A Very Good Weekend

I think I got a couple of people worried about me with my last post. I'm happy to give an update that ought to assuage any fears that remain. I had had a dark week, but after babysitting on Thursday night, I spend Friday hanging out with my roommate and we had a blast, watched movies and ate ice cream together. Then I got up early on Saturday morning and went to Habitat for Humanity. I spent the morning laying grass, loading and unloading materials and cleaning up a very nasty cricket/roach infested garbage site. And believe it or not, I had a really great (though muddy, painty and skittery) time. It felt so good to be doing something with my time that was absolutely worthwhile.

After Habitat, I had a date set with a new friend here to check out another church that has a Saturday night service. I know my last report said I had found a church. I was wrong. After attending that church for a few weeks I was convinced it wasn't the right place for me after all. God has a great way of making me uncomfortable when I'm in a place where he doesn't want me to be, so that I can always tell that I've found the right place when I enter it and I'm at peace. Well, we walked into this church on Saturday night and I felt my peace from God. The worship was real, and the sermon was challenging and meaningful. So, I decided to go back on Sunday morning to see if this church was for real, and I literally almost burst into tears in the service, I was so happy. This is the first church I've ever been to that does worship that is both excellent AND genuine. There's no showmanship, no bad performance, but the worship team includes a full orchestra and a 50 member choir. Now, I can see the look on your faces. You don't believe me. That's ok, I wouldn't believe me either, but it's true. The place rocks.

I left the sanctuary praising God for his incredible goodness to me, and hopped into my car to go home. But, when I put my key in the ignition, nothing happened. Ella wasn't talkin to me. I didn't panic though, because of all the places for a car to break down, a church on a Sunday morning is a darn good place. I snagged some kind old men walking to their car and within 5 minutes they had discovered the problem (not a serious one) and had me back on the road. God is so good. The sermon that morning had been about walking through the valley. He had even used a broken down car example. And God was proving to me His faithfulness to take me out of the valley. He always does.

So, that was my awesome weekend. The week has been a little hectic, but I got a job today, and I think it's going to be a really awesome place to work. I can do my homework there, I'm a receptionist for the Biology department, and my boss is really relaxed. So, all that to say, things are going well. Not to worry. God is always always good. Oh, and yesterday I got a package from LA with gifts and notes and CD's from all my friends, and it made me laugh and cry and basically made my month. I am always grateful for having incredible friends like you all.

I made banana bread today. It's really good. Can't seem to get cookies to turn out here though. One friend suggested it was the consistency of the butter. The crickets are back. They'd gone for a few days but they're back. Ah well. God bless,
Jerome

A Dark Week (and maybe it's end?)

So, my Dad came to visit me this weekend (he has regular business in Houston, about once a month) and we spent Saturday together, seeking out the sights of Waco. You didn't think there were any, did you? Well, I bet you never thought you could see the fence of the president's ranch! Or, at least the road leading up to the fence of the president's ranch... Alternately, you could see the site of the famous cult massacre of the 80's. You'd be amazed to hear how many people associate Wacko only with the Branch Davidian incident. There are all kinds of conspiracy theories and government accusations, it's really nifty! Apparently there's a museum, but we got there too late and it was closed.

So, Dad came and left, and the next couple of days were really, really, really hard for me. Some of you probably noticed my demeanor getting a little grim of late. I think it's just the natural process of moving to a new place. There's an initial period of excitement at the newness of everything, and once that fades the reality of the situation starts to hit home. For instance, I don't see anyone here who has know me for more than a month. It's not that they're bad people, but I just don't have any intimate or even good friends within 1000 miles. Now, I will, in about 6 months, but for right now I'm pretty alone. Cell phone conversations home and to friends aren't really enough to keep a person going sometimes. So, remembering what it was like to be around people who know you was a big shock. It made Dad's leaving throw my new reality into a pretty harsh light for a couple of days.

Thankfully, God remains faithful in hard times. Even though I still feel lonely, I had a really great experience tonight. I went over to a colleague's house to watch his kids for the evening, and spending time with them really revived me. Life beyond graduate students is still going on, and it's bright and exciting just like it always has been. And if I get to sit with these kids often enough, I'll get to know them and they'll get to know me, and I'll be able to impact their lives for good. And that's something worth living for. More than philosophy ever could be.

As far as the rest of my life, I'm thinking about getting a job, I've applied some places on campus (I'm still an alien, unable to work anywhere but at college) and I might end up working at a cafeteria, but I sincerely hope not. In fact, I think if that's all there is, I just won't do it. But work has the promise of another diversion from studies, working me slowly towards a balanced life. I heard about another church I might check out. Still trying to find a home somewhere. I joined Habitat for Humanity though, and I got my first assignment for this Saturday, and I'm really looking forward to it. Again, something to get me back to being well-rounded again. All I'm missing is music! Music anywhere!! I'll just have to keep looking. God bless.
Jerome.

The appeal of story

Today in a moment of inexcusable procrastination, I was reading through the Baylor english grad student profiles, and the posts I read really got me thinking about the idea of romanticism and heroism that seems to be available to english majors. I'll try to express it here, because it's something that I find deep in my heart too, but I just don't know if it'll make its way onto the page. Here goes:

I think people, at least alot of people, have a sense of heroism, adventure and drama in them that they feel like they need to suppress for the sake of realism. To desire a romantic life (in the classical sense) is to desire a dream that doesn't track reality. It's a fantastic world peopled with heroes and villians, where real struggles against evil are fought and won and pure, good people are honored. I think it's the same world that Christmas is associated with in my mind. It's a world that has magic in it, and that feels fulfilling and comforting in a way the real world doesn't. The fantasy of stories excites deep feelings of honor, goodness, courage, love and happiness, and I think that we all desire to be a part of that world but believe that such a world doesn't exist.

I want to know what that desire is. I can think of a couple of options right now, so I'll do the Aquinas thing and give them to you:
1) It's characteristic of people to want to make things more linear than they are in the real world. It's like our minds are too simple to grasp the complexity of life, and so we imagine worlds that are less complex. Our desire for fairy tales is our desire for the world to be "at our level" rather than being in many ways quite beyond us.
2) One standard Christian answer would be that this is the way things were "supposed to be". In fact, every time people have good desires, someone wants to come along and tell them that's a longing for paradise. I buy that explanation for alot of things, but I think in this case it misses the mark. Paradise doesn't seem to need courage or bravery, there are no epic battles between good and evil. Even things like honor probably wouldn't go to people at all in paradise (maybe that's a contentious claim). Seems to me though that in paradise all the praise goes to God.
3) Life is boring and stories are interesting because we can imagine them feeling in the real world the way we feel when we're watching them. You know the feeling of triumph you get watching William Wallace urge on his troops? You probably imagine that the characters in he's talking to are feeling the same way. And that's a feeling I just don't get much in real life. Maybe if life were like a story I would feel like that more.
4) In the same vein, stories are sort of automatically important by virtue of the fact that they're being retold. And everyone wants to be worth talking about.
5) Maybe stories express a reality that exists but is elusive in reality. Perhaps the spiritual battle going on behind the scenes? I think one brilliant thing about Lewis' Narnia series is that the characters never seem to understand that they're in a story. They don't know that the actions they're taking are momentous and divinely ordained. They don't expect that they'll succeed or that their role is important. Maybe Lewis is accurately portraying the way things go for us too. Maybe we're important actors in a great drama and we're just not aware of it, and that's why drama strikes a chord with us.

None of these explanations is satisfactory to me. I don't know if I've even expressed the longing yet. Maybe it's just plain old escapism. But that's to beg the question. Why is drama an escape? It touches something in us. Maybe it embodies the real world in a way that helps us make sense of it. But none of this explains the magic, the desire to be part of the fantasy. To be the hero, or the damsel. Why do we love magic? Fantasy? Why do we want it to be real?

The Godfather

Ok, so I posted a new blog a couple of days ago and nothing is showing up on my blog site. That's annoying. We'll see if this one works any better.
In my last post (the one that's not showing up) I mentioned that I was going to watch the Godfather this weekend. Well, I did. Let me just say, wow. Oh, and I'm completely and utterly in love with Michael Corleone. I know he shot his brother. He was having a bad day. Give the guy a break.
Seriously though, I was absolutely taken, not only by the incredible cinematography, but by the story itself. It absolutely captured me. For one thing, the idea of a family that is as loyal to one another as that is something that just appeals to me. I'm convinced that after centuries of family clans, the present tendency to live by oneself and keep in mediocre touch with one's family is absurd and perverse. The situation I'm in, living outside of my fathers house before I'm married, is unheard of and bad, and I can feel it. It robs me of my ability to trust and lean on my husband by teaching me to take care of myself.
Feminists, please understand that I am not here advocating a bad ignorance or subservience. What I believe, however, is that it is the role of the husband to care for his wife. If a woman is used to taking care of herself, not only does she relinquish the position with reluctance, but she'll itch to pick it up again the moment her husband does something doubtful. As a result, the husband of such a woman is constantly under review. If he fails to satisfy his wife as a decision-maker, he loses her support and respect. As these are the things most important to his manhood, the loss is devastating. So, the isolationism of American society is such that it results in emasculation and mistrust in marriages, and coupled with the social acceptability of divorce, undermines the whole institution of the family because each role is constantly under review. We love the Godfather because being part of a family is something that can't be lost. The ultimate failing for Michael is murdering his brother. That's the first time he violates that all-important rule, and it is the moment that devastates him.
The other thing I love about Michael is the incredibly protective attitude he takes towards his wife and children. The scene where assassins fire on his home in Nevada is particularly poignant. In the hail of bullets descending on the bedroom, Michael immediately begins crawling towards his wife, pulls her behind the bed and covers her with his own body to protect her. Greater love has no man that this... Of course, the fact that his daughter is killed by a bullet meant for him is the ultimate tragedy for Michael for this same reason. And, despite the atrocious acting of the young lady, you feel that both Michael and Vincent have failed at the one thing they strove to do above all else. To prize family this much, to strive to protect it above any personal motive, is completely powerful for me.
Perhaps all men have this desire, I keenly hope that they do, and the fact that so many men love these movies makes me believe they might. Why is it so uncommon for them to act on it? I think (his questionable activity notwithstanding), that every woman would want to be married to a man like Michael, who would put his family before everything and protect her at any cost.
(Insert corny joke about "Being like Mike" here)

Update

Ok, so I've posted a couple of rants recently, but the main purpose of this blog was to tell everyone about the wild world of Wacko, so here I go:

School - I remember predicting that this year would be way, way less busy than past years, and it turns out I was right. Much to my confusion (and at times, my annoyance) there just isn't that much to do when you're only taking 3 classes, so I've had tons of free time since I've gotten here. I've been spending most of it reading, so much so that I actually think my education in literature has surpassed my education in philosophy so far. It's nice, having a chance to read what I want for once, but one wonders what will happen when the novelty wears off...

Home: In a complete reversal from my previous living arrangements, I'm simply swimming in space in my new apartment. My roomate, whom I've come to really enjoy over the past month, tends to stay mostly in her own space, and I in mine, so it feels more like living alone than sharing a place. She cooks, I clean, and the whole arrangement is very agreable to both of us. The only real downside is...you're still living in Wacko. Additionally, right now we're living in Wacko in September, which means we're in the middle of cricket season. Did you know crickets can fly? They do in Wacko. Right at you. When you're lying in bed. And then they burrow under your mattress. Yeah.
On the up side, I'm told that within the next month we'll have an invasion of Grackles (small birds) on the scale of a Hitchcock film, and that they'll eat up all the little critters. What a comfort.

Church: In a vain but hearty attempt, I searched high and low for a good church in Wacko other than the "philosophy church". Those from LA will remember me making a similar attempt there to scorn the norm and find a church of my very own. Again, my efforts have failed, and I've decided to follow the crowd and attend the church all my friends go to. On the up side, it's a really cool place. A Baptist church that honors High Church liturgy, has thoughtful sermons and really beautiful worship, a choir worthy of my Los Angeles days and a congregation bursting with graduate students I can commune with on a Spiritual and intellectual level. It's not perfect, and there's a couple too many philosophers there for my tastes, but in the end compromise is inevitable, I suppose.

So, there you have it. My most recent recommendations are:

Books - anything by George MacDonald, he rocks! And NOT Wuthering Heights, if you can avoid it in any way.

Movies - Henry V and generally everything Kenneth Brannagh has ever acted in/written/directed. Tonight I'm watching The Godfather for the first time...I'll let you know.

Music: Denzel Sinclaire, Harry Connick Jr., and any other man who's arranging Jazz standards. Ella and Louis. Dave Brubeck, and always Manhattan Transfer and the Charlie Brown Christmas Soundtrack (I'm serious about this last one. If you haven't heard it, it's probably my favorite CD ever made). The Gaither Vocal band, Simon and Garfunkel (America is my favorite song right now). I could go on...

Blessings, friends!

Call me Dr. Phillis

I love watching parents. It's one of those things I started noticing about 5 years ago, when the thought of being a Mom stopped being wierd or gross. The day I started to think that being a parent would be kindof fun, I started taking notice of the parents all around me, and it's amazing the different parenting styles you see.

Some parents are clearly bad, simply because they never learned how not to be selfish. They're the people who had no control over their lives as single people, and the addition of spouse and children has done nothing to improve their situation. They'll repeat the same phrase 10 times to their child, increasing their volume with each repetition, while trying to do 6 other things, when all the while their poor child is trying desperately to communicate with them, and getting absolutely no actual attention. Yelling at a child and paying attention to her are two radically different things, and those who haven't learned to focus their attention, to live intentionally as single adults, lack the skills to actually stop what they're doing, and seek to understand their children.

Apart from the clearly inept models, there are some styles of parenting that are valid in theory, but that I think can't ever suffice in practice. The first is polite parenting. There are some parents who are actually worried about upsetting their children by telling them "no". Now, here I'm not talking about those who appease their kids in order to be left alone, those fall into the first category. I'm talking about those who have kept a sort of distance with their children, such that their afraid of inciting an honest display of emotion. Like they would be embarassed if their children were to cry in their presence. This kind of formality was completely absent in my upbringing, and frankly I can't fathom a child brought up in that manner ever caring to involve his parents in any aspect of his life. The parent spends the first few years establishing the distance, holding the poor things at arms length, and after that the job is done for them.

Of course, there are plenty of other failings parents can have, and all have some sort of deficiencies. There are the "no" parents, who say "no" almost out of reflex, regardless of what their children ask for. I understand teaching children not to expect to get everything they want, but why place in them the assumption that they won't get the things they want? Childhood teaches a child about more than just their parents. Those patterns learned in childhood are the frameworks that dictate how a person views the world for their entire life. Victims of a "no" parent eventually stop bothering to ask, and that will carry through to adulthood.

The thing I think kids need more than anything else is attention. I don't mean spoiling them, but I mean taking the sacrifice to actually LISTEN to them when they talk. To think hard about whether they should get that thing they want, and then sit down and explain to them the reasons why or why not. To take their questions seriously, to work at finding activities they like to do and to put in the effort to make them into well-rounded people. The sacrifice it takes to do this is increadible, I'm sure. It really is laying down your life. It means not being lazy, and not being selfish, and those are the two hardest things you can ask a person to do, but some parents do it. I saw some tonight. And it's so worth it.

Sand Paper

I've been thinking lately of the virtues of sand paper. Think about it, it's a cool concept. Sand paper is this rough, truly unpleasant surface. Have you ever tried to sand something with a two sided piece of it? By the end, your fingers are an absolute mess, bloody and raw (and chances are, the thing you were trying to sand has experienced no change...) But, provided you work at it reasonably hard, the effect of rubbing this rough, unpleasant stuff against a surface is that the surface gets smoother - loses its rough edges. Isn't that wierd? The only way to smooth out the rough edges of a surface is to rub it against something rough.

Well, the last couple of weeks have been for me a sand-paper period. Turns out, the same concept works for human nature too. Lord knows, the only way to smooth out the rough edges on me seems to be to sit me down and scrape the stuff all over me. But, in the end like a craftsman putting the finishing touches on his table-leg, I see that the sand paper is doing some good. The concept I'm learning right now is one that's been proclaimed in the Christian world to wastefulness. It's simply that bad things, done to good people by a good God, are good. Think Boethius - if God is choosing to put me through trials right now, the point of those trials are to teach me, to improve me, and to make me better able to enjoy Him.

The reason I'm re-iterating this platitude is not to try to endure my hardships by convincing myself and you that they'll be worth it. Mine is a testimony to the fact that I really am being improved by these trials:
In the past three weeks I have experienced 7 separate instances in which I discovered that I did not have enough money for something I needed to pay for. I'm not talking about a louffa sponge either, I mean $700 charge on my school account that I wasn't prepared for. 7 times. The first time, I got very scared, cried, argued, and then prayed about it, and found that I had the money. The second or third time it was similar, though I was more exhasperated each time. But, each time I discovered that there was a way out. The situation was not unendurable. By the fourth, I had begun to recognize the pattern and, thanks to a very good George MacDonald book I was reading, I began to wonder whether this wasn't a cosmic tutorial. What if God was trying to impress in my mind that in situations where I thought I didn't have enough, I could trust that He wouldn't let me fall. He would always provide a way out because He's taking care of me. Well, as I've said, that was only the 4th of 7 times, and I won't be surprised if I experience more. But, every time since then, I've been quicker to pray, slower to become angry and more willing to trust God with it. I can actually watch the habit being built up in myself.

So, there you go. What if life really is a grand tutorial, the good and the bad all intended to form us into the best we can be? You can trust that He cares enough to do it.

Apparently a fresh start was needed

Hello all,
It seems that my previous blog and I had a bit of a falling out. It won't return my emails, let me in to post with it, nothing. So, I'll take this as my cue to begin afresh, and perhaps write a blog more worth reading this time. I know that many have been anxious to hear about my recent move and my new digs, so I'll take some time now to tell you what it's like here in Wacko.

About three weeks ago now, I was sitting in my home in TO, waiting in a bit of a panick for my international forms to come through the mail (I decided jumping the border, though doable, might start the whole thing off on the wrong foot). Anxiously I waited, with nothing but a paint brush to keep my mind occupied, but great glorious day! At the last the paperwork did find me, and I was in the car moments later, driving south.

After three days of cruise control on roads as straight as an arrow, shady motels, and very very bad continental breakfasts, we rode triumphantly into the bustling metropolis of Wacko (as I've come to call it). We were greeted at my apartment by my roomate, a native new yorker whose company has made these past few weeks better than endurable. She likes Kant, dogs and Rocky movies, and in the end that's good enough for me. We spent the next few days heaped to our foreheads in logistics, acquiring everything from a drivers lisence to a vacuum cleaner and then some. Apart from a few crickets (some more friendly than others), we've had very few people in the apartment, but it's cozy and VERY roomy compared to previous living arrangements, and we are both quite content here.

A few days after I came, I made my way to Houston to find my father and my vehicle, whom I have come to refer to as Ella. She is a cherry red Grand Am with a heart of gold and chew marks on her parking break (I assume the previous owner had either a very large dog or a very angry husband). Ella and I have become fast friends, and I hope we will share this friendship for many years to come.

Having returned with Ella, I began classes, and discovered that no matter where you are, school is pretty much school. There are professors, reading assignments, colleagues and stresses, and generally nothing out of the ordinary. I find my fellow grad students to be extremely warm and welcoming, and already feel very much a part of the community. The fact that these colleagues are now mostly married men, some twenty years my senior, has taken some adjusting to, but even that is nearly gone.

There you have it - my life thus far. I will continue writing with perhaps more personal touches, now that all the facts are on the table. I hope you all enjoy. Blessings,
Jerome