I'm what some would call opinionated. Okay. Fine. I'm incredibly opinionated and have one for just about everything. I know this is unusual, so I don't mind that most people don't have an opinion about every little thing. Or if they have an opinion, they don't necessarily feel the need to share it with everyone.
Here's my rant, though: People who only have opinions about the most pointless and trivial things. Like Facebook, Twitter or whether Seinfeld is a good TV show. I have an account with Twitter and enjoy reading the updates of others immensely. What burns my biscuits is when people who never give a second thought* to genocide in Darfur or health care reform have an opinion about how pointless Twitter is. Maybe Twitter isn't stopping wars or ending world hunger, but what's the harm? If you're going to use your time and brain power to argue about something, why not leave Twitter alone and stand up for something that matters?
*I don't mean they just think genocide is bad or that everyone should have health care, I mean they've actually read about it or have an informed opinion about what should be done to solve these, or any, crises.
"If all goes to plan, the Polaroid factory in Enschede, Amsterdam, will soon be making film again thanks to its new owner, an eccentric Austrian artist and businessman named Florian Kaps."
"'The project is more than a business plan; it's a fight against the idea that everything has to die when it doesn't create turnover,' said Mr Kaps."
I love it! I love that Kaps realizes not everything is about money--especially art. Just because it's not the newest technology doesn't mean it's irrelevant or useless. Just look at the resurgence of vinyl records.
I love words. I love how you can write a sentence, then re-write it over and over again, until you've found the perfect combination of words to convey your meaning most accurately. I'll probably come back to the previous sentence later and re-write it before I publish this. I love doing that. But most people seem to have given up on speaking with eloquence and choose instead to speak quickly. They look for the fastest way to get their point across, even when there's a better way--a more vivid way.
My love of the written word extends to an appreciation for a good speech. A speech that not only explains a point, but does so in manner that goes above and beyond the normal spoken word. I always thought that political speeches had to be dry and delivered as though the speaker was reading a recipe. I thought speeches like those of President Bartlet were only found in the writing of Aaron Sorkin. But as I listened to President Barack Obama's inauguration speech, I was reminded of my love of words and reminded that inspirational political speeches are not just a Hollywood creation or a thing of the past. Whether you're a fan of Obama or not, you have to admit he has a way with words. His "soaring oratory" could inspire Dr. House to volunteer at an orphanage. I can't wait to hear his speeches during the next four (possibly eight) years.* I realize President Obama is not the first president to deliver a speech with panache, but he's the first that my generation remembers with clarity.
But here's where I begin to feel like a slacker, even though I make an effort to choose my words well. The speechwriter (and Obama's head speechwriter throughout the campaign and on to the White House) is Jon Favreau. And Favreau is 27 years old. According to this article in The Guardian, Favreau began his career as a speechwriter for John Kerry's 2004 presidential campaign after graduating from College of the Holy Cross as valedvictorian.
I have two years to become a speechwriter or at least a published author. If I can't be a drool-worthy speechwriter, at least I can aim to be a twentysomething author of outstanding novels. I should probably start right now.
*This is not a snarky way of making fun of President Bush's lack of remarkable oratory skills. I'm just looking forward to seeing Obama put his above-average public speaking skills to use.
"It produces 2-by-3 inch photos by selectively heating spots on specially treated paper. It has nothing to do with the old chemical Polaroid process, but the prints convey some of the same Pop Art charm: They're grainy and the colors are slightly off, with faces tending toward a deathly blue-green."
When Polaroid announced they are stopping production of the Polaroid instant film cameras, people began hoarding they're film and buying it up whenever and wherever they could. And the hipsters rejoiced! (at the announcement of the new camera).
When I was a kid my brother used to upset me by telling me I was adopted. I’m not sure why this made me cry, but it did. The only retort I could come up with was something to the effect of “Yeah, well, so are you!” Brilliant. But adoption has always lingered in the back of my mind. I love stories and movies or books about children who had no families, but were plucked from the orphanage or foster care system to live with a new family. I love the idea that children who thought no one wanted them are taken in by people who love them unconditionally. Children without love are suddenly surrounded by it.
Today I found a link on a blog to one of the most heartbreaking stories I’ve ever read. The story is from the St. Petersburg Times and tells the story of Danielle Crockett, a feral child. When I hear the words “feral child” I usually imagine a boy who is raised by wolves or the cartoon character Tarzan—but I never imagine a seven-year-old girl who lives in a city, in a house surrounded by neighbors and with three adults in the same house.
The story is told in three parts, beginning with the discovery of Danielle in a house crawling with roaches and with walls stained yellow by cigarette smoke. Police officers find the girl in a room wearing nothing but an overflowing diaper, lying on a torn mattress in a room filled with diapers. The mother yells at the officer, not understanding why Danielle is being taken away. The second part of the story explains how Danielle is adopted by the Lierow family. After living in a group home for more than a year, she is adopted by a family who has a nine-year-old boy—a family who felt complete, save for their desire to adopt a daughter. The third part of the story is an interview with Danielle’s biological mother. She attempts to explain how she could possibly allow such horrible things to happen to her own daughter. She seems clueless to the magnitude of her selfishness. How can a mother neglect her child to the point that the girl is unable to talk? Feed herself? Make eye contact? Walk in a straight line?
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As I read this story, I was overwhelmed with thoughts and questions. I was reminded of the man in Austria who had kept his daughter in a dungeon for 20 years and fathered children with her—all while his wife and other children lived on the other side of the soundproof walls.
Absolute power corrupts absolutely. I don’t know who said that originally, but we usually picture people like Adolf Hitler or Josef Stalin when it’s said. But what about people who have absolute power over just one small area of the world? Like their home or their office or the life of their child? It’s unthinkable to me that such a person exists that they would give birth to a beautiful little girl and then neglects her to the point that she is unable to function. It’s unthinkable to me that someone like the man in Austria can deceive family and friends for 20 years and seem perfectly normal—until the devil within is revealed. But each of these persons exerted absolute power over their victim. They had the choice to love and nurture or neglect and torture. They chose the latter.
Sufjan Stevens has a song on his Illinois album about the serial killer John Wayne Gacy, Jr. Gacy would lure and kidnap teenage boys and do unspeakable things to them before killing them and burying them under his house. The song gives some minor details about the story and the melody is haunting (I admit—I often skip over the song when I’m riding in the car alone at night). What is more haunting is the line Stevens repeats in the chorus: And in my best behavior, I am really just like him. Look beneath the floorboards, for the secrets I have hid.
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Each one of us has the capacity to do evil things. We’re all sinful and fallen and selfish. We have the capacity to exert absolute power over someone else or something else and we do this as an attempt to fulfill our selfish desires. And at the same time, each one of us is an orphan or a child in the foster care system—waiting to be saved. A few months ago Steven Curtis Chapman’s adopted daughter was accidentally hit and killed by an SUV being driven by their son. He’s being interviewed on Larry King Live tonight and they just published an article he wrote about his daughter’s adoption. One paragraph in particular reminded me of the story of Danielle and the way her story had affected me:
“…what I had not yet grasped was that adoption is a physical picture of what Jesus has done for me. I did nothing to deserve God's love; in fact, I was living as an orphan, without hope. Yet God chose to pursue a relationship with me, and through the death of his son Jesus, I was adopted into God's family.”
Each one of us is an orphan and at the same time, each one of us is capable of the evil we turn our eyes from when it comes on the local news. Reading the story of Danielle Crockett not only deepened my desire to adopt the lost children in the world—children who just need a home and a family—but reminded me of the fallen world we live in and the world we’ve created.
The whole world seems to be in a bad mood. And I can't really blame them. As excited as I am to see January 20, 2009 come, this election season seems to be dragging on endlessly as everyone waits to see which Democrat will finally win the nomination and as we try to figure out if McCain will just be another Bush. Add that to a falling economy, rising gas prices and rising food prices and it's the perfect recipe for a bad mood.
And that's just in the U.S. The rising cost of food is crippling other countries and a cyclone in Myanmar just killed 22,000+ people. The war in Iraq keeps dragging on and the situations in Zimbabwe and Sudan don't seem to be improving. What a world.
Joy has always been a concept that I had a hard time with. I remember in high school, my church's pastor (not the same church I attend now) was dealing with a rebellious daughter. His other daughter had always been involved with the youth group at our church (she's a few years older) and acted as a sort of mentor to the girls. And amidst these sad circumstances she was always smiling and full of joy. My friend and I asked her how she always seemed happy and her answer was quite simple: She chose joy. So simple to say but excruciatingly hard to do. I've heard it said that happiness is based on circumstances and joy is based on attitude. This is when I wish God loved lists as much as I do. Then he could have given me a five-step process to being joyful:
1. Eat chocolate 2. Pray the exact prayer found in 2 Hesitations 3:14 3. Take two ibuprofen 4. Drink a margarita 5. Pray the prayer again and voila! Joy!
But our God is not a God of lists or five-step processes or 40 days to a new you. He's a God that wants us to pray and delight in Him. I just started reading Desiring God last night for the first time (I know, I know--it's a classic. But I'm slow on the non-fiction reading). I had heard the concept of Christian hedonism before and I had heard John Piper being quoted as saying "God is most glorified when we are most satisfied in Him." But in these trying times (both in my own life and in the world around me), it rang more true than ever before.
A few weeks ago I was reading a blog and the author had a link to some of her music she'd recorded. The first song she linked to was "Weight of Joy." I put this song on repeat, downloaded it and then played in on repeat for two weeks. It's such a simple song but has such a profound message. It basically says that sometime during life she (I) was juggling and struggling with everything, and she dropped God's joy in order to "make room" for other things. "Relieved of its weight I trudged forever on, but the absence of joy had transferred to a burden on my heart." She continues on until she ends her journey on her face. God finds her "hollow and alone" and He gets down on His knees and hands her joy.
He gets down on His holy knees and handed her joy.
I'm not saying I'm depressed and on the verge of a breakdown. I'm nowhere near that. But reading the news and hearing about the struggles in the lives of others and in my own life--it can be burdensome and it's easy to drop God's joy. So many questions about the future and what this means or what that means or trying to ignore loneliness or trying to learn about a God who can seem so distant--it can all be overwhelming. But through it all, He's right there, whispering softly in my ear "My child you dropped this back there" and He hands me joy.
Psalm 37:4-6 Delight yourself in the LORD and he will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the LORD; trust in him and he will do this: He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn, the justice of your cause like the noonday sun.
I have several reasons why I dislike Wal-Mart. Here are a few:
1. It's too jam-packed full of merchandise. It's in the middle of aisles and covers ever inch possible of the ridiculously large stores. 2. The employees often (I'm sure not always) have no clue where merchandise is located (perhaps because there is so much merchandise). 3. The customers in Wal-Mart seem bent on being completely rude. They know they're in your way, in the middle of the aisle and that you need to get by. But they don't move. This isn't Wal-Mart's fault, it's just annoying. 4. They shut down smaller stores and become a monopoly. 5. Find more reasons at Wal-Mart Watch.
Those are just a few of the things I don't like. Add the following news to that list:
Wal-Mart Prevails in Case to Recover Health Costs Deborah Shank stocked the shelves in a Wal-Mart until she was in a car accident with a tractor trailer that left her with brain damage and unable to walk. Her family sued the tractor trailer company and won $700,000. After paying all their legal fees, they had roughly $410,000 left over to pay for her medical expenses to take care of her for the rest of her life.
That's when Wal-Mart came in and decided to sue Shank and recover the $470,000 that her health insurance paid for medical expenses after the accident.
Okay, so it's legal. Big deal. Wal-Mart is the largest non-government employer in the U.S. I think, I think, they can live without that $470,000 that helped pay for a woman's medical expenses after a horrible traffic accident that left her without the ability to walk.
The good news is that after bloggers across the world, news shows and more berated Wal-Mart for their unfeeling and greedy lawsuit, they finally backed off. They won the case and all the appeals (although the Supreme Court declined to see the case), so they could have gotten away with it. But given the fact that Wal-Mart already has more than their fair share of PR problems, they decided to grow a friggin' conscience and not take the money. Or at least do what anyone with half a semester of Public Relations 101 could have told them would be the smart thing to do.
The NCAA has rules about showing clips or highlights from games until all the games from that day are finished. Or something like that. So a local news station in North Carolina improvised...using dolls and action figures. This is why I love living in North Carolina. Watch some highlights of the Duke and Belmont game:
I won't even try to delve into the topic of atheism. At least not now. But I just read this great article on evangelical atheists and how their beliefs and views mirror the same religious views they rail against. It's interesting because, from what I can tell, the author is not a Christian and is quite possibly an atheist as well.
Some highlights:
"Zealous atheism renews some of the worst features of Christianity and Islam. Just as much as these religions, it is a project of universal conversion. Evangelical atheists never doubt that human life can be transformed if everyone accepts their view of things, and they are certain that one way of living - their own, suitably embellished - is right for everybody."
"The problem with the secular narrative is not that it assumes progress is inevitable... It is the belief that the sort of advance that has been achieved in science can be reproduced in ethics and politics. In fact, while scientific knowledge increases cumulatively, nothing of the kind happens in society. Slavery was abolished in much of the world during the 19th century, but it returned on a vast scale in nazism and communism, and still exists today...Knowledge grows, but human beings remain much the same."
I'm what some would call opinionated. Okay. Fine. I'm incredibly opinionated and have one for just about everything. I know this is unusual, so I don't mind that most people don't have an opinion about every little thing. Or if they have an opinion, they don't necessarily feel the need to share it with everyone.
