Reality Bites

This is my cousin, Erin. Everyone say "hi" to Erin. As you can see to the right, she is a new addition to the blogger realm. A little grasshopper in the game, if you visit her site, please keep a mentoring spirit of encouragement and delight. She's 19 and attends EIU while studying art (which she kicks butt at). This may too imply that she is creative, artsy, and "depressive"...but I don't really want to label her.

As for biting reality...I am currently feeling torn about reality television. I just spent an hour of my evening journaling and simultaneously watching "Candid Camera" which could possibly be one of the first reality shows, seemingly innocent in its genre, but providing laughs at the expense of other people's self worth and dignity.

Here is my dilemma of sorts - Being a social service nit wit, I enjoy watching the twisted interactions offered in reality TV; however, they are each the same vicious, narcissistic freaks of nature who want nothing more than money, fame, and success. They will go to any great lengths of public humiliation, sexual appointments, and dangerous dares for a few seconds of sick attention. Why on earth should I enjoy watching these people?

When I thought I have seen it all, they come up with something else. Have any of you seen advertisements for "Superstar?" These horrible singers think they are in the finals to be labeled as terrific talent...but they are in midst of a countdown to find out that they are the absolute worst musicians in the United States. I'll be honest, my initial reaction was humored horror, but how awful for these young people.

I hope that we are approaching the extinction of this form of social suicide. Because their reality bites.

Trees Dressed in Cicada Sex

It is that glorious time of year. Seventeen and 13 year cicadas have crept to the surface of the earth and now sing forth their rituals to begin another mating season.

Sources say that this is the largest group of flying, chirping, howling bugs to reproduce at one given time. Trillions of the sex-crazed insects gather around us in trees to have what we could call the time of their lives.

Let's think about that for just a second. They have lived almost as long as the rest of us, but underground, only in preparation for a couple of weeks of sex to then die and rot into the soil. So herein lies my question: Do they at least enjoy it? Do the poor bugs act merely on instinct or will they have the opportunity to at least have pleasurable intercourse? Are there pimp cicadas or player cicadas? Do they get to choose their mate by sound, looks, or size?

My friends I call you to pity the young pups. Don't be frustrated when their chatter increasingly annoys you. Instead cheer them on in their duties; for they have come a long way and the least we can do is support them in their efforts.

Altered or Taylored

You've met them before. They're everywhere. Every church has one, every grocery clerk deals with one, every garbage man cringes at one. (Wouldn't you wonder what is in their trash?) I'm talking about that family...you know, the one that makes you wonder if the lights are on and nobody's home...the one that's a fry short of a happy meal. Where do they come from? More importantly, where are they going?

As rare as you would like to presume; disoriented, demented, and disturbed people are all around you.

Open their front door and there is a seven foot, hand-carved statue of Friar Tuck to greet you with dark, beady eyes. Glance down their hallway and eccentricity flows from dozens of self-portraits that line the walls. And now I shutter at the cliche "Jesus is watching you" as I envision a shadow mold of the Christ propped soundly above the Victorian adorned fireplace.

I just happen to have the opportunity to housesit for such a family through June and part of July. Number one encouragement: they won't be there. Number two encouragement: hopefully the psychotic ex won't be there. Number three encouragement: the dog can't talk.

So I ask each of you now to embrace your normalcy. Proudly proclaim that as abnormal as you may often feel...you are as sensible as they come! (And if you aren't, then this blog is for you too.)

Bejeweled

Today is Thursday. Respectively known as "Bejeweled Day" to those of us who spent way too much time together at MCC this semester. So, although 1100 miles separates me from my comrades; know this, I shall remain faithful and continue to rack up my score in this blessed game.

Join me, please.

Keyed In

It has been at least six painstaking years since we have had the Nardoni piano tuned. Yesterday I sat down on our squeaky wooden bench with much anticipation of striking the keys in all their glory. My excitement was thwarted as each note caused my skin to crawl with disgust. My dad had the nerve to ask me if I was just "a little rusty."

After several minutes of noise I decided to call our local tuner and make something of the problem at hand. Twenty four hours and 50 dollars later I can enjoy my piano.

Bill's questions as he tuned away created curiosity in my soul. Just how old is our beautiful upright? He was quite impressed with its restoration (thanks to the parentals for investing) and I decided to do a little investigatory work.

Tim, you may be interested to know that our dear Ellington was built in 1912. It's as old as my rickity iron bed. Dad thanked me for paying this guy to come today, but he honestly couldn't tell a difference. Shocker, I know.

Does a piano have the capability of conducting electricity? If I play it during a thunderstorm, do I really increase my chances of being hit by lightning?

Dazed and Confused

I would like to say that my time in Illinois has been more than fruitful. And in many ways it has been. I was able to see my whole fam, surprise Lucas, go camping with Nikki, and graduate. I would also like to say that I have grown four inches

I could be pathetically wrong and illogical. I could be supressing the ugliness of the "real" world. I could be setting myself up for disaster as I aim and shoot for a ministry that I love yet feel discouraged from.

Illinois has been my home for 23 years. It has served as a refuge, a beacon, and a comfort zone. However, it currently serves me with heartache, unhappiness, and discomfort. "This too shall pass," I hear. "Go for your dreams." "Take risks." "Go where God leads you." (Kinda reminds me of the book I was going to write after Mom died..."What not to say when someone dies.")

What if God is leading me to a low-paying ministry where I serve in a manner uncommon to most people? What if my idea of the church is washed up in a generation of boomers who don't get it? I'm tired from being questioned and doubted as I dream up an ideal ministry that may not be so popular to the masses. I have officially graduated from college and that accomplishment means more to me than a piece of paper or status. It is rooted deeply in whom I have become and who I am becoming.

All I ask for is a little consideration. A little understanding. A little time. Is that so difficult?

When All is Said and Done

This is my last night in Manchester.

I've said all of my goodbyes even though I didn't think it could be done. Jeanne and I are pulling out at 4:30 a.m. and making our way to Delta, OH where she will meet the elders of Delta Church of Christ. Please pray that her personal interview goes well and that we make it there safely.

I'm sure that we'll have all sorts of things to blog about when we get home.

Down to the Nitty Gritty

One thing after another. I have packed up my entire room, my office, and my new life. Granted, it has not been all that bad. The transition is definitely more bitter than sweet, but I do not doubt that I will be back here one day whether to visit or stay long term.

If you all could keep me in your prayers, I have an interview today at Lighthouse School in Mass. They do not have an open position right now, but they would like me to see the place, meet the students, and decide if it is someplace that I would be interested in.

There is a lot swirling through my head right now, but I am excited for the adventure.

"Be glad for what God is planning for you." Romans 12:12a NLT