him what to do with her. His response?
"Let him who is without sin be the first to throw to throw a stone at her."
And as the crowd dissipates, Jesus is the only one left.
"Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?" She said, "No one, Lord." "Neither do I condemn you, go, and from now on sin no more."
The good reminder is simple: no matter who you are, where you've been, what you've done - no matter the mess you've made of your life, bridges burned, or baggage you carry with you - the invitation of Jesus remains the same:
Come to me with whatever you have, and I will give you rest.
This, friends, is the Gospel. It's what I want to be about, who I want to be, and what I want to live out. So you can have your religion and self help - but give me the gospel and its Christ, and pour me a beer. You're all welcome to join me.
As an American, I am good as several things just by default:
Eating Driving really big cars with bad gas mileage Complaining about little things Rooting for sports teams Spending too much money Complaining about money I'm a decider
I'm about as full blooded regular white-guy American male as they come. 6 feet (5'11"), cut (if by cut you mean "round cut"), athlete (band nerd), steak lover (I am "round cut"), and a fan of several network television shows.
I was raised in the ghettos of rural Western Colorado...here are some barrios I used to frequent:
and-
I have two parents who are still married. We ate around the table every night. I have three beautiful sisters. We raised dogs...and cats...and other animals. . .like hamsters and gerbils with red eyes and.... [shudder]
I am American. Proud of it? It depends on the situation. I digress....
For instance, when I was 17, I toured Europe in a musical ensemble. Very awesome experience...Disneyland Paris, Hard Rock Cafe, McDonalds - you know, local culture and such. As we flew over the pond to Germany, I had no idea what to expect. How would I communicate? I needed to brush up on my german, so I started studying on the flight and....oh wait they have movies to watch. AWESOME!
So I didn't study. But, "miraculously", I was still able to communicate. Why? Because ENGLISH has swept the globe, just like the USA. Everyone there spoke it....and I'm proud to me an American....
And here I am, 11 years after that fact, a father of a four year old who is beginning to learn english. Here's how a recent "learning" session went....
"Daddy, let's spell some words, okay?" "Ok Micah, what do you want to spell?" "Daddy, let's spell LAKE." "Ok, let's sound it out...l...l..." "L!" "Right, and a...a....a..." "A!" "Great...k....k...k..." "K!" "Yes and....................the last letter has no sound."
WTF? Or, other words he's asked to spell:
Pirate Ship Pizza Flamingo Sesame Street
Silent "E's", Long "I's", Long "O's", Long "E's".....
So this morning, post birthday, I get up, feed my youngest son (my oldest doesn't want to eat - he's sick, don't call social services please) and then start to play with photoshop...which is fun cause i never play with it. I've watched ash do it for a long time now. So I started playing and here it is....
My exploration of narcissism.
It's totally un-professional, totally ragged looking, and humbling (if you ever mess with photos of yourself in photoshop, you get the full on view of your imperfections....like chipped yellow teeth and bad shaving jobs.....ahem).
Welcome new blog banner. I predict you'll be here for about 2 days until I get sick of you, and then you're gone....
So, now that it's post-valentines day, I wanted to clue in all of my best friends on what I did for Ash yesterday. It's a beautiful thing, and, not to brag, but she was floored..... I don't have pics or video of it, but let's just say it went exactly like this:
To all my blog readers, enjoy and soak up your youth. If it's gone - reclaim it, somehow. Go skydiving. Go on that spontaneous trip to Europe. Rekindle that lost romance with your spouse. . . .or. . . . that "special someone" from the chatroom.
Blog readers, reclaim your youth. It will be gone in a flash. The sad (and funny) evidence?
Enjoy your youth. One minute you're a rock legend. The next? You're Jerry Lee Lewis in 2008. Goodness gracious great balls of fire.
What's wrong with the world today? Here's one thought:
Nice one, Flight of the Conchords, but here's another thought. . . .
A smattering of thoughts of a guy (me) raised in the information age:
Do you want your washing machine in white, green, orange, or red?
What kind of car do you want? How many gears? Auto or manual, 4wd, 2wd, FWD, AWD? 2 airbags, or 12? New or used? Buy or lease? 36 months or 48? 60? Do you get a warranty or take your chances? And the seats? Leather in your car? Tan, white, charcoal, or black? Or would you prefer vinyl? Or cloth?
What about your cell phone? Do you want to watch video on it? Live TV? Use it as a video recorder? A digital camera? A computer? Oh, what color do you want it in? Can your phone give you step by step GPS directions? And how many minutes should I get? 700? 1400? AT&T? Verizon? T-Mobile? Definitely not T-Mobile.
Do you want regular yogurt, or whipped? 2% fat, 1% fat, or no fat? What flavor of fruit? Or would you prefer strawberry vanilla cherry? Apple pie? Key lime pie? Boston cream pie? Cherry pie? Blueberry pie?
MMm, tortilla chips! But do I want rounds, regular chips, or the really big ones? Blue? Yellow? White? And what kind of salsa to go with it? Pico? Pace? Guac? On the border? Authentic?
Should I get pizza? Yes! But from what shop? Delivery or pickup? How much does delivery cost? Regular crust or honey wheat? Cheese in the crust? What kind of sauce? What kind of cheese? Do I want taco toppings on my pizza? Meat? Vegetables? What kinds, extra of each? Half one kind, half the other? How much do I tip the driver? Should I pay online, check, cash?
How much caffeine should I get in my coffee? 1 shot, or 2? 3? 4?? Dad??? To stay mug? Should I double cup my beverage? Should I get it extra hot? Less hot? Extra foam, no foam? Some fat, lots of fat, or no fat? Vanilla, almond, hazelnut, mocha? Should I get a tall drink. . .you know, the small one? Venti? Frapuccino? And what coffee shop should I go to? The big corporate chain that nobody likes, but everybody goes to consistently, or the hole in the wall shop?
What kind of water should I have? Ice, or no ice? Mineral water? Evian? Dasani? Aquafina? Do I take my chances with tap water?
That's 5 minutes in my brain some days. Ridiculous. No wonder everyone's stressed out - this stuff surrounds us, chokes us, and we drown slowly.
Too much excess. But, what do you do with it all? I don't know what I'll do. I think I'll start by listening to a sermon or two about this stuff. But what preacher? What church? Reformed? Fire and brimstone? Young? Old? What denomination?
Someone once stated that they would love to be a cynical weapon for Jesus - depricating "retarted" things in the name of Jesus. I don't know who that was. . . .oh wait, it was me, on my blog.
Cynicism, I have long thought, is one of my spiritual gifts. Mostly, I'm able to take my thoughts about how I think things should be run, then dryly rip apart the way things are while making people laugh. And, as I've learned while blogging, Christians sure do laugh (and comment) at cynical remarks about the church. Truly, they must be cynical too - affirming with their remarks that what I am writing is worthy of merit. And me? I lead the bandwagon. Hooray for me. And the notion that I have the gift of cynicism (isn't that in the bible?) was quite misfounded, as I was reminded in the past week.....
Kevin is a budding friend of mine. I've met him in person a grand total of 2 times, emailed him 3 times, talked on the phone 3 times. We don't "go way back" or know each others' stories from start to finish. I am drawn toward Kevin; his love for Christ is infectious, his passion for the Gospel is alluring, and his ability to communicate those things is incredible. So, when he talks, I listen. I emailed him last week and confessed to him my cynical nature - mostly toward suburban American Christianity. For example, where are the blood and nails of the cross displayed in the slick new $4.5 million building placed in a wide open area of the suburbs, moving itself from the heart of the city. I guess God is supposed to do more in the burbs than He can in the city?
His response? Clear, loving, and well timed: "Cynicism, however, is not a good thing.....For me, cynicism was the product of passionate idealism and seeing dream after dream topple. Cynicism was born out of my repulsion to lots of the same things you’re repulsed by. The problem with cynicism is that it takes criticism and combines it with pride."
His words pierced my heart. Criticism, mixed with pride, equals cynicism.
How do I distance myself from cynicism? Criticism isn't bad, and I believe it's fine to question why the church moves away from urban cores to areas populated with the wealthy and elite. However, crossing into the heart motives of the 6 worship leaders at the front (because we NEED 6 singers - for 6 part harmony), dressed really nicely, raising their hands to each song in the worship set: fast-fast-slow-slow-fast (let's give the lord a hand-clap!!) Cynicism. It's wrong. But how do I distinguish between criticism and cynicism?
My passionate idealism for what the church "should look like" goes no farther than what the church doesn't look like currently. I look only at the faults, rip them apart, yet have no idea how to change it or live out my convictions. In other words, I'm part of the problem. What the hell do you do as a Christian for a city that's as broken as Kansas City? What difference can I make while I work on the extreme southern edge of Kansas CIty. . .ahem. . .in the highest priced subdivision in all of Kansas? How do I get involved in the change? Does it require my moving to a lower class neighborhood with my family, getting a job at a local business down there, and just immersing myself in the culture? What's my responsibility as a Christ follower? I guarantee it's not simply to point out all of the church's faults, like an annoying little kid who is constantly poking his finger into your arm asking "hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey. . . . . ." All the while, I act as though I have the answers. Pride. Criticism. Cynicism.
What do you do? Don't say I need to buy the new Sandy Patti disc.
Any sports fans out there? All I hear is silence, but this is my blog, and you're in my world, so you will listen to sports talk.
The super bowl this year? Superb. One of the greatest upsets in all of sports history, the Giants defeated the Patriots 17-14 on a last minute touchdown. And in other news, I consumed 4500 calories from chips and cheese dip, and the commercials are still simply average for $6 million per minute. God bless the USA.
I love when the underdog wins (unless it's against my team). Hoosiers brings it out. Watching The Sandlot brings it out, the Mighty Ducks, Rocky, Braveheart. . .scratch the Mighty Ducks from the list. I don't know why, but when the underdog wins, all becomes right in the world. There is balance, hope, relief. Part of me identifies with underdogs, because I, too, was an underdog - I being the guy who was never that good at sports, grades, school, etc. I married the hot Homecoming queen. Booyah.
We, as fans, can continue looking toward next year with great anticipation. If the Yankees won every year, then what's the draw toward baseball for fans of the Royals?
At any rate, all is right in my world, watching the arrogant patriots go down in flames. All is right in the world. . . .well, almost everything.
Heard on KLOVE on Saturday:
DJ: You might believe that the Patriots will win with all of your heart...you might believe that the Giants will win with all of your heart...but here's what THIRD DAY believes. . . . .(insert Mac Powell)
I saw a story a long time ago on the CBS evening news that captivated me (and no, this isn't about Christian music). In fact, I've thought about this story many times since I was it. Some of you will no doubt remember it.
Jason McElwain was the high school basketball team trainer. Small, enthusiastic, full of life. . .and autistic, he attended every practice of the team's, grabbed rebounds for the players, and helped however he could. Jason attended every game, sat on the bench, acting as the team's biggest cheerleader from outside of the game.
And, I'd butcher the story if I told it any further. Watch:
I cry almost every time I watch this video. It builds in me as I watch the video, beginning when he goes into the game. And, as he hits his first shot, the team bench goes nuts. Then, he hits another, and the crowd starts to go nuts. And finally, he hits the last shot at the buzzer, and the crowd, made up of many of his peers, storms the floor, swarms Jason, and carries him off of the court. And, I don't know, I might be reading way too much into it, but man, what a great picture of glory. I think about myself in high school, how I treated autistic kids in my mind, and I marvel at the depth of love those students showed Jason. To me, it's nothing short of glorious. I want that kind of emotion in my relationships with friends and loved ones, coming out of my chair to cheer them on, to carry them off the floor in their victories, and to cheer just as loudly in their misses.
Random thoughts from the past few days: ++++ I don't like it when people blog for the purpose of telling us how much weight they've lost. Nothing says "I need more comments" louder than that. Come on, how desperate are you?? ++++ The state of the union might be one of the funnier things on the unintentional comedy scale. First, the poor president, bafoon that he is....getting raucous support from his posse, and blank "are you freaking kidding me stares" from the other side of the room. To change that, all you have to say is "I support the troops!", causing the entire audience to burst into simultaneous and thunderous applause. The funniest parts of the night were as they showed the 4 top presidential candidates staring at the camera, with seemingly rehearsed looks on their faces: defiant, strong, determined. . .and rehearsed. Hilarious. Who wants that job? Hilary does, and she's determined, resilient, and strong. . . .so says her campaign manager. ++++ I want to vote for the president who doesn't send people to their deaths in Iraq. ++++ I want to vote for the president who doesn't murder unborn babies. ++++ Crap. ++++ Micah: "Dad, are there bad guys in Kansas City?" Me: "Yes, there are some, buddy." Micah: "Dad, can I buy a gun?" Me: "No. . . .why?" Micah: "So I can shoot all the bad guys in Kansas City." Nice. Cabelas here we come. ++++ There remains no greater feeling as a father than giving my 2 year old a drink in the middle of the night, then rubbing his forehead and watching him drift off to sleep. ++++ WTF? How did I marry the girl who took this? Are you freaking kidding me? Mad skills. ++++ I hate the crunch of 5 day+ old snow under my feet. Mostly because that means that snow's been on the ground for 5 straight days. ++++ My new goal: lose 15 pounds in February. Can you guys get on board with me and support this? I need all the help I can get. You'd help me most by leaving me comments. Please? Pleeeeease? ++++ Oh. Crap.
I love Lost. Just read my post below. I love that throughout each episode, you're introduced to a character's past history that you've never known before. It's what really makes the show intriguing - each person bringing his/her baggage into a new society that has to begin from scratch. And, I think, that as a result of my watching Lost, I have found myself wondering about different people I see around the city - what their story is, where they come from, what brought them to where they are now?
For instance: where did the worker at Blockbuster come from? You know, the employee that likes working at Blockbuster a little TOO much? "You know, that was an excellent film but I would have to recommend you seeing The Kingdom instead it's a really good movie and you know it's also filmed in parts of Arizona and they had to shut down the highways and there's really good action scenes and it's a really good story and it is really thought provoking also and would you like popcorn, pepsi, sour patch kids, or some chocolate to go with your movie tonight, and do you have your blockbuster card, oh you don't you better get out your id so I can verify your account (gaaaaaaaaaasp)."
Who is this guy? Every week, I go to that store, and see the same guy. And he bugs the heck out of me. Why? He's. . .well, weird. Should that really be my attitude as a Christ follower? I think that far too often, I'm content to let the weird and marginalized stay that way, choosing instead to pursue relationships with the affluent and cool. I don't think that's how it should be.
So heck, what's his story? Who's his best friend? Where did he grow up? What does he hope to be when he gets older? What's his favorite movie....besides The Kingdom? Has he ever loved someone? Broken someone's heart? What about his parents?
It sounds maybe a bit retarted, I get it. But maybe I shouldn't be as quick to judge him. Maybe I should cut him a break in my mind. After all, I have a hard enough time figuring myself out sometimes.
Chad and Alysia arrived at our front door, eager to come in from the bitter cold. As we ascended the stairs, thoughts about out friendship came flooding back in to me - reminding me instantly how much I love these two. We met them early after our relocation to Kansas City from Colorado, and I liked them instantly. They were, at the time, still in a semi-newlywed stage, and we welcomed their friendship with open arms.
Chad and Alysia have been two of the people we've been able to go to with a lot of discouragements. They're two of the people we can sit around with deep into the night: smoking pipes, drinking beers, hanging out. Oh, and they have one of the best senses of humor I've ever known. As dry as I am, Chad matches it, plus some. I love it - he challenges me in new, fresh ways. He introduced us to Flight of the Conchords - one of the greatest shows ever. We introduced them to Arrested Development. We both give, we both take. It's beautiful.
These thoughts and memories came flooding in. And, we had a great evening - pizza, conversation, etc. Then, we took the party all the way to our living room...from our dining room...and we settled in, in front of the Apple TV. With YouTube at our fingertips, Chad took Ashley and I to new hilarity. And I'm here to take you there also. I'm not much for standup usually, but this guy's different. Enjoy, and let me know what you think.
It's mid January, and my heart is heavy. Daily, this problem gets worse, although, at least I know I'm not alone. It's 15 degrees outside, and the temperature is dropping. Yet, as cold as it is in Kansas City in January, the bitter chill deepens even while I sit indoors with the heat running - it sinks into my bones and soul - when I consider having to spend an evening in front of the television.
Gone are the implausible, but hooking storylines of 24. . . and Jack Bauer torturing bad guys (or ARE they bad??)
Gone are the ridiculous, but addicting relationships of Grays Anatomy.
Gone are the laugh-out-loud moments from 30-Rock, and The Office.
Heck, even CSI, CSI:NY, CSI:Miami, CSI:SVU or whatever the heck they're called - all gone. And it's all beginning to hit me. Is it sad, my missing good television shows? No. Don't judge: culture matters, get over it. . . read on.
Instead, what do we have? A steady gamut of unscripted reality shows, game shows, and other entertainmentless, hour-long, advertisement filled death traps - disguised as dramatic, heart wrenching, life-changing, meaningful "gifts" to their viewers. Thank you, Hollywood Writers. Thank you for lengthening my winter. And, while I don't watch them, thank you for subjecting me to shows like:
The Power of 10 Dance War: Bruno vs. Carrie Ann Wife Swap Super Nanny 1 vs. 100 Celebrity Apprentice American Gladiators The Biggest Loser Deal or no Deal
And praise Jesus for the one redeeming thing coming out of my television display this winter: Lost. May the next two weeks fly. A 2 hour premiere - in 2 weeks.
God has started to revive my heart, for which I'm grateful. And, I don't know why, but lately, in the car, I've flipped to 97.3 - Christian Radio (formerly, the best sports radio station in Kansas City, but I'm not F-ing bitter). I go, hoping to hear a good song, I leave with blog material. . . and not hearing a good song.
Heard today. . . on K-LOVE. . . .
The Women of Faith conference is on its way to Texas - and all women are invited. Come, revive your faith. You're invited to a weekend of awesome worship (probably Darlene Zzzeck), and awesome speakers, and your chance to meet:
Movie Jesus.
Jim Caviezel.
I'm sure. . . ahem. . . it will be a very. . . um. . . spiritual experience for them. "HOLD ME IN YOUR ARMS, JESUS!! NEVER LET ME GO!"
Interesting characters seen around Kansas City lately:
-A "gangsta". No, maybe not a gangsta, but probably a rapper in town for a show, with his posse - in a very "white", American sports bar in Westport. Yes, a real rapper. Yes, he wore a bullet proof vest over his shirt. Yes, he had a real posse, complete with really big guys that like to stare you down and surround him everywhere he walked. Yes, he said the F-word...a lot (which must be a lot because I work with construction workers). Yes, I stared them down. Yes, I am lying about that part.
-Another type of "gangsta". Yes, his pants and jacket matched and were baggy. Yes, his hat was backward and to the side. Yes, he had a lot of acne. Yes, his glasses were slightly smudged. Yes, he had a nasally voice - very apparent when he spat off his slew of obscenities. Yes, he was pretty fly for a white guy. Yes, he stared me down as he walked into Chick-Fil-A.
That's okay, I thought to myself. His mom probably still tucks him into his Star Wars sheets. Nerd.
I have, admittedly, a charmed existence. My two nearly perfect children are sleeping in their beds - they fell asleep quickly tonight. My best friend, and love of my life: my wife, is pursuing photography leads as I write; a business that has exploded recently, thereby exploding passion from within her heart. I married a hotty. I have a good job - while other guys in my company can't work because of the weather, I get to work. I work for a good man. We had 4 of our best friends over tonight to share life with: hopes, fears, pains, joys, success, failure. We have community. I have two sets of parents that love me, my family, the Lord. I have sisters that are living out their lives' dreams adventurously and I get to proudly bear witness. I have friends that care enough about me to buy me a plane ticket to go visit them. I have friends who will be published writers and artists someday. I have a friend that leads worship, and if he put himself out there, would be playing at the Passion worship conferences or recording CD's in two years - he's that anointed. I have a missionary friend who has given away "the easy life" to serve Christ - pouring her life into the lives of teenage girls who have been abandoned and are parentless. My friends and family are, in the words of Derek Zoolander: all really, really, really, ridiculously good looking. I am honored to be in their presence whenever God allows.
I own two cars and have no car payment. I'm listening to digital music through my television set as we speak - scrolling through any of 4000+ songs for my auditory pleasure, typing on my Apple laptop, on the internet while sitting on my posh couch. My heat is running on a cold night, keeping me warm. The roof over my head has kept the drizzle and snow off of my clothing. I haven't shivered at all today. I'm full from one of my favorite dinners: a pesto pasta dish with chicken (an Ashley specialty). The two large helpings I had tonight really hurt my stomach because I ate so much - now I know what it's like to suffer!! The water I drank tonight had lemon AND lime in it.
And here I sit, rich in the eyes of the world, basking in the glow of my earthly possessions' glory. I sit here, with everything I could have ever dreamed of having. I sit here, with all of it at my disposal, right now.
Across the city, a young mother has just been beat up by her husband. Many thousands of men and women are sleeping outside. . .and it's cold. Father's are leaving their kids, girls are having abortions, kids are hungry, drugs come easy. Cancer is ripping families apart. Elderly people die alone in nursing homes. Depression haunts thousands, despair hovers over so many households. Houses are being repossessed. People are unemployed. The public schools are among the worst in the nation (no joke). Poverty holds Kansas City's urban core in its icy, unending grip. Apathy grows, pornography sells, brokenness runs rampant. On the "other side of the tracks," wealth drives children toward rampant materialism. People leave the city for the safety of the suburbs. Churches are moving there too. The need for higher dollars keeps some parents living as workaholics.
I don't want to make bigger statement than necessary. I won't preach at you. But I'm definitely being tugged at toward things that matter. May God break my heart for the things that break His - more and more - in 2008.
I am over a quarter century old. Yet, I continue to learn.
Lesson for the day? A pair of ripped jeans (right "down the middle" so to speak) can ruin the fun I have at a 3 year old's birthday party - pronto. Happy Birthday Annabelle. In 10 years, what will her memory be of her 3rd birthday? The present we got her? No. Some brown haired guy with a gaping hole in his jeans.
An easy solution? My jacket tied around my waist. Fun resumes, life goes on, and I look like a jackass. Although, come to think of it, how's that different than any other day?
Really, who's cooler than Jeremy? Don't answer that.
Today I found what's destined to be a mainstay in my music collection forever.
Smash-Ups. Take two Christian songs, and pit them against each other in a battle to the death in Jesus' name. One artist's lyrics play over the other artists' music, and vice versa.
Track listing: 1. Steven Curtis Chapman "Dive" vs. Grits "All Fall Down" vs. Audio Adrenaline "Get Down" 2. dc talk "Colored People" vs. Newsboys "Entertaining Angels" 3. Switchfoot "You Already Take Me There" vs. Grits "TN Bwoys" 4. Rebecca St James "God" vs. Earthsuit "One Time" 5. Tobymac "Yours" vs. Relient K "Pressing On" 6. Benjamin Gate "All Over Me" vs. John Reuben "Do Not" 7. dc Talk "Jesus Freak" vs. ZOEgirl "Dismissed" 8. Newsboys "Shine" vs. PAX217 "Tonight" 9. Steven Curtis Chapman "Live Out Loud" vs. Out Of Eden "River" 10. Carmen "Who's In The House" vs. ZOEgirl "Even If"
I believe, fully, that I know 5 people who will one day be famous. And since I have about 5 readers, that means that if you read this blog - you'll be famous one day....I firmly believe that.
One is my sister who moves today for Nashville, because country just lives in Nashville. . . so she should too.
I have her autograph, and her old yearbook pictures. . . and nobody is prouder she's going after her dream than me. . . and nobody believes she'll actually make it there more than I do.
Have fun, Annie. I love you. Don't forget me. . . we used to share a room.
What the heck is a caucus? Why not just call it a "test election" or "JV election"? Why do we need to know who's ahead in Iowa? Iowa? Land of farms and. . . .fields. Iowa? Who decided these rules?
"I am a bundle of paradoxes. I believe and I doubt, I hope and get discouraged, I love and I hate, I feel bad about feeling good, I feel guilty about not feeling guilty, I am trusting and suspicious. I am honest and I still play games. Aristotle said I am a rational animal; I say I am an angel with an incredible capacity for beer."
