Vandal!!!

Egads! Someone just vandalized a bunch of my photos! I wonder WHO that diabolical fiend could be?

Okay, that's actually not that bad a look for me...

Umm... is the dog collar making anyone else uncomfortable?

Yeah, I find myself in this situation a lot. Care to guess which side wins?

I do NOT own an "I'm With Stupid" shirt. Period.

Wow. That's some crazy hair.

Okay, now this just crosses the line! How dare he mock this most sacred of all sporting events?! At least he didn't make fun of the French.

Sad. This was the only wedding reception I've ever had fun at. Now my memories are ruined forever.

Well... I actually kinda dig that hat.

This is just juvenile. The frog looks kinda nice, though.

Is that a red-mesh wife beater? And do I have a tribal band tattoo around my elbow? Is that even possible?

Hey, Taylor!

"Hey Stephen, I know looks can be deceiving
But I know I saw a light in you
And as we walked we were talking
I didn't say half the things I wanted to

Of all the girls tossing rocks at your window
I'll be the one waiting there even when it's cold
Hey Stephen, boy, you might have me believing
I don't always have to be alone

'Cause I can't help it if you look like an angel
Can't help it if I wanna kiss you in the rain so
Come feel this magic I've been feeling since I met you
Can't help it if there's no one else
Mmm, I can't help myself"

-Taylor Swift

XOXOXO

Wow, Taylor. I didn't know you felt that way. Well, I must say that I'm deeply, DEEPLY flattered, but I'm afraid that this... well, it just isn't the right time for you and me, babe. I'm sorry. Maybe you could patch things up with that Jonas guy. Yeah, I know he can't hold a candle to me, but sometimes you've just got to settle.

Tell you what: In a few months, if I can't work things out with Norah, I'll give you a call.

What's Going On With Love Story?

Sorry, Miss Swift, but I think you got it wrong.

Okay, so “Love Story” is not exactly my “pick of the week.” That’s okay – we’ve obviously got different tastes in music. I’ll forgive you, even though my opinion is OBVIOUSLY so much superior in this regard. I’m referring, of course, to your blatant misuse/abuse of two classic pieces of English literature.

Yeah, Romeo and Juliet is THE classic love story, the one everyone turns to when they talk about the perfect couple. But, you see, the reason Romeo and Juliet is such a great story is BECAUSE they both die unhappy at the end. The tragedy of Romeo and Juliet is what distinguishes a truly powerful piece of literature from sappy, highly marketable Disney fodder, which (no offense) is exactly what your song is. The song’s cheerful, peppy, and optimistic – everything Romeo and Juliet ISN’T. There are plenty of other love stories to draw from that don’t end quite so… gruesomely… for the romantic protagonists.

And another thing: what’s the deal with the scarlet letter? You know the line:

“‘Cause you were Romeo, I was a scarlet letter
And my daddy said stay away from Juliet.”

…

…

…

What?

No, seriously, I don’t get it. Have you ever READ The Scarlet Letter? Hawthorne’s protagonist, a woman named Hester Prynne, is ostracized by the Puritan society in which she lives for her sexual promiscuity. The village leaders force her to sew a big red “A” into her clothing to mark her as an outcast. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt here: you’re writing a song about a character who’s NOT you, and therefore this is not a confession of your teenage indiscretion.
But why include the scarlet letter, which is basically a big neon sign that says to the whole world, “Hey! I’m a hussy!”

Why do this? Why take elements from The Scarlet Letter and Romeo and Juliet – which have nothing in common, really, other than their classification as “Books No One Wants to Read in Twelfth Grade English and Yet are Found on Every Curriculum Reading List in the USA” – and include them in a tinny teeny-bopper pop song. It’s almost like you’re TRYING to sow the seeds of deep, sinister meaning into an otherwise inoffensive lyric… actually, I totally approve of that. Carry on.

That STILL doesn’t excuse “Teardrops on My Guitar,” though.

Stomach Kisses

Apparently, I’m bad with money. When I should be saving, I go out and buy four pints of Ben and Jerry’s – which I then eat in a single sitting. You haven’t lived until you’ve had their Cinnamon Buns ice cream – which you can easily find using the Flavor Locator (http://www.benjerry.com/flavors/our-flavors/#).

Part of the problem is that I LOVE to shop – usually for books, movies, and video games. Sometimes I’ll even go for a round of clothes shopping and like it. Not shoes, though. I hate shopping for shoes.

If I go out window-shopping, I tend to come home with a couple panes of glass, anyway. The last time I went out, though, I had a bit of success. I went to a GameStop to see if, by chance, they have some of those obscure PS2 games I’ve really wanted to get my hands on. I’m proud to report that I did NOT succumb to the temptation to buy Sly Cooper and the Thievius Raccoonus or Lego Batman. To celebrate this momentous occasion, I patted myself heartily on the back and ran straight to Barnes and Noble, where I spent $40 on a book of poetry and two collections of Captain America comic books.

Now, as cool as Captain America is… wait, you don’t think he’s cool? Look, in one of these issues I just bought, Cap jumps off a building and BLOCKS A MISSILE WITH HIS FREAKIN’ SHIELD! If that doesn’t register as “super awesome” on your “Awesometer,” you may need to get it checked. I’m sure the friendly faces at your local Auto Zone would be glad to help.

Anyway, what’s REALLY stuck with me the past little while is a new poem I read by Michael Ondaatje (pronounced on-da-AT-je… okay, I don’t have the faintest clue how to pronounce that). I picked up some poems he wrote in a collection called The Cinnamon Peeler… mainly because the title looked cool.

So apparently I consider cinnamon to be twice as “cool” as Captain America. In case you were keeping track.

Now, I don’t know the title of this particular poem. It’s either untitled, or part of a long series of poems called “Rock Bottom,” or it’s from a BOOK called Rock Bottom, or something. Doesn’t matter – in any case, the poem touches on an interesting subject. Here it is:

Kissing the stomach
kissing your scarred
skin boat. History
is what you’ve travelled on
and take with you

We’ve each had our stomachs
kissed by strangers
to the other

and as for me
I bless everyone
who kissed you here

Maybe it’s my sheltered Mormon upbringing, but the sensuality of this poem really struck me. It shouldn’t have surprised me, though. I should have seen the “romance” coming. I mean, it says right on the cover of the book that Michael Ondaatje also wrote The English Patient.

The reason I’ve been thinking about this poem so much recently has less to do with raw sensuality (although… never mind. My mom reads these) and more to do with the sentiment brought up in the last stanza: “I bless everyone/who kissed you here.” Now, to me, that’s some deep “free love” sentiment.

See, I’m a pretty jealous individual. I’d be more prone to say “emotionally needy and insane,” but you might say “jealous” if you’re trying to be nice (and is it weird that I think jealousy is less shameful than emotional neediness?). If I’m in a relationship with someone – heck, if I’m even INTERESTED in someone – and they bring up a former boyfriend, I tend to get a bit moody and withdrawn, like I immediately start wondering what they have that I don’t. And I admit that’s a bit two-faced. I mean, I hope the girls who might be interested in me don’t get all mopey over my past relationships. Generally, though, that line of thinking doesn’t help me get over the sadness.

Ondaatje presents a different way of looking at the situation. He goes beyond the shared experience of “Yeah, we’ve both been with other people before we found each other.” To him, somehow, the men in his lover’s past are… well, they’re holy. I can’t think of how else to say this… it’s like Ondaatje recognizes in them kindred spirits: fellow worshippers united in faith to that same being – the woman. If nothing else, I guess, Ondaatje acknowledges these other men have… good taste in women?

I think I’m still unpacking exactly why this poem struck me the way it has. Maybe the rest of you don’t think much about your significant others’ histories – or, if you do, you don’t get moody over it like I do – but Ondaatje’s attitude, for me, is a radical approach to dealing with the past. Something about it feels… right. More respectful, almost devotional. And I think I approve.

With, you know, the sentiment. The spirituality, I mean. Not the gratuitous stomach-kissing. Not that. Ew.

Photo Collage

I think I finally figured out what memes are good for - blog fodder when you can't think of anything to write about. Besides, this actually looked like fun, so here it is.

DIRECTIONS:
- Go to Google image search.
- Type in your answer to each question.
- Choose a picture
- Use this website ( http://bighugelabs.com/flickr/mosaic.php ) to make your collage.

QUESTIONS:
1. What is your name?
2. What is your favorite food?
3. What is your hometown?
4. What is your favorite color?
5. What is your favorite movie?
6. What is your favorite drink?
7. What is your dream vacation?
8. What is your favorite dessert?
9. What is one word to describe yourself?
10. How are you feeling right now?
11. What do you love most in the world?
12. What do you want to be when you grow up?
13. What makes you laugh?
14. What makes you cry?
15. What are you great at?
16. What are you terrible at?

I'm a Dork, and That's Okay

Sundays are supposed to be a day of rest. For many, that means studying scripture, spending time with family, attending church… well, I did all that this past Sunday, as well as indulged in several hours of gratuitous Doctor Who watching. And I must say that the episode where the Doctor teams up with William Shakespeare to battle witches may now rank on my list of “The Coolest Things in the World” between Jim Halpert asking Pam on a date and Ben and Jerry’s cinnamon buns ice cream. Seriously, if Batman had showed, I might have died of joy.

As much as I enjoyed my evening in the “Who-niverse,” it got me thinking about how many incredibly DORKY habits I have. Even though I claim not to be fanatical about any of them… oh, who am I kidding? I just said “Who-niverse,” for crying out loud.

Now, I say “dorky,” and I mean “dorky,” not “nerdy” or “geeky.” See, a “nerd” is someone completely given over to academics – specifically math and science. “Geeks,” on the other hand, tend to obsess over a single subject, usually something along the lines of Star Trek or comic books. I have a brother who claims to be a “sports” geek, obsessing over stats and team-lineups.

“Nerds” are starting to gain a bit of respect from the mainstream. At least, they tend to find success in their obsessions. As for “geeks,” they may not find quite the fame that nerds tend to, but even their little hobbies get a bit of decent press – mostly favorable. Both “nerds” and “geeks” tend to take at least a little pride in their labels. Nobody wants to be called a “dork.”

So when I say I’m a dork and have a lot of little dorky-quirks, I refer to a lot of different hobbies and interests – some nerdy, some geeky, all a bit socially maligned. Here are probably the dorkiest – and what I find so intriguing about each. We’ll start with one I’ve already mentioned:

Doctor Who

Why it’s dorky – Let’s look at the premise of the show Doctor Who, shall we? An alien from a planet of time travelers explores the history of Earth with various companions – both human and extra-terrestrial. He does battle with alien overlords, hostile invaders, would-be gods and the rest of the stereotypical sci-fi villains. Doctor Who ranks right up there with Star Trek and Star Wars among the holy trinity of science fiction franchises. It even has a cult following similar to the Trekkies and Jedi Knights – or whatever Star Wars freaks call themselves.

Why that’s okay – Doctor Who is one of those rare victories of substance over style. The show started with a threadbare budget. Case in point: the Doctor’s arch-enemies – an alien race known as the Daleks – were first crafted from upside-down garbage cans mounted on tricycles, armed with kitchen whisks and toilet plungers. Yet when England first saw the Daleks, they dived behind their couch cushions, too scared to watch, too captivated to leave. For the most part – and I’ll admit it’s sometimes hit-and-miss – Doctor Who represents the kind of storytelling I’ve always respected: emotional, engaging, witty, character-driven… not to mention funny (which is always a plus).

Batman

Why it’s dorky – Seriously, a comic book. You know who reads comic books? That guy from the Simpsons. Oh, and President Obama, who’s allegedly a Superman fan. But we won’t hold that against him – his suits are too nice.

Why that’s okay – At its heart, a good Batman story is a good detective story, a psychological thriller. When Batman features in a story, he does more than kick out teeth – although he does plenty of that, too. A Batman story focuses on the psychology of his enemies. The Joker’s mania, Two-Face’s sense of justice, the Scarecrow’s obsession with fear – each represents a primal human emotion, and thus affects the reader personally. The easy example is Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight – a deeply troubling examination of man’s evil nature against a backdrop that just so happens to contain superheroes. I could go on about my favorite Batman stories, but then I’d be fawning a bit, I think.

Poetry

Why it’s dorky – Ever seen a poet? They’re pretty freaky-looking: wild, unkempt hair (if they have any), bulbous noses, red from years of acne, droopy eyes – like they’re tired of comparing eggs to starlight, or whatever. As for young poets… well, there’s a character from Stephen King’s The Stand (and if that’s not a dork reference, I don’t know what is) who constantly writes love poetry to some red-headed girl (I swear it’s that chick from The Breakfast Club) who’s… well, just not that into him. So, yeah, poets are nerds that never get the social redemption of having an important job – or a girlfriend.

(By the way, I have to say that I just got about halfway through an episode of Doctor Who that I’m told is one of the best ever, only to have the stupid library disc crap out on me. I’m ticked!)

Why that’s okay – I think I’ve gone over this subject to some extent before, but I’ll hit on why I think poetry’s a big deal here in a few bullet points:

1 - Poetry, like all art, both shapes and defines generations (re: T.S. Eliot’s “The Wasteland” or Alan Ginsberg’s “Howl”).
2 - Poetry evokes powerful emotion – including love. People wouldn’t write love poetry if it didn’t work sometimes.
3 - Poetry challenges the system, encourages thought – and even if it doesn’t change the world, that’s a victory on some level. Look to “Howl” again for an example, or the poetry of Wilfred Owen, Langston Hughes… countless others.
4 - Poetry entertains. Not everyone has a thing for it, but a lot of people enjoy a good Shel Silverstein verse every now and again.
5 - Poetry adds an extra fifty pages of material to The Lord of the Rings that nobody actually reads.

Okay, other than that last one, they’re all valid points.

Silent/Black and White Films

Why it’s dorky – Ever been to a party, only to have the host pull out some Bing Crosby for everyone to dance to? Same with old black-and-white pictures. Sure, they were cutting-edge at the time they came out, but now they’re too old-fashioned. Anyone who likes them must be a square, right?

Why it’s okay – Yeah, they’re probably square-ish. Still, most silent films age remarkably well. I’ll tell you this: Buster Keaton’s The Cameraman is definitely funnier than anything I’ve ever seen with Will Farrell. It’s difficult to tell a story without dialogue, but not impossible. When you watch a silent film CORRECTLY – with the appropriate organ music backing it up – you learn to appreciate the importance of body language in human communication. Besides, some of the best of these old films – like Charlie Chaplin’s Modern Times – still do an able job of pointing out flaws in our current society. We haven’t changed THAT much.

Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog

Why it’s dorky – First strike: it’s another superhero story. Technically, yes, it’s the story of the villain, but it’s still all… comic-y. Second strike: it’s in the form of a video blog – the “morning glory” of YouTube. Third strike: it’s by Joss Whedon, the father of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Firefly, two bottomless sources of nerd-fodder. And fourth strike (I was never very good at baseball): it’s a musical. *shudder*

Why that’s okay – Dr. Horrible turns the superhero genre on its ear just a bit by asking the viewer to sympathize with the villain. And you do: Dr. Horrible is a shy, nervous young man, yet a bit charming in that way shy young men are in movies. Meanwhile, his antagonist, Captain Hammer is self-righteous, narcissistic, condescending, and a bit of an idiot. Dr. Horrible’s goals are a bit misguided, yet we understand his motivation. He wants to change the world for the better. Captain Hammer (and mind you – he’s the hero) saves the day mainly for the prestige it brings him. And then the two fight over – what else? – a girl. By the end, you’re cheering for the super villain – you want Dr. Horrible to win. Yet, at the same time, he IS evil, and goes to horrible (can’t believe I just did that) lengths to achieve his ends. When you cut away the drama, you see Dr. Horrible is nothing more than a thief, a murderer… an extremist. What the villain does is wrong – there’s no way around it – but you start to see through his eyes, start to understand WHY he does what he does. A little compassion for those deemed to be “the enemy” could do the world a lot of good these days.

The Powerpuff Girls

Why it’s dorky – Again, superheroes. Drawn in a style heavily influenced by anime. About three little girls. Who fight a monkey super-genius.

And I’m twenty-four years old.

Why that’s okay – As a freshman in college, I wrote a paper arguing the social and cultural relevance of contemporary cartoons like The Powerpuff Girls. I’m going to come clean here and say I was completely full of crap. It’s a cartoon – there’s not really some agenda behind the series that’ll improve the human race. It’s not really art – although I will say it pushes the boundaries a bit when it comes to what you can and can’t do in a “kid’s show.” It’s just fun, and, really, what’s wrong with a little fun now and then?

Now, we’re on to the biggest question of all:

WHY SHOULD YOU CARE ABOUT ANY OF THIS?

And the answer: you shouldn’t.

I think I’ve mentioned this before, but a person isn’t defined by their tastes and interests. My interest in Doctor Who doesn’t make me a drooling, acne-ridden fan-boy (although the acne and drooling certainly don’t help that image). You may never understand why I like comic books or literature more than sports and dancing. By the same token, I’ll never understand why you like Better Off Dead so much, or Leona Lewis’s “Bleeding Love,” or… I dunno, football. But we can still be friends, right?

No, didn’t think so. Come back after you can admit that Better Off Dead is a stupid, stupid movie. Then we can get to making those boondoggle key chains.

P.S.: Happy Birthday, Dad!

Words and Prayers

This is my testimony: of art, of music, of God.

Here’s a young man – newly heart-broken (not hard to do with him). He’s watching the television with his friends, mainly for the escape. He doesn’t want to think about her anymore. He even wishes he’d never spoken to her in the first place. Mainly, though, he just doesn’t want to think – not about her, the wasted months. Not about anything. Just sit back, watch the television (it’s Doctor Who, of all things). Then he hears a single line of dialogue: “Some things are worth getting your heart broken.” And he remembers it all – holding hands in the dark, warm smiles against winter winds, thrilling eyes. He knows they’re just memories – she is just a memory. But, for that minute, the regret is a memory, too.

Another young man: thoughtful, contemplative… sometimes to a fault. He questions – all people do. Here, we see him questioning everything he’s been taught from his childhood on. God, Christ, all of it – completely uncertain. He doesn’t have the courage to pray, to see if it all really is imagined, or if it all is real. He remembers, then, a line of a song he learned in school – a poem by Robert Frost, set to music: “So, when at times the mob is swayed/To carry praise or blame too far/We may take something like a star/To stay our minds on, and be stayed.” So he accepts it: not the sure stone of gospel truth, but a small step, at least, on the stairway to the high ground. The safe ground.

Here’s a new man, just graduated from high school. He’s giddy with success, but at the back of his brain, he feels a small buzz – a sense of unease, as though everything he’d been working on for eighteen years meant nothing. Just then, a new song comes on the radio – John Meyer, who says, “I just found out there’s no such thing as the real world. Just a lie you’ve got to rise above.” Of course, this young man is furious at the though – it can’t be that way. There’s got to be something to all this learning. He doesn’t realize, until years later, that the singer had a point. The learning is not the destination – but it is a step on the journey, a means of making the road lighter, of drawing lessons from the ground. He no longer lives for schooling – he just lives, and his education lives for him.

A boy – sixteen years old, maybe – reads his scriptures every day, like a good little Mormon boy should. One day, he gets in an arm-wrestling competition and loses. Repeatedly. Against everyone. Even the girls. He laughs it off, of course – that’s what he does. And he’d probably be okay, but still… He’s weak. And he can’t help but get a little down on himself. So, that night, as he reads, he comes across a verse in the Book of Mormon. It’s in Alma, Chapter 26, verse 12, if you want to read along: “I know that I am nothing. As to my strength, I am weak. Therefore, I will not boast of myself, but I will boast of my God, for in his strength, I can do all things.” And he realizes that he doesn’t have to be the strongest. If he believes in God, trusts Him, he can be of service to his fellowman whether he can bench press his own body weight or not. God will put him to use and strengthen him, when needed.

Whatever an artist writes while under the influence of the muse – a single word, a line or phrase, a melody – is a message in a bottle, tossed out to a wild sea of chance. There’s no guarantee anyone ever finds that message. Not everyone who reads the message will understand it. But, every now and again, one person will find the one thing he or she needs to hear, needs to read, needs to know in that moment to smile – even if only for a second.

And so we continue to write, to paint, to weave, to sculpt, to sing. We pray for God to guide our words to those who need them. We pray He continues to guide us to those words we need. And He continues to steer the seekers – not always in the direction they think is best – but in the direction they need.