Stu's Stews

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2009-04-11T12:37:00.001-07:00

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The Call

2009-04-11T07:46:00.000-07:00

Well, I don't know how all this is going to come out, but what the hey, I'll just go ahead and do it.

So, here's the deal. I'll be graduating in December. I'm pretty stoked about that. I need to finish my thesis and a few more hours of classes, but other than that, I'll be good to go. And to be honest, I'm still on the fence about the ole Ph.D. I mean, yeah, it'd be nice to be called "Dr. Tully," and hang out in classes and seminars for another 3 years or so. But to be honest, I'm about 50/50 about even starting such an attempt. I know I like school and have a natural aptitude for it, but there's something more in play.

While searching for ideas to fill up the ominous sounding "Lost Semester," (so named because while I graduate in December, Ph. D programs don't start until the fall, hence a "lost" semester in which I will not be in class) an idea began in ferment in my mind. Initially, I was looking at either moving to Texas in order to establish residency for UT (long story) or going to D.C. to start work as a corporate archivist (which is pretty well paying and requires experience as both historian and librarian, each of which I have in spades). However, as time went on, another possibility thrust itself into the forefront of my mind.

At this time, I'm going to go into a little bit about my past and why this is a little shameful to be me. If you aren't interested in hearing about this, go ahead and skip the next two paragraphs. Don't worry, I won't judge you.

Okay here's the deal, I feel like I've been Jonah for the past 9 years or so. Not the belly of the whale part, but the fleeing from Nineveh bit. Whenever I was about 15/16 I got called to do foreign missions in some capacity. Specifically Youth ministry. And since that time, I've been trying to run away from it. My excuses are multi-fold: That it was just a one night reaction, that it wasn't real in the first place, I'm more suited and gifted in other areas, my past prevents me from such an endeavour, it wasn't actually God in the first place, there's no money in it, what would people think of me, etc etc ad nausem.

Because of my own uncertainites, I've put this off for too long. Denied it. Tried covering it up with other activities and accomplishments. And it's not like God hasn't blessed me in my lack of obedence. Far from it. I consider myself the luckiest man on the planet to be so liberally blessed the way I am. But there's something I want above all other things (Well, two things to be exact) and I know in order to get them, I'll have to submit myself to this. Will it be easy? Probably not. Will it worth it? Most certainly.

Anyway, I've always had an interest in going to New Zealand for an extended period to live/work/serve. Something about that country has grabbed me like no other place has. It looks not only idyllic in its scenery, but the people as well. The Maori. The climate. All sorts of things which reaffirm its worth. It seems like the place where nature and people got it right.

Long story short, I decided that going to New Zealand for a semester at the very least would be the best course of action for me. I contacted a number of churches, and got some very nice responses. In short, if all goes to plan, I will be working at a church in Wellington as a, well not exact sure what. It's above an intern, but below staff. It's not quite a mission trip, since the people of New Zealand have long heard of Jesus and Christianity; but it isn't just an extended vacation. My primary reason to go to New Zealand is to serve the people in whatever capacity God allows. It's just ironic the one church that is the most responsive to me is in need for someone to head up their youth ministry. God defintely has a sense of humor.

It's almost like I'm backing into what God has wanted me to do for years since I can't face it head on. And it's probably my reluctance and distaste for certain aspects which makes me more qualified to do it. I do not seek this type of life, but it has found me irregardless. I know I have been meant to do this for a long while now, I'm just coming to grips with the reality of the situation.

So to recap. Stu in Wellington, NZ. From January 2010-to who knows?

Some Musings on Suckiness

2009-02-27T10:01:00.000-08:00

So this past week or so has been pretty trying down here in Tullyville. Aside from the continual thesis expansion and research, which I'm pretty used to if I'm completely honest, there has been one major issue dominating my waking and sleeping hours. Without getting into too much detail, considering the sensitivities of the situation (if you really want to know what's going on, just ask me in real life. I'm not comfortable going the whole nine yards in blog form.), I'll just say it's a distance issue coupled with extenuating circumstances beyond anyone's control. I really hope the circumstance changes, but it's looking grim. I really was looking forward to no funerals this year.

But it all got me thinking, do people actually realize the amount of cruelity they can place on another? Part of me hopes that it's inadvertent. But then again, I can't imagine anyone being that heartless. Sure, we can't all go around wearing our heart on our sleeve, and telling everyone our drama, but there has to be a level of grace extended. Times get tough, things are changing non-stop. Is it too much to ask another human to stay stable, even if they don't mean it, just so we have something to hang on to? Our world is crashing down and everything is in flux; but when we go to the people we depend upon, the ones who swore they'd be there for us, the ones we were there for whenever they couldn't handle life, we don't get the same kindness extended to us. They claim they're the same individual, and that nothing has changed, but it has. They're being distant and engaging in jerkwad behavior. The ones that you called your best friend, the ones who you thought there was a future with, they're now the ones who are doing things you wouldn't do to someone you hated. And what's even worse is that they're making you feel like the guilty party. Like you did something wrong by, oh I don't know, reeling with the loss that will rock your world forever.

But enough about that. For the record, I'm not the one going through the situation, but I am the emotional rock for someone who is. And let me tell you, it's way harder than I expected. To see someone you care about hurt so deeply, and know there's not a dang thing you can do about it. And even worse, as hard as you try to be there for them, but geography still separates you. I don't mind taking the 2 am phone calls, or giving the reassurances that things will eventually change; but you always feel like you're not giving it all.

The one thing I've certainly learned is how necessary it is to take of yourself as you act as the stability for another. It can be draining and all consuming, and it's pretty easy to neglect yourself. So as hollow as it seems right now, not to mention the passing guilt of having at such a time, I've been doing my best to ensure I stay sane. Yes, I've been revising the same 4-page thesis proposal for the past week or more, and no, I'm still not happy with it. But hey, it's something I like to do. If it wasn't for that, I'd probably be fretting about the situation.

But man, it still sucks.

What I Believe

2009-02-20T12:56:00.001-08:00

What the hey, I'll throw in a second post for the price of one. So I wrote this a while ago, probably during the summer, after I was disgusted by a lot of the brow-beating of various differences in Christianity. I mean, really minor theological disputes which have no bearing on our actual lives and faith. Furthermore, it sickened me to see people trying to claim supernatural backing for their private point of view. Anyway, I decided for once and for all to make a synthesis of what all I believe. It's not to cast a dim shadow on anyone who believes otherwise. Rather, it was an exercise I needed to do. I'm not claiming this is the nature of God, or the way things are, this is simply what I believe in my heart.

What do I believe?

- I believe in God, the creator of all. While his methods are unknown, I believe he used them deliberately.
- I believe in an ancient earth, where God took his time to perfect his creation.
- I believe in Jesus, an aspect of God who came to earth die for our sins. I believe Jesus was human, as well as divine.
- I believe Jesus did not know the outcome of his life, nor all the individual thoughts of those around him. (For instance, I personally like Jesus to be dumb-founded by the Roman Centurion's faith. And that he took a risk by coming to earth to die for our sins. It wasn't all set in stone)
- I believe in the Holy Spirit, an element of God that is it utterly consumed with accomplishing God’s will.
- I believe God’s ultimate desire will be done, human involvement cannot impede it.
- I believe in the trinity, God in three forms. I believe give praise to one element of the trinity gives praise to all.
- I believe Jesus fulfilled all the messianic prophecy, even the seemingly contradictory stuff.
- I believe the Bible was divinely inspired, but the product of human endeavor. Each author left a part of their personality in their work.
- I believe the Bible is easily the most reputable of ancient text, and its integrity is proved by the sheer amount of manuscripts.
- I believe the Bible does not have to be taken literally. It contains allegory, allusions, and prophecy. As such, the full depth of its meaning cannot be taken by face value alone.
- I believe there is no hierarchy of Christians; differences in doctrine do not denote further discord. We should focus on the similar rather than the differences.
- I believe personal revelation will never contradict scripture. Furthermore, all personal revelations should be evaluated severally before implementation.
- I believe God is not limited by scripture; he can do thinks beyond what is already laid out. However, it will never be totally contrary
- I believe Satan exists. However, he is a defeated spirit. His power has been severally weakened and does not pose a major threat to believers when they resist. I believe death was the true enemy.
- I believe human weakness, failures, and temptation are the result of human nature, not supernatural malevolence.
- I believe Christians have a responsibility to correct societal ills; to be Christ’s hands and feet in his tangible absence.
- I believe Biblical speaking in tongues refers to the expansion of Christ’s gospel to the nations. That being said, speaking in tongues is not a requirement for belief, or a sign of further submission. Christianity is not segmented.
- I believe humans can never fully understand God’s nature, but that is no reason why it shouldn’t be sought. Seeking and learning about God is a lifetime adventure.
- I believe in free will. An individual must personally chose to accept God’s dominion over their life.
- I believe if a person truly means their conversion, there is no way circumstances can remove this salvation.
- I believe God has the ability to save whoever he wants, but chooses not to force the issue as he wants our love for him to be given willfully.
- I believe everyone will be judged for their actions, but Christ’s love will save those who believe.
- I believe salvation is deceptively simple. A true admission of Jesus’ truth will result in salvation.
- I believe in heaven, but it should not be our focus in light of the current work we have right now.
- I believe baptism is an outward expression of what God has already accomplished. I believe in both infant baptism and water baptism once a person realizes the extent of their belief.
- I do not believe conversion has to be an individual moment in time; it can also be a lengthy and mental process. I believe the Bible is intellectual; intellect and spirituality are not mutually exclusive terms.
- I believe the rapture can occur at any time, and it has been that way since Jesus’ departure. While we may be living in the end times due to the passage of time, it is not impending this very second.
- I believe communion should be open to all, since we are one under God. I believe communion is an opportunity to remember Christ’s sacrifice for us.
- I believe worship is a personal expression. However, communal worship allows for espier de corps otherwise not found in private devotion.
- I believe pastors are men, and aside from their choice in vocation, no different than any other believer. Furthermore, strong discretion must be used when first approaching any individual claiming supernatural leadership.
- I believe unnecessary claiming of spiritual rationale results in weakening both the speaker and the name of God, violating both the 3rd Commandment and Jesus’ command to ‘let your yes be yes and your no be no’.
- I believe as Christians, we are called out of the spiritual ghetto into being lights for the world. As such, Christian should never be an apologetic adjective for our efforts.
- I believe God calls us not to be perfect, but excellent, better than we otherwise might be without his aid.
- I believe all denominations cherry pick elements of scripture. No one truly treats the entire Bible with the same emphasis. Though all believe the Bible to be relevant and holy, none has the moral superiority as “true believers.”
- I believe in fellowship and brotherhood as the closest glimpses of heaven we will ever see on earth.
- I believe our past is behind us. Though it strongly influenced the person we are today, it has no bearing on our future endeavors.
- I believe homosexuality no worse than any other sin, or abortion for that matter.
- I believe sin is not just an action, but an attitude of placing ourselves before God. All actions flow through his mindset.
- I believe marriage is a deep commitment, the second deepest we make on earth. However, the two must be able to function as individuals. The commitment is stronger between two wholes, rather than any with deficiency.
- I believe children are neat, but not mandated. The choice not to have children is perfectly acceptable. Likewise, the choice to remain single is also acceptable.
-I believe even though some might disagree with elements of my beliefs, we are still Christians. “The little stupid differences are nothing next to the big stupid similarities.”

Can I Get an Encore

2009-02-20T12:37:00.000-08:00

So, it's been a long time since I last wrote something. And instead of telling you what all has gone on lately, I suppose I can just show you.

So yeah, thesis is without a doubt the number one, and pretty much only thing going on in my life right now (except for a certain person calling me "Hebibi" but that's another story for another time ;)) And since research, reading, and summarizing have taken over my entire life, I suppose the only thing I have to give is this, a rambling, rumbling, stumbling stream of consciousness dribble that is the mental backbone of my thesis. I share this only in a vain hope someone might actually read it and figure out what the heck I mean. Ready? Okay.

Run DMC has iconic status, and I mean that in the purest sense of the word. Elements of their on-stage persona have transcended the mere physical and have become emblematic of the era in hip hop. For instance, the all-black leather suits, the black fedoras, the two turn-tables and microphones, the minimalist style, etc. Furthermore, Run DMC set the standard for many of what rappers were “supposed to look like.” This is due to their exposure to the mainstream audience. They were not the first rappers by any stretch, however, they became first rappers to be seen outside of New York on a wide-scale.

In addition, because of Run DMC’s heightened exposure, their visual appearance became the major manner in which they could be emulated. While distinct, their style was fairly easily obtainable. They looked like ordinary individuals, and fairly free of flash. Run DMC exposure was what lead to the end of the “old school artists,” and the heavy disco feel of early rap records.

So why was Run-DMC so successful in crossing over to the mainstream? Of course, many elements have to be taken into account. But, a lot of credit is due to Russell Simmons. He influenced and directed the group, particularly keenly in the early years. Russell produced, made fashion decisions, portioned out rhymes, and got the group onto the radio. Russell Simmons saw the big picture, in the financial sense. As part of Simmons financial savvy, he made/suggest/threatened/whatever the group to make “My Adidas,” which had a lot of potential to be a ripe plum of an endorsement deal for the group. Run-DMC had national exposure, but was about to break into a larger realm with the new record. “Krush Groove,” Live Aid, the fact they already had two videos on MTV, all of which aided giving the group credibility.

The song exists on multiple levels. Of course, it shows the group being true to their roots, but in addition, it speaks directly to Adidas as to why the group, and the song for that matter, would be a great medium to sink their money into. For instance, it mentions Live Aid, the number of concerts the group puts on, their favorite colors, and the admiration of a homeboy who owns several pairs of shoes. It mentions the name Adidas nearly 22 times.

This little bit of entrepanuerialism aided both parties. Run-DMC got even more mainstream acceptance, while Adidas got precedence in the urban market. It was also a very long lasting deal, one that became iconic for both parties. But in addition, it also allowed the listeners of the music to buy into the product. Wearing Adidas shoes without laces became a manner to show solidarity with not just Run-DMC, but the hip hop community as a whole. It was no longer just music that was for sale, but a lifestyle to boot. This played right into Russell Simmon’s eventual emergence into Phat Farm and other endeavors, while staying away from the actual music scene (He supposedly admitted current music trends have long since passed him by). But, he’s promoting a lifestyle, one that he claims is moving away from youth counter-culture, and into the mainstream. Indeed, he claims Phat Farm is more up-scale. What kids who like rap would wear once they grew up, but refuse to adopt suits and ties (once again, his words, not mine). However, regardless of the aesthetic, he is using the principles which helped him achieve success with Run-DMC and Def Jam in the first place.

It is interesting Simmons’ personal definition of hip hop includes the phrase “mainstream culture.” However, judging by his current activities, it makes sense. His importance placed upon branding and maintaining product integrity is more akin to a Donald Trump than an opportunistic hype man. Once again, his retroactive justification of his past activities through current credo fits into traditional American economic activities.

Another defining of terms: traditional American economic values. Or aspirations, rather than values. Entrepanerialism, for one. The idea an individual, through sheer determination, skill, and luck, can carve out a better life for themselves. It also links to coming from authentic poverty or a legit bad situation, which makes their elevation all the more impressive. Though both Simmons’ came from a comfortable two parent working class existence, albeit quite black, it was nowhere near as desperate as other places. Indeed, Run-DMC rapped often of going to school and staying away from street activities. However, they always prefaced their rhymes by “knowing where the bad stuff went on.” Though they weren’t gangsters, they came to embody the persona of what the nation feared. For instance they were held responsible for the Long Beach incident even though they hadn’t yet gone on stage, and had to defend their lyrics, mainly from Kurtis Blow, who was disgruntled in the first place.

Anyway, another traditional American value personified by Simmons is self-actualization. Because of the sheer emphasis placed upon the appearance, it was clear Simmons was not just fashioning himself as a successful individual, but the groups he managed as well. It was easier to claim success already rather than “pay your dues” as the case may be. It also fits quite well into hip hop’s overall element of bragging and not actually just doing something. For instance, a rapper can use an entire song to rap about how hard he’s going to hit you or how smooth his rhymes are, while all the while proving his point. It’s almost a narrative (out of the time period, but “Can’t Nobody Do It Better” by Keith Murray springs to mine. He calls himself a gifted lyricist rather than letting someone else do it.) I guess that’s the other part of the whole Protestant work ethic and self-realization element of rap, you heap praises upon yourself instead of waiting for someone else. So even though they were claiming hard work and hustling, all they were doing is claiming it, not actually doing it. However, because of the success they found by already claiming prior success, their claims got validation. I see the parallel to Buffalo Bill wherein he became the standard by all other Wild West cowboys were measured by, even though he wasn’t actually a part of the Wild West scene. It’s all about claiming, getting first dibs on the experience. It’s a very personal and immensely competitive field, as exemplified by battle rapping being central to the music’s culture. Interestingly enough, Run-DMC was not engaged in any major rap feuds, but the contention between themselves and the whole Russell dynamic could substitute. Also, the claim LL Cool J copied their style.

So mix this whole brew together and it only seems like a manner of time before a Russell Simmons would fuse the music with economics and make himself personally wealthy. Sure the artists he managed didn’t have the best deals. And he took a lot of creative control over them. Plus, there was a lot of resentment for his control over Run DMC even though they were signed with another label. But Russell needed Run-DMC, since that was his bread and butter for a long time. It allowed him to make Def-Jam, and Phat Farm, and his whole empire. His name as a business icon is pretty much due to Run-DMC. (Insert that quote by Run that Run-DMC actually had five members: Run, DMC, Jam Master Jay, Russell, and God.)

But it all stems from his involvement with Run-DMC and Def Jam. It’s also funny how those two have become so linked, even though Run-DMC was never on Def Jam, but in the collective consciousness, a lot of people just assume that’s where Run-DMC was. So what made this deal with Adidas so important? Well, I’m arguing it’s what made Russell Simmons truly break that wall. It was not just widespread exposure, but also a level of acceptance as well. It was quite a bit of money, sure. Most of the money went to Russell, but that’s to be expected. However, it wasn’t just exposure of the band; it was exposure of the band as a brand. It allowed a much higher level of visibility and availability for people to buy into the hip hop lifestyle. That’s what really sustained them; it wasn’t just the music, but the manner by which people could tangibly identify with the music and the culture. And it was mainstream, that’s the beauty of it. Adidas was not primarily a urban lifestyles company, nor did the deal change their direction that much (indeed, they’re still primarily known as athletic and soccer equipment, not that huge of an urban following aside from nostalgia for Run DMC. That’s another big point, Run-DMC and Adidas are pretty much only synonymous with each other. Sure, Adidas has sponsored other rappers, and Run spends a lot of his time hawking Phat Farm shoes, but there isn’t the same connection with any other product. It truly is unique in that regard). But the deal with Run-DMC opened up the urban market to Adidas, and the mainstream market to Run-DMC. It was a perfectly mutually beneficial deal; neither side got the short end of that stick. A uniquely win-win all around.

The particulars of the deal are also influenced by the purposeful misremembering of history. For instance, current interviews by DMC claim Run’s exclamation to call for the taking off of the audience’s Adidas to be unique to the Madison Square Garden concert, while information at the time is fairly persuasive in arguing it was a regular bit of their shows, and that it had been filmed in Philadelphia by Lyor Cohen and sent to Adidas. Also, DMC mentions Russell, inspired by Run’s improvisation to quickly run and hustle an endorsement deal. This actually fits the hip hop practice of claiming an actually lengthy action was easy (and counter-intuitive, since rappers like to claim their extreme work ethic when things hadn’t happened yet. It’s pretty much a purposeful reversal of reality). The narrative works better if it’s Russell who scores the Adidas deal, not members of his Rush Management team. The participants are probably well aware of the effectiveness of the story and have in time; either willfully or subconsciously altered the tale of the endorsement so it becomes a much larger and clearer event. At the writing of their official biography, there was no idea the deal with Adidas would become so iconic, so it wasn’t treated that relevantly. However, as time passed, the event became much more singular. It was the world’s greatest arena, in their hometown, and it was spur of the moment, a much better story.

This idea is the least expanded upon, but it would probably get to how rappers now will mention products in their songs and get some what disappointed when they aren’t paid. Also, it’s how some companies try to get away from appealing to urban markets. It’s an interesting concept, but it needs to be expanded. Alright, let’s take this expansion of the thesis another direction. Russell Simmons is already the preliminary figure in the “My Adidas” aspect, in that it’s actually about his management style at Rush management. What if we expanded into Def Jam and Phat Farm, which were two extensions of his prowess with the hip hop market? Granted, Def Jam is a concurrent development with Run-DMC, but it mixes in Rick Rubin, and also builds on his reputation. Indeed, even though the two were never truly linked, the assumption was there. But his hands on management style was pretty key to the label’s success, but also its challenges. Artists weren’t exactly appreciative of his taking all their money. Indeed, I remember complaints how it seemed Russell had his hands into everything, as if all his hands were taking all your cut. In his defense, he claimed the big record companies were taking his. But still, it might be interesting to expand in the thesis into
criticism of Russell’s style. Big example, Jay always had problems with the IRS. Even after his murder, money had to be raised to pay off his house and provide for his kids’ education. And it was a public fund-raiser, even though Russell and Lyor could have easily cut a check. Furthermore, why was he in this predicament in the first place? Most people claim he was never flashy, and the material he had was modest considering someone of his fame. But if Run-DMC was such a success, should he have been paid? Also, Jay was signed to Def Jam, but Run and DMC were on Profile. Perhaps Jay got less lucrative deal? It’s amazing how the artists represented by Simmons and on Def Jam would never straight up criticize his taking a large cut, but the resentment is there. Of course, isn’t that every artist and their management? Ronin Ro suggests Russell was simply doing the best he could with the current situation. And there’s an element of truth to that, I suppose. There was no precedence for getting rap truly out there to a widespread mainstream audience. Plus, if you get down to it, pretty much any regional rap that developed outside of New York was due to these artists getting very wide exposure. It seems simple, but the most mainstream artists had the most effect. Sure, the “sell outs” might have been inspired by the Busy Bees and Kool Moe Dees of the world, but since they got the widest exposure first, they became the originators.

But all that exposure comes from Russell’s desire to make himself wealthy, to be frank. And that’s not a bad thing. Heck, it’s a very American thing to do. America is all about presenting itself as the land of opportunity; and Russell Simmons probably bought into that myth pretty hard. As such, it provides justification for a lot of his more selfish actions. It also fits into a greater American narrative. He’s a success story; he came from nothing to make something that most people were giving away for free. But the beauty of it comes in that it’s a self-told success story. He’s the guy guiding his narrative. As such, he’d be very image conscious, as evidenced by his branding and attention to visual appearance. And that’s why clothing makes such a likely extension of his branding.

Clothing isn’t as open to interpretation as other elements. It’s very appearance based, but it makes sense, since it’s linked to commercialization and product placement. His name became the product, hence why they call Phat Farm an urban lifestyles company, not a rap music clothing label. But judging by Russell’s attempt to ensure a Phat Farm racing jacket wouldn’t be worn by bums, he tries to be purposefully limiting.

So yeah, that's what it is now. All about economics and self-actualization through branding. I'll be really surprised if anyone actually reads this.

And We're Back!

2008-12-06T13:08:00.000-08:00

So the semester is over. Finally. Sorry that I haven't updated as much as I'm prone to, but between school and work, I haven't had much time for anything else. However, I now actually have some free time on my hands.

Anyway, I've got some great news. I get to start my thesis next semester, with my topic declared viable, and with the professor I wanted!!!

Yeah, that's incredibly dorky news, but I suppose everyone's inner history geek gets its day.

So for the duration of this break, I will be traveling to Houston, Shreveport, and New Orleans (hopefully to catch a Hornets game) as well as doing preliminary research for my thesis. I might post the prospectus up here just in the unlikely event anyone would be interested.

A Few of my Favorite Rap Things

2008-11-15T11:18:00.000-08:00

So last night, the obtainment of rap beats came up. Needless to say, I mentioned the easiest manner to get some killer ones was to take musical elements of stuff you like and blend it together. For example, take the best 7 seconds of a disco song, speed it up, add some drums, and volia, an awesome beat all your own.

Of course, this topic got me thinking about my own favorite musical/rap elements I would love to blend one day. (Among many other things, "Rap Producer" has always been one of my dream jobs. Seriously, I enjoy rap producers more than rappers themselves)

And without further ado, a long list no one is actually going read, but will probably rate has my favorite blog post ever. The elements of my hypothetical greatest rap song ever. (Also, mentions of "Biscuits and Kool-Aid," the single I cut a few years back, will be kept to a minimum)

1. The Base

Personally, I think the theme song to "What's Happening" is criminally underused as a rap sample. Seriously, that "bawm, bam bam bawm" would be killer on some track. So on my hypothetical rap song, I think that's going to be the base. Like the bouncy beginning and some of the horn section.

2. Drums

Okay, tribal is a tad overdone. So is that Dwahli-stuff that was popular a few years back. But, I don't want to go minimalist or anything. I mean, "What's Happening" in the background, it's brassy and large. So, let's go a Steel Drum trill on the 3rd beat of every other measure. It's noticable, but not overtly so.

3. Random sound cue.

Though it's already heavily, HEAVILY sampled, the keyboards from "Gypsy Woman" are like my favorite intro in music. Especially when it shifts into that lower key on the "rackety piano" section about 2 minutes in. So that's going to come into play in my hypothetical rap track. Plus, it could sync up nicely to the "What's Happening" theme. Put that on a loop.

4. The Breakdown.

Though convention might tell you otherwise, my favorite Britney Spears song is not "Oops, I Did It Again." In all actuality, my all-time favorite Britney thing she's ever done is the 3rd minute of "Boys." (The non-Neptunes Remix version. I've got mad love for Pharell and Chad, but they got rid of the song's best part) So this new joint is going to have a 3rd minute breakdown, with an "Ooomm...POP!" 1,2 drum beat. Maybe throw in a little chorus, like a "Sexy, sexy...ha-HA!" a la "Change Clothes," right before the final verse, when I really throw it down.

5. Producer shout-out.

This is the most important part. Seriously, my all-time most recongizable part of a track is the producer/artist shout out. Like one or two words, but it's a seal of approval. Of course, now I'm going to have to list my all-time faves:

"Luda!" (Ludacris. "Why Don't We Fall In Love?" remix, Anmarie)
"I go by the name of Swizz Beatz the monsta!" (Swizz Beats. "Bring 'em Out", T.I.)
"Collipark!" (Mr. Collipark. "Promise Ring", Tiffany Evans)
"This has been...a hot buttered production...now time for some hot buttered seduction...oh yeah!" (Self. "Biscuits and Kool-Aid." Studakris. Yeah, I couldn't help myself)
"Dip-set" (A little understated)(Juelz Santana. "There's Nothing" remix, Sean Kingston)
"JUST BLAZE!" (Just Blaze. The original. The one that made me fall in love with the concept.)
"Woo!" (Nelly. Every Nelly song ever)

Now let's see how this hypothetical track stands up against my pick for the greatest rap song of all time, "Izzo" produced by a young and unknown Kanye West.

Okay, "Izzo" just blew it out of the water. However, you might be thinking to yourself, "Izzo" does not contain a producer shout-out." Ah ha! You are wrong there. During the Breakdown section following Jay's last verse, in the music video, Kanye West pulls off the greatest producer appearance of all time. Flanked by three girls, he scrolls down the tattoo on the underside of his arm, and then shimmies a bit. Perfect.

Seriously, I know wedding photographs have to be taken still. But. If I get the chance to have a "wedding 3-second clip" be taken, I'm totally getting 3 bridesmaids to flank me as I do the Kayne move. It's seriously that awesome.

So. I think I've abandoned what little readership I have with this post.

So it's been two months, how the heck is Stu?

2008-10-24T08:45:00.000-07:00

It's been a long time since I made a post. Let's try to rectify that.

Honestly, I've been crazy busy this semester. I have 3 straight days of classes and 3 straight days of work, with only Monday's off, most of which I spend preparing for class. My paper writing ability in terms of sheer volume has increased exponentially. I like the work and my fellow collegues in the department, but it's made me realize some things.

One, I'm way more interested in teaching history than writing it. Don't get me wrong, I'll do my thesis and disertation. And probably write a book when I get out, but I'm interested in getting prizes and exposure for my writing. Research bores me a little. Citations are overrated, but a necessity. But to be frank, I'm much more interested in teaching at a smaller level and getting more interaction with my students than sitting atop the ivory tower doling out books.

Two, I've defintely picked the right area of interest for further study. There is no scholarship on my time period, so I'm going into a big open field. Sweet. Everyone I've explained my topic finds it interesting and worth further study.

And that's about it. I'll say more when I have more time.

Seven Years Later

2008-09-11T14:55:00.000-07:00

Today is September 11th. A once mundane date which has all sorts of meaning. Though it's not original, I feel compelled to write my story. Everyone has one, but it's my own.

As always I remember that morning being like any other. I walked into my 3rd period World History class to the expected sight of a substitute. Our regular teacher hard long since taken extended leave for what we later learned was cancer. Of course, we didn't know this at the time and were simply glad to be rid of her. (She was a first year teacher from Southeastern who mispronounced tons of basic Historigraphical words. Being seniors, we all thought she was far under our supreme intellect)

Anyway, it wasn't one of the regular subs who normally roamed the halls of Baton Rouge High, regardless we sat down for some worksheets and busy work. Work I am all too familiar with handing out as a sub. About 20 minutes into class, Sheena came in and informed us that planes had hit the World Trade Center, and that one had fallen down.

Of course, I didn't fully contemplate this information. How could I? Shortly thereafter, we learned of the Pentagon. Terrorists attacks weren't supposed to be this big, were we at war? Who could have done this? I remember saying "This stuff is way too big for Bin-Laden to undertake" that very class.

We turned on the class TV and watched the live images. New York was burning. Only one tower was standing. It looked so bizzare, the lack of its twin. However, after a few minutes of watching, the second tower finally collapsed. We knew people were dead, but had no idea how many.

It was at that very moment my thoughts turned to one potential victim. My parents and I had been there only a month prior. We had been to his office. We had taken the train underneath the building. We'd gotten ice cream at a Ben and Jerry's. All of that was gone. And my brother along with it.

At the time, Scott was working as a stock trader in the second tower. As my mind began to realize this thought, I felt sick to my stomach. I wanted to throw up, cry, or both, if possible. Sure, my brother was way older than me, and we never were that close, but he was still my brother. Thoughts of him began racing in my head. The time we spent in Central Park watching rugby games. His sibling tormenting. His letting me sit on his back as extra weight for doing push ups. His genius ability to write and preform music. His non-chalant intellect. All that was gone with the destruction of a building in New York. I couldn't handle it.

But even in this moment of extreme grief, a bastion of hope began to form. I remembered he was my brother, a guy idolized as a child. There was no way he could die like this. No way he'd let something this pathetic kill him. He had to be alive. He just had to.

Not knowing what else to do, I informed Austin, who was sitting in front of me of my plight. Somehow a cell phone was procured from another student. Even though they were incredibly against school policy at that time, somethings take precedence. I took the phone and not knowing who else to call, I called my mother. No luck. My father. No luck. I didn't know Scott's cell number, and my sister was in England at the time, so she'd be a dead end as well.

It was then I remembered our answering machine had the ability to let you listen to the messages if you called in and entered a password. But I didn't think it had been set up, let alone know the password, but I tried calling it anyway. Whenever the option came to input the numeric code, I took a gamble and tried the first digits of our phone number.

It worked.

It informed me that we had one new message. And I will remember it verbatium til the day I die. It was short, but it was all I needed to hear.

"Hey, I'm sure you saw New York got all blown up or whatever, but I'm alive"

I later found out that Scott's train had been running late that day and he'd been watching on the Jersey side of the depot when the first plane hit. He then watched it all from across the river.

But he was alive.

I'm not going to lie and say that's when Scott and I became best friends, but it made me appricate him that much more.

So that's that.

Life in Funville

2008-09-05T12:17:00.000-07:00

So the past couple of days, life in Shreveport has been oddly quiet.

I got some new shoes. And they're pimp taco.

I also learned why my dad is the greatest ever. Here he is with my new little cousin Maddox. Note, Maddox is eating and greatly enjoying a lemon whilst dad holds him. If I can be a fraction of the father my dad is, I'll be a very lucky and successful man.

"Gustav" Seriously? Where all the other "G" names taken?

2008-09-03T18:13:00.000-07:00

I write this in air conditioned, wifi-ready, and all around decent Funville, USA.

I usually don't care for Shreveport that much, but it's been a life saver. After spending the past two nights sans power, attending to both our and my sister's homes, and running low on food, the Tully's have decided to stay in Shreveport until either Sunday or when the power comes on, whichever is first. It wasn't an easy decision, especially considering the need around us, but personal sanity took priority. We have made sure our neighbors are safe, and have left to ride out the post-storm.

Honestly, I can't remember a hurricane this bad, but at the same time, being so graceful. I suppose I must explain. I have never seen so many trees that have fallen in the only way possible as to not crush a house. I have never seen so few fatalities with so much destruction. For the worst part of the storm, my father and I watched a squirrel cling to one of our oaks. And he survived. Sure, he was wet, and probably scared out of his mind, but he was alive.

God's eye was on the city of Baton Rouge more than the storm's. Yes, power will take forever. Yes, it has been impossible to find food and ice. But we are still surrounded by his greatness. No matter how wretched the storm was, we are still alive. We learned from Katrina, and God's grace is all over this city. Even when needed supplies were being handed out, I still saw grace and civility amongst the refugees.

It's funny, I've never been a refugee before, but it's interesting. I look ridiculosly stupid. I desperately need a new pair of shoes since my all purpose New Balances got mucked up too bad to salvage. So I've been wearing my dress Docs with shorts. Yeah, I look stupid.

However, considering everything I could have lost, I am so lucky. My family is fine. Maximus is fine. My sister and her husband are fine. Our neighbors are fine. The elderly deaf couple across the street is fine. Our property is fine. Our trees are fine. Everything that could go wrong hasn't. As my dad said "When this much goes right, it's not being lucky, it's being blessed"

I know things are rough. And they are truly very bad. But even in the pit of despair, we are still so blessed.

What the Hey, I'll Rant on Guglielmucci

2008-08-23T15:04:00.000-07:00

So, this Michael Guglielmucci character...

I suppose I should give my background on the situation. I'm not a fan of Hillsong music (not like I think it's bad, it's just not my favorite), nor am I a huge follower of the various movements in Australia. I have never fully heard the "Healer" song in its entirety. Indeed, I had only heard of the song/story not even a month ago.

That being said, I was very touched by this guy's story. I heard he wrote the song after being diagnosed with terminal cancer. Seeing as I recently had a very dear friend who died of same disease, I could empathize with his plight. I felt terrible for his family and admired his courage in preforming with oxygen tanks and the like.

But, I always found him suspect. If he truly had terminal cancer, he wouldn't be so large, nor able to perform. He could claim all the healing he could possibly desire, but sometimes people just die. Yet he seemed to defy the odds, and I personally know people who gained resolve in their illness via proxy.

Anyway, the truth comes out about his condition, I was geniunely stunned. To be frank, I thought he was going to claim some "supernatural healing" and let doctors examine him. But he didn't. And he also claims a pornography addiction as his reason for his damaged psyche. Some people rightfully believe he might have Munchausen syndrome. Whatever he has, he is not well in the head.

But I began to think about the people he truly affected. His family, for one. Apparently his wife and kids were just in the dark as everyone else. I could not imagine lying to my wife about such a wretched thing (I mean sure, I'd keep my obsession with "The Wire" and my utter hatred of Kerri Strug under my hat until our 10th wedding anniversary or so). To make her feel so helpless and pained for my fake condition? That's inexcusable. I would divorce him so fast, his head would spin. Let alone all the therapy that's going to be needed to undo all the damage done to his kids.

Plus, there's the money issue. The church did the right thing in demanding he get audited. He gave people false hope and they literally bought into that lie. People sent money for his treatment and his family's welfare. I really want to know what he's been spending it on.

I'm not even going to touch his claims of "God just healed me of 30 broken bones" and the like. It's just too painful to dig up.

However, I find myself at a crossroads. His cancer was a lie. An utter and complete lie. And it did insane damage to his family, friends, and congregation. But. He's still alive. And there has to be some relief in that. No matter how deep the betrayal, he still lives to see another day. His wife might divorce him, but her children's father still lives. The threat of losing him from circumstances beyond her control has been appeased. Though she may never talk to him again, at least she didn't lose him.

Because if I were to find out that Adam had faked his death and the whole cancer thing, to be honest, I'd be over-joyed just to see him alive. Heck, I might even congratulate him on an excellent job of pulling a fast one on everybody. Sure, I'd feel betrayed, and like a chump for giving away so much money in his name. But all that wouldn't matter because he'd be alive again, and our relationship could continue. While I might never view him or trust him the same way ever again, he'd still be alive.

There is no sin so henious God will not forgive us. And as much as it burns me to say this, we must err on the side of God's grace rather than his judgment. Yes, there should be a special place in hell for preachers like this, who lie to sway their audience. However, that is not for me to decide, it's all up to God. God sees this man's heart, no matter how twisted and sick it might be. Indeed, if he truly is suffering from a mental condition, only God can judge him, because he is past the capacity of men to evaluate. I hope the strengthed faith people got from his words is not shaken. I hope they see God rather than the messenger. I know most won't but there will be some who will.

Yes, this man needs to be barred from the pulpit. Yes, his wife probably will and is completely justified in divorcing him. He has spun a web of lies and now he must pay the consequence. He has already reaped what he has sown.

However, I cannot in good conscience see any benefit in destroying this man any further than he has already destroyed himself. His downfall is clear, and he will be paying for it for the rest of his life. There's nothing more than can be done to him that he hasn't already done to himself.

So I guess that's my thoughts on that.

Lessons From Acting

2008-07-30T14:04:00.000-07:00

So it's been an eternity since I last posted something of substance, I suppose I should try and rectify that situation by one of my trade-mark long posts without much of a point. Major kudos to anyone who actually reads it.

The past month or so has been pretty interesting. I've finished the book and have a couple of bound manuscripts running around out there (if you happen to hold one in your hands, you are incredibly lucky as only two have been given away as gifts). But for the most part, I haven't really been writing. This is not to say I haven't been thinking of things, but I'm kind of taking a well-deserved, in my humble opinion, break. The process of writing "The Butcher's Block" (Still only the working title, if anyone has some recommendations for better titles, holla at cha boy) was incredibly intense. It wasn't draining or anything, but it consumed most of my time and energy. And to be honest, for this last month before school starts, I kind of want to take a vacation for my brain. Cause it's going to get intense come late August (3 seminars on 3 consecutive days. I must be hardcore crazy) and I want to enjoy a couple weeks of non-strenuous mental activity before I delve back into the world of Academia.

To this end, I recently took an actual vacation. Well, the best vacation I could afford with gas prices and my wacky work schedule. Instead of joining the rest of my family in the Greek Isles, London, and Paris, Stu went to the incredibly posh town of Kilgore, Texas. It was actually a great trip. My primary, and indeed sole, purpose for going to Kilgore was to see my dear friend Collin, he of the long, luxurious blonde locks which make all the lady folk swoon. Collin and I went to college together, in addition to preforming together in "Midsummer Night's Dream." He is currently a big time actor in NYC where he is making the rounds on Broadway and the Met. He was in Kilgore as part of their Shakespeare festival, which was actually a much bigger deal than I thought it was going to be. (He pretty much took the gig cause his mom lives in Marshall and he wanted his family to see his work for the first time in years) . Anyway, I got to see him in "1776," which I am well aware is not a Shakespeare play, but a musical about the signing of the Declaration of Independence. Collin played Thomas Jefferson, got a couple of decent solos, was was the third to last to bow in an ensemble of considerable size.

Man, I forgot how good he was. Don't get me wrong, I knew he had considerable talent. He's Collin, freakin' Collin for crying out loud. He totally played the mess out of Lysander, while I was doing my best to ham up Bottom for all he was worth. But jeez, Collin nailed all of his Jefferson stuff. Even his beautiful hair was appropriate for the time period. I could rave on and on and about his performance, but I'll summarize by saving this, it was Collin, on stage. Yes, it was that dang good.

Anyway, afterwards we went to Kilgore's most luxurious dining establishment open after midnight, Whataburger, and then spent the next couple of hours just straight up talking. I got some really good insight into all sorts of stuff going on in my life, as well as digging into his head for a while. Concepts which I had been struggling with for months were made clear as day. It was a true moment of clarity. I won't bore you with all of the details, but I believe I will hark upon one which has clear spiritual rammifications.

The ensemble of the show did not know each other prior to being cast. They were all from very separate backgrounds, experiences, and levels of professionalism. No one was from the same town, theater, or school, but they all got cast to preform two shows a day for about two months. But even while they all had different motivations, they all desired the same goal and outcome. Regardless of their technique, beliefs about their fellow actors, and relative success as a professional actor, they all wanted to put on a good show. The success of the show was paramount above all else. No one truly wants to put on a bad show, no matter how beneath them the stage might be. Collin has been able to find work in New York City, a level of success most his fellow castmates can only dream of, but he still wants a good show. While they might be seeing the festival as their chance to have a big break, Collin's primary reason for accepting the gig was to be close to his family.

See, those motivations are completely different, but equally valid. Furthermore, all of those motivators desire the same outcome. All of these roads want to lead to the same place, a good show. Jesus said "Whoever is not against you is for you" (Luke 9:50) in regards to a man not among the disciples who was using Jesus' name to cast out demons. The man clearly desired the same outcome as Jesus, freeing the individual from possession, and was not shy about using the name of Jesus to do so. I truly wish we could do that to fellow Christians, to just realize we are all on the same team, regardless of denomination, background, personal theology etc. I know I'm just as guilty of anyone of not complying to this concept, but improvement is a hallmark of growth. But it would be great if we could all dismiss our unstated, judgmental criteria and just embrace people as good sees them.

But more specifically to me came the question of submitting to leadership. Let me expand upon this concept and see if I can say it without offending. Okay, regardless of the geography of the actors, the majority of the Shakespeare Festival's stage crew came from in and about Kilgore. Specifically the stage managers. A little theater lesson: whenever a show actually start performances, the director's job is finished. Indeed, most professional directors do not attend
the performances of the shows they directed outside of opening night. And why should they? Their job is finished. The person who is in charge during an actual performance is the stage manager. In the case of the Kilgore festival, many of the stage managers were college students or younger. And they were put in charge of a cast of several professional actors much older and experienced, as well as rightfully egoistical. But regardless of their inexperience and pitiful position, the stage manager is in charge come performance time. And as much as the actors might belittle the stage manager personally, a true professional will not let these personal feelings come into play come show time. It is possible to respect the position and acknowledge its authority. Because no matter how much an actor cannot stand the stage manager, nothing will result in a role reversal. There is no way for a stage manager to cease yielding that amount of power. For the sake of the show, an actor must lay aside their egotism and just accept that the stage manager is in control.

Wow. We all so need to do that. Though we might not care for the person in authority, we cannot revoke that position. Indeed, if an actor goes out of their way to ruin the stage manager, their success will result in ruining the show as well. If we are all desiring to put on a good show, or serve Jesus, we must not let personality conflicts get in the way of our performance. It is possible to divorce yourself from your feelings and be professional. You might not like somebody, but it is possible to lay aside your feelings for the sake of the greater good.

At the same time, the downfall of a stage manager comes when they try too hard to please the cast. A good stage manager knows they will be mocked, and humiliated, and not invited to the cast parties. But regardless of the cast's feelings toward them, they must be self-assured in their position. Indeed, they are the law and they are held accountable for the actions of the cast. Even if the cast doesn't like them personally, or the stage manager spends all their time trying to appease the cast, the stage manager has to answer for the show as a whole. The cast does not need a buddy or a friend, they have that amongst themselves, instead, the cast needs someone who will gladly take the role of the bad guy for the good of the show. The purposeful antagonist. The person who berates you about missing your cues, flubbing your lines, and not acting professional during rehearsal. Indeed, the best stage managers I've ever been under were the ones who did not try to be friendly, but made the show their first priority.

Though it may be a hard pill to swallow, true spiritual leadership is like being a stage manager. People will not like you. They will mock you, they may even try to subvert your authority. However, the true leadership comes through not letting you are put in charge of deter your course. Because when it all comes to it, both the actors and stage manager desire the same outcome, a good show. Regardless of the enviroment, a true professional will desire a good show. It's only when we get egotistical and deem certain situations beneath us that our desire for a good show is lessened.

Collin could have easily felt that way about Kilgore, except his motivation was different. He
was not trying to further his career, rather, he participated so his family could watch him. And that was the reason he wanted a good show. Not personal gain, but for his mom and brother. I see this concept providing clarity for church issues. The reasons we attend a particular church are multiple, for some it might be all they have. For others, it's just a step on a career path. For others, it could be the best possible outlet. But regardless of their reason for attending, they all desire the same result, God being glorified.

I believe this is paramount. We must know our fellow worshippers, as well as leaders, have a myriad of different reasons for attendance, most of which are not like our own. But more importantly, our various motivations all want the same outcome.

Anyway, Collin and I stayed up til about 5 am talking about stuff. After that, I hit the road to Shreveport and visited some family. A day later, I was back at work. A good vacation all in all. But more importantly, I was glad to see my brother Collin (yes, he's one of THOSE brothers) and get some hardcore spiritual learning.

Wooo!

2008-07-22T12:00:00.001-07:00

For the record, today is my birthday.

I shall "woo" accordingly

WOOOOOOOOO!!!

I Normally Don't Do This, But What The Hey?

2008-07-16T18:13:00.000-07:00

Okay, go to Stuff Christians Like website right now and check out their Tattoo contest.

Go ahead...check it out.

There's a freaking Shawreth tattoo!!! The exact same kind I wussed out of getting for my past couple of birthdays.

If there's a contest, vote Shawreth!

A Post I Never Thought I'd Ever Actually Write

2008-07-06T14:37:00.000-07:00

It is finished.

Yes, I have to edit it. Yes, it is full of typos. Yes, I will probably have to remove a few entries. But more important, the hard part is over. I have 158 complete days worth of reading.

I suppose I have to explain a few things. My main purpose in writing this devotional was to keep it accessible. I wanted to be undaunting to the reader, a universal appeal and application. After printing what I had in manuscript form, I realized something: it was finished. It was complete. I could not think of anything I wanted to write about that I hadn't done already. Sure, I had plenty of topics and references remaining, but adding length would take away from its accessibility. And I was not about to sacrifice quality for quantity. Not as though my further writing would be sub-par, far from it, but I wanted to keep my audience in mind. There is brilliance and excellence in that which is simple. I did not want a lumbering behemoth instead of a sleek springbok.

After talking it over with a pastor friend of mine, (who graciously agreed to write the foreword) my course is set. I have a complete work that needs to be polished and finished. I have no idea where this is going to lead, but I can't wait to see how far it goes.

How's This for Apt?

2008-07-02T13:15:00.000-07:00

Ready for something cool I found out while I was at work?

Okay, my name/handle is "Studakris." Which is short for: "Stu, da Kris". Long story of how I got that name, but rest assured it has a good meaning. (Combination of my biting tongue and rapping ability). But here's what you don't know...

Studienkreis

It's a German word. It means "study circle" or like "brainstorming session." It can refer to these big conferences where they invite experts and stuff to have a huge pow-wow of ideas. They hash stuff out and at the end, they get some pretty sweet ideas. I had no idea this concept existed, but it sounds awesome and I really want to go to one.

So yeah, "Studienkreis" and "Studakris." An ironic pairing, don't you think? Perhaps I should host the Studakris studienkreis sometime.

Doing The Numbers

2008-06-28T13:14:00.000-07:00

Wow, it's been a while since I last updated. Let's do the numbers:

1. Scott's visit went really well. It was good seeing him.

2. Apparently the whole world thinks I'm the king of house-sitting cause I'm up to 3 houses I'm looking after. People cannot get back from vacations soon enough.

3. I've been battling writer's block. That being said, I'm up to day 150. Woo! That's 5/12ths done! I'm almost to the halfway point, then it's all downhill from there.

So yeah, I'll do a longer post later, but right now I'm off to battle 151

This Can't Be Good...

2008-06-18T16:58:00.000-07:00

So a perfect storm is brewing.

My parents leave this weekend for their long, and long overdue, vacation to Greece. There they will finally meet my brother-in-law's family, as well as tour the islands and whatnot. Futhermore, my father will finally fulfill a promise he made to my mother to take her to Paris. (Funny story, he's been before with me and my sister, but never with her. I suppose going to the "City of Love" with your children, but leaving your spouse at home, is going to cost you big time in the future)

So along attended for two houses, another wrinkle has developed. Turns out my brother is coming in this weekend for some business deal.

Seriously mothers, lock up your daughters. No good can come out of my brother being in town. If you are approached this weekend by a short, muscular, incredible guitar player who happens to be quite attractive, and looks nothing like me, be forewarned. He will shower you with diamonds, he has an incredible voice, and shares my last name. But good luck trying to get that last name for your own. He will not settle down for nothing. I'm just trying to offset your future broken heart.

A Flair for the Dramatic

2008-06-13T15:02:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm up to day 105. I feel a big rush of entries coming for the weekend. I got a feeling it's going to prolific.

I wish there was something interesting to say, but sadly there's not. I'm now set in a summer schedule and that's pretty much all there's going to be for the foreseeable future.

I had a funeral this week. Thyre McMains, drama teacher and director extrodinare. She died after a long bout with breast cancer. I can't think of anyone who simply Lived life more than Mrs. Thyre. She was the dominant force for my middle and early high school years. Straddling the line between teacher, parent, and advisor, she helped me in both dramatic and life endevours. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and she was capable in writing and directing. I became a fairly competent actor thanks to her. Even when my career path no longer included theater, she made sure I brought a dramatic fair to all aspects of my life. No matter what the circumstance, Mrs. Thyre was always positive and happy. She made sure no matter what the personality conflicts between the cast, they all came together for the good of the show. Through her, I worked and gained a professional acceptance for individuals I would never be friends with. Indeed, you don't have to become best buddies with everyone, but you have to respect their abilities. Contraversely, you can't let personal feelings for a person overshadow their inadequances. She was not shy about removing an actor who wasn't pulling their weight.

Her service was held in the Old State Capital, which was incredibly lovely. Though not billed as a religious service, Rev. Chris Andrews officiated. It contained a mixture of 4 faiths: Catholicism, Protestantism, Shakespeare, and Beatles. There was just something about singing "Let It Be" as the final musical selection that was so appropriate.

Something Andrews said struck me. He mentioned that the capital building was not a sanctuary, but at the moment, it was sanctified. While there was no telling what vile scheming had gone on in the room decades before, at the moment, it was a place of worship. We were there to honor God, and that in of itself made the room holy. And I must say, the interior of the Old State Capital is far lovely than most churches I have seen.

No matter how wretched our surroundings, or their past evil, God's mere presences nullifies it and makes all holy. Indeed, God's essence transfigures all into holiness. It becomes set apart. For that hour, the house chamber of the Old State Capital was holy because God's presence was there. Though we gathered to honor the memory of a departed friend, it was overshadowed by God's awesomeness.

Today Was a Good Day

2008-06-03T19:10:00.001-07:00

All due respect to Ice Cube, but today was a very average, yet quite good day. I didn't have work, so I checked out the new dog park with Maximus, wrote some more entries, and had supper with Mark at Mestizo's. (For the record, I am up to Day 80. Woo! Won't be too soon before long now.)

These upcoming few weeks will be interesting. Shea and Alex leave for their annual sojurn to England and Greece Thursday. As per custom, I will be looking after their residence. Furthermore, George and Bev will also be joining them in Greece for a lengthy vacation. In short, I'll be house-sitting for two. I'll have a number of weeks of having to take care of two houses. It should be fun. I might as well announce that I'll be having at least one big stupid party. Everyone is invited.

It's been two months since Adam died. It's strange, it feels like he's been gone for an eternity; yet at the same time, it feels like it was just yesterday I got that terrible call. Things aren't really easier, just different-er. I don't know if I've been taking it very well at all. Honestly, I just am curious to know how long it is going to last. Granted, my initial mourning has long been over. I am no longer completely paralyized in suffering. I can go about my day with little to no incident. I guess I've patched things up with God decently as well. I'm not really bitter anymore, just...jeez, I dunno, jaded?

Anyway, that's not important. I usually have more to say, but I've been putting most of it into the Butcher's Block. Actually, I might start putting those up on here. Might gain some interest for the book. If anyone makes the suggestion, I'll do it.

Update on Progress and on Those Wacky Disciples

2008-05-24T22:06:00.000-07:00

I just finished my entries detailing lesson from each one of the Twelve Disciples. (I'm skipping Judas Iscariot and replacing him with Matthias. Call me a purist) Though it's taken me much longer than some of my other devotionals, I've quite enjoyed these. Sure I've had a wicked case of writer's block this past week, but I'm proud say that I am up to day 58! Woo! Only 308 to go!

I've noticed something about the Twelve Disciples. Nobody knows their names. I'm just as guilty, but I've done my best to rememorize them all. I'm willing to bet I could offer random strangers on the street 100 bucks to name all 12, not even in order, and no one could get them all. Heck, I'll go even further. I could offer the same bounty to church-goers, and I doubt anyone could name them all, but I might make them do it in order (Yeah, the disciples are listed in a particular order that only has a few fluxuations.) It's funny, these guys are held in such high esteem, but no one could pick out their names without google or wiking it.

Let's look at the facts, among the disciples there are:
-Two, possibly three, sets of brothers
-6 who share their name with another disciple (Simon, James, and Judas)
-A host of occupations, most notably fishermen and a tax collector
-A ultra-patriotic nut-job
-A bookish scholar
-At least one former disciple of John the Baptist
-A guy who's known by several names in an attempt to remove the stigma from his given name
-A man who brought Christianity to a region 1300 years before a modern missionary set foot there
-2 disciples who some claim are brothers of Jesus (I find this highly doubtful, their ages would be quite young)
-A person who was so successful in maintaining the disciple status quo he's never mentioned outside of his inclusion among the 12.
-A guy who is claimed to have slaughtered Moors on horseback 800 years after his death
-11, or 10, martyrs
-Two authors of the Gospels
-Three (or possibly four) writers of the rest of the New Testament
-A whole host of dudes from a podunk area of Judea. The only member of their company with any sort of "higher birth" and respectabilty was the one who betrayed him.

It's amazing to think such an assortment of individuals shook the very foundations of the earth. Jesus truly picked a motley crew to start his church. And yet, by picking such mundane people, perhaps it was for the best. They were knowledgeable of their own inadequances and failures, but still served Jesus. In fact, the best thing which can be said about their lives was they were devoted until the end, judging by the amount of martyrs. It is for the best they are not outshining Jesus, since Jesus was their focus.

Anyway, let's raise our glass to the twelve. May you always be semi-remembered by Jesus' current followers!

P.S. for the record, it is:
1. Simon called Peter, brother to Andrew
2. James, the Greater, brother of John, called "Moorslayer" in Spanish tradition
3. John, brother to James, only disciple not to be martyred
4. Andrew, first called, brother to Peter, and former follower of John the Baptist
5. Philip, bringer of Bartholomew
6. Bartholomew/Nathaniel, the scholar
7. Levi son of Alpheus, called Matthew, former tax collector
8. Thomas, called the twin, poorly dubbed as a "doubter" and missionary to India
9. James the Lesser, son of Alpheus. Believed to be either Matthew's brother or Jesus' younger brother who later became James the Just, author of the book of James. (But both claims are rather dubious and unlikely.)
10. Judas Thaddeus, also known as Jude, Thaddeus, and Lebbaeus in order to remove the negative connitation of his name. (But not the same person who wrote the book of Jude)
11. Simon the Zealot, a patriotic pro-Jewish state radical (Some believe he is another younger brother of Jesus. Very dubious)
12. Matthias, replacer of Judas Iscariot. (He did such a good job in not bucking the system, he's never mentioned again.) May or may not have died a martyr.

Also, Judas Iscariot, only follower with decent birth and training. Keeper of the purse, betrayer.

Final Update on Missing Relation

2008-05-19T20:56:00.000-07:00

Well, they found and confirmed my cousin's body. It looks like a suicide. Apparently he caught wind of the FBI's investigation and decided to end it all. It also looks like the body had been there for a while, so the Barbados rumors were just rumors. Funeral is Wednesday, and I won't be going. Please pray for the family. My dad's taking this pretty hard. Also, I can't imagine how much this must be devastating to Aunt Joanne and Uncle Frank. To have their son die in this circumstance.

It's funny, on the surface, Mark looked like he had the perfect life. Married to only one woman, 3 kids, good job at the bank, a deacon and taught Sunday School. I suppose we all have secrets, but to have it come out like this...man, that's something else. I can't imagine how much in shock I'd be if it were my dad instead of Mark. Maybe dad's right, that side of the family is cursed.

Anyway, that's that. This caps off four straight days of bummers. Granted, Thursday was the happiest day of my life, so I suppose karma is coming back. Still, Thursday was worth it

Reflections on a Life Well Lived

2008-05-18T20:30:00.000-07:00

Today I commemorate Michael, recipient of a long life. He died suddenly, but not completely unexpected. He was blessed in his longevity. He was never sick; he kept his mind his whole life, and did not suffer. He is survived by his three children: Alex, Robert, and Claire; as well as his ex-wife: Daisy. Proceeded in death by his beloved second wife and mother of his two youngest children. He was 81, still living by himself and enjoying life to the same extent he always did.

Michael was born in 1927, in England or Ireland, I guess. I don’t know too much about his childhood or his parents, presumably because Alex had little contact with them. He was too young to participate in World War II, but I am certain it had a profound influence upon his life. He attended Oxford University, studying under J.R.R Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. A keen mind, he had pronounced aptitude in many areas, particularly language. Indeed, he had mastery of around 20 languages, as well as the working knowledge of scores more.
After graduation, Michael entered into seminary and was ordained as a priest in the Church of England. He had two parishes in his career, one in the English islands, and the other in the South of England. Like all other aspects of his life, Michael showed tremendous promise as a minister, writing profound sermons and serving his congregation well. However, around age 28, Michael had a severe disconnect with his ministry. For reasons known only to him, he abandoned his life and moved to New York City. Still, the Church of England honored Michael’s years of service. At the time of his death, he was still receiving a small pension from the church.

In New York City, Michael began taking classes at Colombia University, presumably for his doctorate, and teaching at the United Nations school. During this time, he received United States Citizenship from the US government as a gift for services rendered. (I’m not exactly sure of the circumstances, dubious or otherwise, surrounding his dual-citizenship, but he had it.) After his time in New York, Michael moved out of country, but with his doctorate as a full professor of linguistics.

It is at this time Michael’s life becomes hazy. He bounced around from country to country, never staying for longer than 3 or 5 years, and setting up schools for linguistics all over the world. After a period of time, he arrives in Greece, where he falls in love and marries his first wife, Daisy. From Greece, the couple moves to Afghanistan. In Afghanistan, Daisy becomes pregnant and gives birth to their first son, Alex. (However, due to labor complications, Alex is born in Greece, following a quick plane flight) The new family moves to India, Lebanon, and Greece.

However, Michael and Daisy divorced. Michael has his next assignment in Mozambique, while Daisy stays in her native Greece. From Mozambique, Michael continued to circumnavigate around the world, setting up schools in locations such as Bangladesh and others. In his 40s or 50s, Michael would remarry a Portuguese woman several years his junior. They would have two children together, Robert and Claire. This new family would continue in the honored tradition of moving all around the globe. However, the sudden passing of his second wife left him a widower with two teenage children.

Michael retired after the death of his second wife. He initially split his time between his wife’s family’s farm in Portugal, and a small village in his native England. However, he permanently moved to England after both of his children decided to pursue University in the English system. He spent his retirement raising his children, and continued to explore his interests in language and travel. Indeed, only a month or two before his death, Michael embarked on a solo trip to Egypt. True to form, he was able to learn enough Egyptian to be sufficient without the use of a translator or resorting to speaking English.

Michael was a devout writer of journals. Every day of his life, he managed to write at least a page detailing his activities and thoughts. He was also meticulous in planning. The week before he passed, he was busy ensuring accommodations for my parent’s trip to England. He was also a spiritual man. In spite of his disconnect from the Church of England, he instilled a desire in his children to make their own decision regarding religion. (Of course, Alex wonders how one can expect their children to become anything but Christian when their father gives them the works of his old professor, C.S. Lewis, as reading material. Alex had no idea that anyone else had ever read the “Narnia” books until he was in middle school.) Furthermore, as he grew older, he allowed his old sermons to be reread, embracing his religious past.

My fondest memory of Michael occurred during my sister’s wedding to his son, Alex. Prior to the rehearsal, as per tradition, Michael came to call upon the bride’s parents at our house. Anyway, in the midst of the entire pre-wedding hubbub, I got a chance to ask Michael about his time at Oxford. It was at that moment when I realized how much Michael’s mind betrayed his appearance. He looked very much like an elderly gentleman, but his intellect was so sharp, it rivaled all others. In his perfectly accented English, he regaled me with tales of Lewis and Tolkien. In particular, he was much more enamored of Lewis, who was a more dynamic speaker, teacher, and spiritual guide. He also told me a bit about his travels over the years. It quite possibly the only time in my memory where I felt an old man under exaggerated his exploits. There were aspects of his life I found fascinating, but he treated as mundane and unworthy to expand upon. In particular, the ease at which he was able to speak so many languages. He had mastered over 20, and could effortlessly flow from one to the other. For about an hour, I sat transfixed and slack-jawed by a level of hyper-intelligence I would never be able to achieve.

Though Michael’s passing was not a complete shock, (he was well advanced in age, especially for a man) it still must be mourned. Michael was an incredibly blessed man. He was blessed in many aspects. He had a mind worthy of envy. He lived a life full of excitement and adventure. He had three children, all of whom thought highly of their father. He had a global community of friends and colleagues. His legacy passes on through his son Alex, who I have been fortunate to get to know. To me, Michael represents a promise. Michael lived his life well, and was rewarded with graceful aging. I cannot reiterate how much he kept his mind. While individuals 20 years his junior are forced into assisted living, Michael was able to live and function on his own. He never had to compromise any aspect of his being. He lived and died at the same lofty level.

Fare thee well, Michael. And may flights of angels sing thee to thy rest. May you rest peacefully for eternity on that hilltop in Portugal, under the olive tree. He has been called, he was counted, and he will be remembered. Even though you might have had your division with God, it is clear that his presence remained on your life. I have little doubt that you are presently enjoying the pleasures of heaven, speaking in tongues more magnificent than the plethora you knew on earth. I look forward to our having another conversation about your time at Oxford, perhaps lasting for ten thousand years and we could be joined by Lewis himself. Know that yours was a life well lived, and worthy of the highest praise.

A Long Expected Admission

2008-05-12T23:12:00.000-07:00

So I've alluded to it long enough. I might as well tell everyone out there in blog land my summer project.

Mainly, I've been reserved about telling anyone this because I wanted to make sure that I actually got started on it. That it wasn't just a lofty dream I said I'd always do, but never did. However, I've been working steadily on it for over a week now, so I have a back log to draw upon. Also, there's a very long story as to how this all came about, but I'll spare you the details unless you ask me in person.

Anyway, my summer project is writing a devotional. Like one of those "one a day for a year" jobbies. I figure if I write somewhere in the area of 5 a day, I should be on pace to finish before the beginning of school. As of this moment, I have 35 written. Furthermore, I have all 365 topics outlined and prepared. Pretty much all I do is pick 5 from the list, cross them off, and write about them. Most of it is just expanding on stuff I've written before, be it journal entries, discussions I've had, papers for school, etc.

This has pretty much been consuming my thoughts all throughout the day. I'm always mentally thinking of verses or examples that go well with my chosen topics.

I also have an unofficial theme for the book, "the butchers block." As Christians, we need meat to sustain us spiritually. But often times, it feels like all that's readily available is milk and broth. If we are to be soldiers Christ, we need meat. Even the greenest recruit gets a couple of hunks of meat to chew on. However, meat in its purest form can be daunting. Though the nutrients are present, no one can eat a whole cow. The cow must be butchered into cuts suitable for consumption. A butcher can cut down a cow into obtainable portions. It is not watering down the meat in any respect, it is just making it smaller.

That's what I hope to accomplish with this devotional. I do not want to compromise on the raw potential of God's word. I want to make it obtainable, yet not detract from its integrity. While at its essence, faith is a personal, irrational belief, it is not completely on it's own. We can never have faith beyond a shadow of a doubt, but God is not a criminal trial. There exists a wealth of evidence for God. It in light of this evidence, we can justify our belief. God gave us a heart and a brain, and both must be attended to. In my own little way, I want to show that God's truth is not simply an emotional experience.

So yeah, the butcher's block. If anyone wants to see some raw cuts, feel free to email.

(For the record, the concept of "The Butcher's Block" as a devotional is hereby copyrighted by Stuart Tully. Any further usage without expressed permission will result in the offender's morality being severely question. And I swear, if I ever hear a sermon with even the remotest relation to butchery, I will make birds flock all over that place. All over that place. Birds will flock. All I have to do is say the word)

Non Nobis, Domine

My Name

2008-05-09T14:14:00.000-07:00

There are a lot of folks who are into name etymology. I'm not really one of them. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's incredibly neat, but I don't think our names have any hidden or life-affirming value. Just because a kid is named "Judas," doesn't mean he's going to stab everyone in the back. (though he will probably get picked last for kickball) To me, a name is just a name. It sounds pretty, but the individual brings out the characteristics, not the other way around.

That being said, I've figured out what my name means and it's spooky how accurate it is.

You see, my full name is pretty much nothing but proper names. None have any real corresponding adjectives. So nothing really jumps out. It's just "Okay, Stu's got nothing but 3 last names in a row." But bear with me on this and we should get somewhere interesting.

Okay, my first name is "Stuart." Stuart is the royal form of the name. There were more than a couple Stuart kings of England and Scotland, most notably, King James. (Yes, that King James) Anyway, it's interesting to note that the more common "Stewart" is the illegitimate form of the name. "Stuart" was reserved for the legitimate children. So "Stuart" implies legitimacy and worth. Also, my parents picked Stuart so I could have the same initals as my siblings, SLT. Though I was supposed to be twin girls, Samantha and Susan, they had the foresight to pick a single male name in case the prognosis was incorrect. (For the record, I don't have a twin of any sort. I was also born, and remain male)

My middle name is "Lucas," the Latin form of Luke. It's a Romanized version of the name. It doesn't really imply anything further, it's just different. Keeping with the SLT theme, my dad picked the name Lucas to pay tribute to a college chum. Needless to say, he hasn't seen my namesake since college. A baffling reason, but whatever. I don't really use my middle name except in taunts.

My last name is the most convoluted. "Tully" is an insanely Irish name. It's pretty much the most Irish you can get without being O'whatever. However, it's origin is actually Latin. The family name of Cicero, the great orator, was Tullius. It somehow became Celticized to "Tully." So Tully could imply speaking ability, due to its most noteworthy member of the family.

So put it all together and you have: "The legitimate son of the Stuarts, who is not a Greek Luke, but is somehow related to Marcus Tullius Cicero."

Needs work, how about: "The rightful heir to the throne of great oration who's not Greek."

Or put it down to layman's speak: "A worthy, yet unconventional, speaker"

I can live with that.

So there you go. My name actually was a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Non Nobis, Domine

Missing Person Update

2008-05-07T16:54:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm not sure if it's good news or bad news, but it certainly is news.

I mentioned my cousin, Mark Ginn, who went missing a while back. It turns out the FBI already had an investigation into his employment at the bank. Furthermore, they believe him to be alive, with rumors placing him in Barbados.

Honestly, I don't know what to think. Part of me is thankful that he's alive, the other part is stunned that he appears to be a fugitive from justice. I truly hope he's contacted his parents, if nothing more than to let them know that he's okay. I suppose more prayers are needed for the whole situation.

Non Nobis, Domine
(Trying yet another send off)

A Chance to Brag on My Dad

2008-05-04T20:36:00.000-07:00

So today was my Dad's birthday, and an iPod was decided to be the best gift possible. Piggy-backing on top of his previously untoppable Christmas present of a Tivo, Dad freaking loves his iPod. Last night I unloaded up some of his favorite tunes, as well as set up his iTunes. Needless to say, he loved it. Having his Bach and Beatles, as well as some Dr. McGee, at his fingertips was too much. He's spent all day playing with his new toy, almost causing a car accident whilst he had his earbuds in his ears. Needless to say, I had to tell him never listen to his iPod while driving.

I suppose now's a decent time to brag on my Dad a bit. To be brief, my Dad's the best dad ever, and I'm so totally biased. He's humble, decent, totally not one to toot his own horn, but someone needs to. I've never had any reason to be at odds with him. He's probably the most selfless person I know, yet at the same time, has the most reasons to be conceited. He's given his life to blind children. His only hobby of note is making beautiful music. He passed up a very lucrative musical career in order to do church music. He seriously is one of the best tenor voices of his generation, and he gave it all up to make music for God. Didn't even really give it up, it wasn't even an issue. I honestly believe that when the big opera houses came calling, it was a non-issue to turn them down. Instead, he choose to be a choir director. At a small Methodist church. He never had any designs of forward progress or moving on to bigger and better things. He simply was content. Sure, he'd occasionally wow the congregation with one of his solos, but for the most part, he was fine just blending into the background. Even when he was requested to sing for a wedding or a funeral, it was always gratis. He'd never dream of taking pay for doing what he loved.

When church politics went bad, Dad was the bigger man. Even though I didn't understand it at the time, and am still dealing with the consequences, his leaving this church was incredibly brave. He was not about to risk a church split, even though he was the wronged party. Though a malicious pastor was spreading outright lies about him, Dad never lashed back. He took the demonization and lies head on, and left. And I won't lie, that was a major event in my upbringing. It clearly marked the boundary between my childhood and my adolescence. It forced me to grow up a lot. A lot of stuff I'm still dealing with today was caused by that instance. (My extreme distrust of preachers, as well as dismissing them as hucksters who pray on the ignorance of the pitiful. A lot of my condescending nature towards church politics. etc.)

But if Dad hadn't of left when he did, I have no doubt in my mind that the ensuing fallout would have completely any sort of faith I had in God. Sure, I have a lot of issues from that instance, but it's made me into the man I am today.

Anyway, back to Dad. He's pretty much my polar opposite. He's not good with crowds or public speaking (unless he's singing, then he's comfortable with thousands of people watching him. Funny quirk). He's very soft-spoken. He also always keeps his word. In the rare event that my dad talks, you better believe that he's going to do whatever he says. He's not one for idle boasts. I don't think I've ever heard him tell a lie. He's never raised his voice in anger against anyone. I can't remember him treating my mother anything but affirming. I mean, I know that they're married and have their disputes, but never in front of anyone, let alone their kids. I've never heard him curse, or tell an off-color joke. He's never threatened anyone, though I have little doubt that if he did, they'd be dispatched handily. Even though his work gets increasingly bureaucratic and stupid, he never complains. He's got a great demeanor with his students, always giving instruction, never dismissive. For his biological children, he'll give anymore. Whenever one of us was sick, he was the one who stayed home from work. Every time I broke a bone, he was the one taking me to emergency room. I got to spend more time with him than most of my peers did with their dad. He was always giving. I can't think of an occasion when I went wanting for anything. I used to joke that Dad was like an ATM, you ask him for $20, he'd give you $20, no questions asked. And it wasn't just when I was younger. I remember one time when my car battery died in McComb on the way back to school, he drove there just to give me a new battery. It pretty much shot his entire Sunday night, but doing it was a non-issue for him. It's just what he does. He's pretty much the most decent person to ever walk the face of the earth, and if I could grow up to be a fraction of the man that he is, I'd consider myself lucky. Having him as an example of a truly Godly man, is probably one of my biggest blessings.

And what's really crazy is that he doesn't thing it's that big of a deal.

I mean, I've asked him how he does it. All he does is laugh and say that it's just what he does. It's only natural. In his words "That's what you're supposed to do." But he can't be blind. He's got to see that judging by the world around him, he's an exception rather than the rule. Most men are not content with their current circumstances. To give up ambition and worldly pursuits just to affect their little world around them. To deny a birthright of wealth to follow his heart. To give up an easily obtainable fame and fortune just to preform music for God. And to give that up as to not upset the congregation's spiritual health. To stay with his wife and be an incredible father to his children, when many are prone to wander away from family obligations.

I honestly could go on for days, but I'll end with this. Dad is truly my role model. I want to emulate him in my everyday life. I wish everyone who happens to read this gets a chance to meet him. Cause he really is that good.

Never fail a brother

An End of Semester Look Back

2008-05-03T18:14:00.000-07:00

Wow. I can't believe that the semester's over. I look at my schedule, and all I have is free space. I have no idea what I used to do with all that time! It was such a strange feeling this morning to wake up and honestly have nothing to do. For the past couple months I always had a book I needed to read, or a paper I could work on. I've got none of that.

I'm really struggling to think of what to do with all that free time. I mean, there's always work, but that's not very time consuming. I promised myself that I'd work on "Crusader" some this summer, and I have every intention of doing so. I could take on some more tutoring clients, but school's out for the summer. If anyone has any ideas, I'm open to pretty much anything.

But I suppose I should give a look back on the semester. It's been interesting. Invigorating. I have a new drive and passion running through my veins. I haven't felt this way in so long. Challenged, I guess is the proper term. Yes, that's exactly what it is. For the first time for as long as I could remember, I was really challenged by school. Not that it was hard, or I was incapable of the subject matter, but I had to push myself. And it was all me doing the pushing. For someone who's questioned their own ambition, I showed myself capable of doing some pretty good work.

But more than that, I had to reprove myself. I went into an environment where absolutely nobody knew me. Not a soul. I was accepted 5 days before classes started. Mid-year. (I was the only new grad student in the department) Everyone else already knew each other and what kind of work they usually did. And then I show up. I'm a nobody, a mystery. Nobody knows enough about me to either completely dismiss or be in fear of my efforts. I had professors who hadn't heard of me before I entered into their class. I think I had that once in my undergrad history days. And even that lasted only a week. I had professors who saw beyond my thoughts and explanations, and dared to critique my writing. That truly has never happened before. No one has ever done that before. But indeed, week after week, my mechanics were up for question. Though it went against everything I believed in, I started to revise my writing. As Dr. Paskoff told me "There's no reason why a stupid grammatical error should jolt anyone out of your narrative and make them question your full intent.

I learned quite a bit about myself (beyond the Stu and Kris breakdown). That I do indeed respond well under pressure. That I really am that good when I apply myself. That the legends I started as part of the History Mafia were actually grounded in fact. I can do History. I can do academics.

But I don't want to lose that edge. The one thing Dr. Paskoff advised me to do during the summer was to never stop writing. To keep in practice. Not just journal or pleasure writing, but writing for an audience. That's the thing with higher level schooling, it's no longer about showing how smart you are, but rather, it's about how you can make such knowledge presentable. It's too easy to get lofty and full of yourself. By forcing yourself to make your thoughts understandable to all, that's when you truly become genius. Anyone can think really deep thoughts and keep them to themselves. Or to their little braniac conclave. However, expressing those thoughts in a manner that anyone can understand, that's a work of art.

So that's what wise counsel told me to do. And I think I know of a way that can keep me reading and studying. But more importantly, it will keep me writing for an audience. I know it's terrible to have a teaser, but I don't want to name it unless I actually do it.

Never fail a brother

A Missing Relative

2008-04-30T22:31:00.000-07:00

I suppose I'd be remiss if I didn't mention this.

I really don't know how to explain this situation, but I suppose I might as well just say it. On April 14th, my cousin Mark went missing. To be specific, he was my first cousin once removed (my dad's mom was his mom's sister). He's 52, a banker and school board member for Hinds County. Apparently he was last seen driving towards the Home Depot in Clinton. (I went to college in Clinton). He also had heart-surgery like 2 weeks before his disappearance.

Anyway, he drove off to Home Depot and never came back. If not for his heart condition, it looks like he purposefully disappeared. There have been tons of rumors flying around, but none that seem really creditable.

To be honest, I never met the guy. However, his parents, Aunt Joanne and Uncle Frank, lived in the Clinton area looked after me while I was at MC. My thoughts are mainly with them. They're both in their 80s and Uncle Frank doesn't have the best heart. During Katrina, a major concern was making sure that Uncle Frank had some sort of access to air conditioning. We made sure that he did. Anyway, I really just feel for them. They are some of the sweetest and nicest people you will ever meet. Their family has gone through enough anguish over the years, but remained sunny through all of it. (My dad kinda wondered aloud the other day if that side of the family is cursed. And I don't think he was kidding. Murder, bad blood, early deaths, it's pretty much had it all. Aunt Joanne's pretty much the only respectable person to come out of that family) However, I don't think that they could handle the loss of a child.

Anyway, I don't really know what to ask for in this situation. The FBI's involved, and a reward is being offered for any information as to his wearabouts. I mean, I don't know the guy, so I don't have any memories of him. But mainly, I'm concerned for Aunt Joanne and especially Uncle Frank.

I know I've been very tardy in posting this information, but I've got no idea how to address it for everyone to see. I've known of his disappearance for a while, and was able to see a flier offering a reward whilst in Clinton.

Anyway, I suppose that this situation somehow finds a resolution. And mainly that Uncle Frank's heart can handle whatever the outcome.

Never Fail a Brother

With Apologies to Common

2008-04-27T13:14:00.000-07:00

I met this girl when I was 18 years old. And what I loved most about her was that she had so much soul.

I remember the first time I heard her name, sounding all exotic and mysterious. I remember the first time I saw her, and at that moment, I knew that I had to have her in my life. I knew that we had a future together, even then. I knew my life would never be the same, and she was the reason why. I would become a better person because of her. She would change me from a boy into a man.

And so I pursued her. I proved myself worthy. I showed her how much I wanted to be with her. People called me crazy, people questioned my judgment. That I was a fool for going after her. That she wasn't worth it. But I knew she was. Deep down in my core, I knew that we had to be together.

It took weeks of sacrifice, but I showed her how much I cared. And she let me in. She accepted me. I showed her that I was willing to give up everything else just to be with her.

Man, she was an amazing girl. We did everything together. We went to class together, we worked out together, we played together, we served together, we worshiped together. We'd stay up until 3 in the morning, just talking. And then we'd run off to Wal-Mart, acting a fool as we ran through the isles. I know people saw us together, and they talked. But they had to see how much she meant to me. My room was decorated with her stuff. Almost like a shrine to her. There were pictures, and knick-knacks, and gifts. Most of my attire was stuff she picked out. I can't think of a week where I didn't wear one of her shirts. I always let the world know that she was a part of me. She had my heart.

She was stunningly beautiful. Sure, she always looked great whenever we went somewhere fancy. Our overnight trips. Our public social affairs. The times when she put on her best clothes and was the persona for class. But she was just as beautiful with her hair pulled back with a hammer in her hand at a Habitat house. Covered in grime and sweat after spending all day giving for others. In fact, that's when she was most beautiful. I'll never forget that weekend of the hurricane. When we went down to Ocean Springs to clean up. And seeing the devastation, the worst that nature had to offer. Yet surrounded by death and despair, that's when she was at her most refined. Knee deep in flooded siding, caked in mud and sweat. I have never seen anything more beautiful in my life.

Now don't get me wrong, it wasn't always beautiful. We had a relationship. There were times when I was frustrated at her, times when I didn't want to return her calls, times when I swore I was finished with her. But come every Tuesday during our regular date night, she'd show me once more why I fell in love with her in the first place. And why I could never stay mad at her for too long.

Whenever summer came, she was the last person I saw before returning home. And all I could think about during those months was seeing her again. I mean, we kept in contact. We talked on the phone, instant messaged, even drove up for a weekend to see her. But it wasn't the same as just being with her. I pined away, wishing the summer would go faster so I could see her. Every year, I went back a week early, just so I could spent more time with her. And seeing her face light up whenever she saw me for the first time after those months of being away? That's what made it all worth it.

I have learned more things from her. She taught me about leadership, about leading a Godly life. About being the best person you could possibly be. She truly did turn me into a man. I owe so much to her. So much growth came only through her. Even though I wasn't always the best person, or all that thoughtful, she still loved me. And I her.

But we knew it couldn't last forever. I remember having that conversation with her. The knowledge that our time was coming to a close. And I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it. I wanted to live in a fantasy world where we could be together forever. And that's how I acted. I acted as if we would be together, and that life wasn't about to separate us. I was foolish, but I don't think I could have acted any other way.

And then I graduated and moved away. I still talked to her, but the distance was separating us. I could sense it in her voice, things were changing. I'd go up to her see, but it was never the same. But when I came back, all I could think about was her. I went into withdraw. She had been so entwined with my life, I had no idea how to function without her. For a year, I didn't do anything. I was stagnant, I was living in the past.

I remember people telling me about other girls, and how I should give them a chance. How they were so attractive and so worthwhile. I remember looking at them and they all seemed so fake. Like they had painted on their attractive nature and it could all be removed. I went out with a few of them, hating myself all the while. I knew I wasn't cheating on her, but I still felt guilty. I forced myself to listen to them, to half-heartedly go on with their schemes. They wanted the same type of relationship I had with her, but I wasn't willing to give it to them. At the same time, she was still getting more distant. And even though our conversations weren't as cold as they once were, they still weren't as warm as they had been when we were truly together. She'd grown up, and so had I.

But my room was still a shrine to her. All I had was pictures of us together, memorablia of our time. I was still desperately in love with her, even though we weren't together anymore. And that's why I couldn't give my heart to those other girls, cause she already had my heart, as well as the rest of me. Even when I was out with one of the new girls, all I could imagine was being with her. I was used to a classy broad, and all these new girls seemed like tramps. Still, I resigned myself to my new lot and life, and tried to make the best of what was given to me.

I saw her at the funeral, if only for a second. And it made me fall in love with her all over again. Even in grief, she was beautiful. The things she's done for Adam's parents made me proud to have ever known her, let alone be so involved with her. We talked a little, and we promised that we'd see each other very soon.

And then we had this weekend. I was blown away by all the love. It was like all the time had passed, but I was still with her. She told me that she loved me, and that she had never stopped. But more than that, she showed me. She threw her arms around me. She embraced me. She told me that it was okay for me to see other girls, cause she knew she'd always have my heart. In fact, she encouraged me to give my heart to another, because she knew how much I need to be in a relationship in order to function as a human being. She knew life would separate us, but for the fleeting moments that we are together, it will be like no time had passed at all. I'd always have a place to go home to. No matter what life threw my way, she'd always be happy to see me. To be proud of what I've accomplished. She would give me that unconditional love. It gave me a reason to move on.

So at this moment, I've got other girls' numbers. And I'm strongly considering calling them up. There's even one that I think has legitimate beauty. A relationship I could see lasting for a long time. But this time, I won't let my past love stop me. I know I have her blessing. I know the best way I can honor our relationship is to start something amazing with another girl. So out of this love, I will continue on. Because of how much I love this girl. This amazing girl that I still represent and scream her name proudly. The girl who made me into the man I am today.

In case you haven't figured out by now, the girl I'm talking about is Shawreth

Never Fail a Brother.

I Attempt to Detail My Summer Plans

2008-04-22T18:44:00.000-07:00

So it's been a week since I last updated. I wish I had some kick butt reason why, but to be honest, not much has been going on. However, I was pretty sick this weekend and I'm still fighting off the last remnants of the cold.

So it's official, I've only got 2 papers left for the rest of the semester. Granted, one of those is my big paper on "Nuthing But a G Thang," but it's nothing compared to how daunting it all seemed whenever the year began. It's funny, I've always fancied myself a fairly good writer. I mean, I've never had much of a problem writing some fairly lengthy works. And yeah, I did get grades/cash/accolades for them, but it was never that big of a deal to actually write them. Yes, I know I'm usually very long-winded, but the sheer quantity has to speak something. I've had to write more papers this semester than I had to for pretty much all of my first 2 years of college.

And the funny thing it, it's not that big of a deal anymore. A 2 to 3 page paper is actually smaller than nothing. I know my ability, I know my material, and I know my slant on everything. Just looking at all the papers on my flash disc, it's amazing. There's a whole ton of thought there. Even this blog; I'm on my 100th+ post, and it's all some pretty in-depth stuff. Writing is very natural to me now, even more natural then it once was, if that were even possible. I don't even bother activating Paper Mode anymore, it's just so natural, it already flows.

I suppose this sorta ties into this, I have no idea what I'm going to do with all my free time this summer. Yeah, I want to do more volunteer work, maybe get some more tutoring hours in, but for the most part, it's a blank slate. I suppose I could look at working at the library more, but it would probably end up being more trouble than it's worth. It's truly going to be a break, a break I haven't felt was right since I graduated. It felt like my life had no purpose or drive for so long, to have a respite from something that impassions me is actually going to be welcome.

So yeah, here's the meat of this post. And it gets personal. My magnum opus, my work that has mulled over and over in my head more than anything else I've ever thought about, is obviously "Crusader." (I've alluded to it several times before) It encompasses much of what I believe, much that I find hypocritical, all that I deem interesting. I've had this book bouncing around my head for years now. Seven years to be exact. And I've got a lot of notes. A lot of spare chapters. A ton of ideas in my head. The whole book (well, books plural, "Crusader" is actually the first of three) is already written in my head. Heck, it's been written for a while.

The problem is, since there's 7 years of thought, backstory, abandoned ideas, and character development, it's very hard to explain. I've let people know bits and pieces over the years, but no one's ever heard my over-arching vision for it. Except for one time, I've never let anyone in to the full extent of the world I created in my head. Not my parents, not Robbie, not any of my brothers, not any girlfriends or other female people I was interested in and pursuing. Not even Maximus, though I'm sure he'd listen.

And that one time I did attempt to explain it, well, to call it a disaster would be understatement. I rambled on and on for like 3 hours, continually backtracking, reasserting myself, and giving like the most disjointed narrative ever. I wasn't able to express exactly as much as I wanted to orally. There was just too much information in my head to truly lay out in order.

But the funny thing was, he listened. He approved. He thought it had a lot of potential, and asked me to keep him updated on its progress, since he found the idea (at least what he was able glean from my lunatic ravings) fascinating. Even though I continued to develop "Crusader" in my head, I never took him up on his request. I suppose I was too embarrassed. I mean, I looked very stupid, sitting in his dorm room until like 2 in the morning, ranting on and on about this book I'd been working. I mean, even at that time, it seems like I had been working on it for an eternity, and all I had to show for it was a disjointed monologue which still makes no sense in hind-sight.

Well, he's no longer here to hear my progress. Adam was the only guy I ever tried to share the full extent of "Crusader" to. And I think it's time I actually tried to finish it. I mean, for real finish it. I've got tons of free time. Just buckle down, and arrange all the ideas and writings that I already have into the real novel.

It's only fair, he wanted to read the finished product one day. It'd be nice of me to actually produce it.

Never fail a brother

Boring Testimonies

2008-04-15T21:04:00.000-07:00

To be honest, I have no idea what I'm going to be writing right now, but that's never stopped me before. I'll dive into this head first.

So today was the last meeting of my Cultural History seminar. Yeah, Dr. Shindo surprised us with that bit of intel. We were going to have to meet one more time to give presentations, but it turns out that he was unavailable on that date. So instead of rescheduling, he decided simply require us to turn in our papers. (Mine is on a book entitled "Nuthing But a G Thing: Commercialization in Gangsta Rap." That should come as a surprise to no one)

Anyway, after completely tearing apart the merits of Elvis fanaticism, Dr. Shindo took questions about cultural history in general, it being our last class and all. Since that's the area of history I'm most interested in pursuing, I listened attentively as the chronicled the quirks and difficulties of being a cultural historian. One point in particular interested me the most.

It's a common trend in most cultural histories to focus solely on one aspect of culture, and ascribe all sorts of importance and singularity to it. Pretty much all of this lofty praise is undo. For instance, we read a book that placed comic books at the forefront of Civil Rights and anti-War movements. I mean, I don't doubt their effect on the youth culture, as well as their ability speak directly to our heroic ideals. But to claim that Martin Luther King Jr. was able to find success in calling for Civil Rights only because Spider-Man once had a black guy in the fifth panel of issue #37 is a bit far-fetched. But there's tons of these books out there, each claiming that their aspect of culture was either the first or the most important.

Dr. Shindo supposed that this glut of scholarship was based on a desire for significance. It's hard to justify focusing so much of your time and effort on a subject if you freely admit that it wasn't a dominate factor in something major. While it might be easier and fun to make your argument seem big and total, in reality, you can make a much more convincing argument if you argue for its ambiguity. By making big, bold leaps, you make it all the easier to strike down. All it takes for something to completely dismiss your radical view on comic books (since that's what I already mentioned) is a simple "That's not how I see it." If you are arguing for a solitary message in whatever cultural medium, you're opening yourself up for major accurate attacks since people view the substance differently.

What's much more effective, is to argue for your medium as responsible for smaller changes, taking into account different interpretations. It's hard to prove that an aspect of culture made one big change possible. However, if you show how it caused lots of people to move in different ways and make multiple, smaller changes, you can better prove its revolutionary worth. By saying that comic books made people think in a different manner about their world and then acted upon it, you've made a much better case than stating that Spider-Man is the reason MLK had a responsive audience.

Oddly enough, it got me thinking about religion, testimonies in particular. Now I'm not doubting God's ability to make major changes in people's lives. I know plenty of people who have been delivered from some big-time stuff, but to be honest, I'm not one of them. I mean, to be frank, my testimony is pretty boring. I grew up in the church, never got into too much trouble. Never did drugs or had any desire to do so. Never engaged in premarital sex and kept those desires fairly under control. I've never been in prison, nor had any reason to be in trouble with the law. I mean, I became a Christian at a fairly young age. I've known Jesus is my savior for quite a while now.

But sometimes, I feel sort of guilty about it. I mean, I don't have the dramatic conversion story. I don't have a season in my life where I completely submitted myself to some outside force. Religion and God has always been a major part of my life. Even when I wasn't placing God first, he was never too far down the line. If anything, what God's had to save me from is myself, on multiple occasions. I've documented my most recent cleansing of my soul from selfish desires. In pretty much all those things, it wasn't something outside of my control. Rather, it was my own pride and vanity. I am truly my own worst enemy.

And that's where I sort of fall into that trap. If I were to explain to a non-believer what all God's meant in my life, I'd be hard-pressed to find a dramatic example. He's pretty much been responsible for a lot of little changes in my life. Now don't get me wrong, all those strongholds being shattered were a big deal to knock down, but to an outsider, it all seems rather petty.

But that's when what Dr. Shindo said clicked. Even though dramatic conversions do exist, and thank God for them, they are often hard to prove or be taken seriously. While we know what effect that Jesus has had in our own lives, since it's the basis of our faith, to others, they simply don't know. Nor can they. All they see is the person before them now. They don't see the years of hurt and pain, and how dramatic the change was. However, by being honest and frank, and just showing the little changes in our own lives, it's much harder for a non-believer to disprove. While they might not believe "God delivered me from a life of crime all in one night," even though it is true since you lived it, "I've been worked on for a while now. God's had to make some slow changes in me in regards to my vanity and arrogance, but I'm a better person for it" is much more likely to accepted.

While people might believe that a major dramatic conversion is necessary to show the sheer power of Christ, in reality a slow process can be just as effective. I don't know why, but that gives me hope. Being able to offer my whole life as a testimony, warts and all, as just as much merit as an exciting road to Damascus instance. While such testimonies show the power and might of God, a testimony such as my own shows God's everlasting perseverance. And that he never gives up on me, even when I tell him to get lost. And that I always seem to come back to him, even when I tell him to get lost. Much like cultural history theses are more viable when they show the complexity of the relationship between medium and its audience, so can our testimonies be when they don't limit God to a single overpowering moment.

Wow, that's not too shabby for having no idea what I was going to write and just letting it flow from the keyboard.

Never Fail a Brother

St. Elvis

2008-04-12T22:09:00.000-07:00

So I'm having to read this book, "Elvis Culture" for seminar. I'm also going to have to write a paper on it. Fun city.

Actually, it's a pretty good book. The author claims that just the image of Elvis, a true "icon" if you will, has become a predominate factor in people's lives. Elvis has become much more than a man, he's almost the center of a charismatic religion. She writes that Elvis has become a major icon for religion, sexuality, and race. It's not who Elvis actually was, but rather what his image has become. Not for the man who lived and died, but for what he represented. It's a pretty good case study on how a person can become not just an emblem for the counter-culture, but for a massive movement as well.

But what I found really interesting was the religious fanaticism people felt for Elvis. There are "true believers" out there, who honestly and truly believe that Elvis was on a higher spiritual plane. Not quite that he's on the level with God and Jesus, but that he's a very close second. Like he was honestly picked by God to be a special messenger. A medium between which human beings could better see God. They find that the messages spread in the media about Elvis' drug habits and whatnot are all a pack of lies. Only they are the keepers of the truth. Elvis didn't die of a drug overdose, it was an enlarged heart. And all those drugs they found in his system were because of all the stress of performing. Elvis died for us, we were the ones that pushed him to far. All he ever wanted to do was sing songs and make us happy, but he simply just cared to much. Forget about Priscilla or Lisa Marie, they weren't good enough for the King.

These people simply cannot let a man be a man. Yes, Elvis meant a lot to a lot of people, but he was still a man. Though he might have been a symbol for all sorts of causes, he was still a dude. But they've truly turned him into a religious faith. I mean, in the truest sense. They believe Elvis was sent by God to spread His message. And we listened to him, but didn't understand what he really meant. Because we didn't believe in the purity of his message, that's why he died. We were the ones that killed him.

Wow. Just wow. I mean, wow. I don't know where to start. I guess it really shows how desperate people are for something to believe in greater than themselves. Because Elvis was such a larger-than-life personality, people began to see his as a hope outside their own existence. They could find the life they never had for themselves in emulating Elvis. But dressing and moving like he did, they found identity and acceptance.

But I was really struck by two things. First, people have different visions of what all Elvis represented. In particular, her chapter on Elvis' sex appeal demonstrates this fact. There are so many views on Elvis as a romantic interest. Some women saw him as the ultimate compassionate lover, promising to "love them tender." Others saw him as the defiant hip-shaker, raw and primal lust. Elvis was the ideal lover of so many. Men wanted to be like him in order to get the girls, and women wanted to loved by him. He had mass appeal. In reality, what Elvis was more like a mirror, people saw in him what they wanted to see in themselves. People who wanted to be "loved tender" saw that, people wanting animal lust saw that. Universal appeal at its finest.

The second thing that I noticed was how devout these people were in their Christianity. I mean, it wasn't like they worshiped Elvis alone (and they are certainly worshiping Elvis. I mean, he's elevated to the level of a Saint in the Catholic tradition. Someone who can intercede to God on your behalf) but they also are crazy about Jesus. It's not to find a shrine of Jesus right next to the crushed velvet picture of Elvis. I mean, these people are hardcore going to church Sunday, but the rest of the week, they're living in an Elvis temple. And I know there's always kooks who really believe Elvis is divine, but the majority are really zealous Christians.

The only thing I can really compare this to is how some people get about their pastors. Like they're these spiritual supermen who embody faith at its fullest. Now no slight to pastor's but they're still men. I mean, some of my best friends are pastors or in seminary. And trust me, they are just as human as their parishioners. But a lot of people put their faith in God through the lens of their pastor. I'm reminded of the 1980s televangelist scandals, and how a lot of people felt very betrayed. Almost as if their faith wasn't in God, but the guy talking to them through the television. They felt personally betrayed by someone they never even met. I mean, Jim Bakker didn't meet his entire audience. Jimmy Swaggart didn't know a fraction of the people that had their faith shaken by his exploits. How can you be wronged by someone you don't know? I'd rather have faith in unfailable God than a human being. I'm not denying that the vast majority preachers are good men with honorable intents, but they're still men. Their purpose is for their lives to become a vessel in which God is presented. When people start putting their faith into the man, rather than the one he's trying to present, that's when people get hurt.

How can you really feel so strongly about someone you don't really know? This connection people have to Elvis or televangelist is pretty much infatuation. It's a crush. 99.9% of all Elvis fans never knew the man. Those that really know him are not believers in his divine nature. Rather they saw him as a human being, a man. A husband, a father, a son, a friend. While the fans might see this demi-god, a Saint, a love machine, they aren't getting the real picture, just what they wished in their own lives. It wasn't truly something greater than themselves, it was just an image.

It's funny, Jesus gives us a chance to personally know him. To not just have a one way infatuation, but a relationship. The deepest relationship you'll ever have, it has no end to depth. It truly is greater than ourselves. And yet, people are content to bypass this chance in order to place all their hopes in a rock and roll singer. A man who was the product of selling his image in order to make some money. It doesn't have to be Elvis, people place the majority of their faith in all sorts of pursuits. For money, for career, for family. And all of those things are nice, but it's just an infatuation, a pretend relationship. It's both heart-breaking and amusing.

Oh well, I've still got to write a paper on it.

Never fail a brother

The List Rethought

2008-04-11T12:17:00.000-07:00

This will be my 100th Post. Wow. I never thought I would write this much in both content and volume without the promise of a grade or finanical gain. It doesn't feel like that long, but I suppose my backlog says otherwise.

Last night at the Hub, Mike Haman gave an interesting sermon on relationships. And you know what I mean by relationships, the boy/girl type. He made some fairly good points, such as the fact that you shouldn't expect your boy/girlfriend to cover your own lackings. Once you can recongize yourself as a complete individual, that's when you're truly ready to take on another's life as your own. Marriage is supposed to be between two equals that decide to intertwine their lives together, not because you think your life is incomplete without a man. I suppose it's losing your life to save it. Once you accept the fact that you don't need someone else in order to complete your being, that's when God usually puts that person into your life.

Anyway, in light of my recent evaultion of my entire life, the sermon got me thinking about my dating past, as well as my dating future. I don't believe in "The One" (Long story. Basically, that implies that someone out there in the world is perfect, and that your life together will be peachy keen. However, any relationship takes work, particulary marriage. I'm not so naive that I believe being married to some is going to be easy. Let's be real here, no one ever marries with the intent of getting divorced. Rather, the ones who are able to have their marriage thrive and prosper are the ones that are committed, no matter what the circumstance. It's hard work, but I'm sure that it's worthwhile. I can't really say, I've never been married). However, I sorta think that God has placed people out there that are more suitable than others. And he might keep throwing them in your way until you finally realize that this person is worth paying attention to. I don't believe in love at first sight, but I think you generally have a pretty good idea about your future with a person only after a little while. Yes, it's going to be difficult sometimes, but I'd like to think that it's going to be worth it in the end.

Anyway, a point Haman made was that you should know what you won't settle for. I strongly agree. I mean, I was like that with careers for a while (still am). I have no idea what I want to be "when I grow up" but I have a long list of things I don't want to be. I know some people get really particular whenever they're asking God for a future mate. Even getting down to hair color and height. To be frank, that sort of exterior stuff doesn't interest me too much. I don't want to be particular, I'd rather be surprised.

That being said, I think it's time to readdress something that I've had for a while. The List. Yes, that list. I don't remember exactly when the list started, but I've always had it. I remember when I actually wrote it down, but it wasn't new thought. The List is basically what I'm interested in/looking for in potential female mates. I wrote that bad boy down, and it's been my standard ever sense.

However, considering my recent...whatever you want to call it...I thought that it might be apt for me to update said list. Get rid of the judgmental things, and show why a lot of it came from selfish desires.

Anyway, The List (with new commentary. I kept the initial explanations. New thoughts in italics):

THE LIST

1. This is non-negtoable. They must be spiritually sound and growing. I do not want to be "unequally yoked" as the Bible puts it. This has not, and never will change. I can understand a past, I mean, we've all got one. And I'm not about comdemning what people did before they came to know God. But you have to know him. I'm not about to cripple my life just because I think this new girl is nice, but not a strict "Christian." More trouble than it's worth.

2. Personality- you gotta have a good one. I want someone I can talk to, joke around with, etc. I suppose this is fair inoffensive.

3. Brains- Must be able to debate on different issues. Also have their own interests and subjects that they excel in. I do not want a stupid bimbo. I think this could be contruded as a tad harsh. Possibly I just want a debate partner who won't get super mad at me. To have a further commitment that would prevent getting mad for petty issues. Also, this is pretty hard against those who don't have higher education. No degree, I won't talk to you to begin with. Technical school? Just as bad. Community College? Even worse. Yeah, this has a selfish intent behind it.

4. Looks- Must look better than me, which isn't all that hard. I downplayed this, but I certainly have a type. Not as important as looks or personality, but I still think of very highly. To be honest, this is more about showing her off to others. A status symbol. Her looks are for others benefit so they'd think higer of me. Man, I was a jerk.

5. Like animals- I am planning on having dogs, so they better be cool with that. I really like "Maximus" and other doggies. Nothing really selfish or self-serving here other than a preference.

6. Be career-minded- If I am able to provide for the both of us and any kids by myself, so much the better. However, in the event that such circumstances do not occur, she needs to be ready to have a job. I do not think that staying at home to be a mom should be expected or demanded. It is a luxury if we can afford it. I suppose this is part of my desire for a status symbol. Only having one income could put a damper on material gains. Instead of working harder or whatever to provide for my future family, I'd rather force her to take on job, even if she doesn't want it.

7. Tolerate my interests- I am not expected her to throw herself full into whatever I like. Likewise, I am pretty sure I won't be going crazy for all that she likes. However, she needs to be able to appreciate what I like about those things, and me hers. Part of my rejection of traditional roles of women. I find it annoying whenever someone starts dating and their personality becomes engulfed in another. I mean, they aren't even married, and yet they've got this couple mentality. I'd rather have little quirks and stuff that are different. Not major differences in religion or something, but small things. I dunno, it's just me.

8. Not be so gung-ho for kids right out the gate- I want kids, EVENTUALLY. I am in no hurry. I often joke that children are the worst STD, I don't really mean that, but they aren't far off. I do not want to bring another human being into this world unless I can afford them both finanically and mentally. Do I hate children? No. Are they cute? Yes. Do I want some ever? Yes. Do I want some within the first year of being married? No. It's irresponsible to produce children just for the sake of making children.

9. Does not want to do everything for me- I can do my own laundry. I wash my own dishes. I can iron a shirt. I can cook a rather nice meal. I am not helpless in the domestic area. You guessed it, my rejection of "tradtional womanly roles." I suppose I could use all sorts of sociological terms for my mindset, but that's another post. I just find it annoying when a guy gets married, he becomes an infant in his doings. I'd also rather be the one doing the service than being the one that gets served. I dunno, a rejection of entitlement?

10. Sexually pure- I know we all make mistakes, but I'd rather this not be one of them. Same goes with coming into the marriage with kids. This one has changed a lot. This used be a really big deal for me. Partly status symbol and part self-doubt. Not everyone has had the same background as me. The status symbol thing is hard to understand, but I'll try to explain. In my past relationships, I was tempted to go further than we ought to, but I never did. Maybe a part of it was to remain faithful to my future wife, even before marriage. But most of it was for the esteem of others. A chance to say "Look at me! I can control myself! And look how hot she is!" And I suppose that it sorta rubbed of on my perceptions of her. Like her virginity was a status symbol, like I won it and it was mine alone to take. My supposed "self-control" was really a chance to brag to others. Yeah, it all sounds strange once I put it in words, but that's how I felt. However, I still won't change on the "no kids" part. I can't get over that. Single mothers are wonderful people, but I will never get involved.

11. Knows the difference between a Lil Jon and Neptunes beat just by hearing a few seconds of a track- Cause that would be wicked sweet. This is a joke. However, music is very important to me. It's a major part of my background, along with blindness. If she could understand my elitism in music, that'd be nice.

12. Gives me my privacy and space whenever I need it- I do not like clingy. No. That's bad. There are sometimes when it is best for you not to be around me, and usually it's for your own good. You know, it looks like I could just put down, "Don't want traditional woman" and most of these numbers would be combined. Still, I'm not a fan of clingyness. Particularly PDA. I mean, seriously, it's like riding one of those coinslot carosels in front of the grocery store when you're over the age of 10. You might be having a great time, but everyone watching is just wishing you'd grow up. Another part of this is my whole fake persona, like I need her to go away so she couldn't see my real self. I guess a part of me is afraid of being that open and honest with a person. To not have the chance to lie to them, or fake it. Yeah, that scares me more than I could admit.

13. Wouldn't mind living elsewhere- My home will always be Baton Rouge, no matter where I live. However, I know that my future probably lies in another state. She needs to be cool with that fact and not demand to stay where she grew up or whatever. Or another country for that matter. I'm fairly content wherever I am locationally (Just give me something to write on and I'm happy as a clam). I have chosen a rather unconventional career path, one that has much uncertainy as to the future. She best be cool with uncertainty

14. Be cool with the family- Both hers and mine. George and Bev are some really nice people, but they still need to be tolerated at Christmas. Same goes with my brother, sister, and extended family. I would also like for her to be on speaking terms with both her parents. I do not want the holidays to be a game of "Don't talk to her." Family is pretty important to me. I mean, I like my family, even those there's an element I can't stand for too long. But still, if her family life has been hell, I'd like for her to be accepting of mine.

15. Romance- I guess we need to have that. Granted, I am not the most romantic person, but I try, I think. I guess an explanation is in order. My defintion of romance is as follows: (get ready, it's long)
One of my favorite movies is "Casablanca." It has an incredible script and some of the best charcters ever put on film. At the end of the movie, Rick has to tell Elsa, the woman that he loves, to get on a plane with her husband and never look back. Though the love they had for each other is intense and growing, Rick relizes that she would be better off with her husband simply because they (Rick and Elsa) fell in love in Paris those many years ago under false pretenses. That fact coupled with Rick being proven to be a sucker for lost causes (The young couple and French national anthem, quite possibly the greatest scene in film, prove Rick's feelings) result in Rick telling Elsa that she must get on the plane before she regrets it for the rest of her life. I feel that that is romance, the giving of yourself for the better of the one you love. Even though Rick could of easily told her to stay with him, he gave up that desire so she could live a better life outside of Casablanca with the man she orignally loved. That might not make much sense unless you saw the movie. So if you haven't, SEE THE DANG MOVIE. I don't really know what romance is. I thought I did. I thought I was able to pursue it. I think I lied convincingly enough to her and myself for quite a long time. Yet I've begun to realize, as cliche as it sounds, that unless God's in the picture, it means nothing. I suppose that's where all my previous relationships faltered. God was an element, but he wasn't the central one. We never made spiritual growth a goal together, more like something that we're supposed to take care of on our own. Don't get me wrong, our personal relationships are still chiefly our responsiblity, but I missed out on so much. Going to church was a social thing, a chance to be seen together, not growth. We never got that involved in each other's prayer life, except for blessing the food occasionally. Those elements could have made life so much richer, but I chose not to do them.

I guess I was afraid in the past. Afraid of letting someone know me that well. To be so raw and exposed, naked really. To have no place to hide, no mask to hide behind, just the honest truth. It's frightening. And yet, I've learned from my mistakes. Though my initial intent for the items on the list might not have been the most respectable, they aren't bad criteria. Nothing in of itself is shameful or jerky. It's funny, I wouldn't have a problem with someone being so open and honest with but, but to return it was frightening. Now, heck, I probably wouldn't mind. It feels like I'm sharing everything in my life to the whole internet, what's one person in real life.

Never Fail A Brother

Until It Becomes Real

2008-04-10T11:13:00.000-07:00

It's been two weeks. And for once, it actually feels like that long. I mean, that length of time. For a while, my entire life was a daze, it felt like one big long terrible day. But now I've gotten a feeling of distance. Though it still hurts, it's in the past now. I suppose it's hard to define/explain. But now there's a feeling of time, a dulling if you will. It's not as immediate as it once was. It's not a sharp, crippling pain anymore, I guess it's more of a manageable pain. I can put it out of my mind. I can actually do other things. I can semi-care about school and other stuff again. Topics such as politics, history, and other pursuits are slowly regaining their appeal.

An odd source of encouragement to me lately is the idea that you can fake something until it becomes really. You can force your mind to think in a certain manner until it becomes genuine. Strangely enough, the lyric that keeps running through my mind is from "Dreamgirls," where Eddie Murphy's character of James 'Thunder' Early makes the declaration that "you can fake your way to the top." No one's ever 100% sure of how they're feeling, but if you pretend that you do, you're ahead of the curve. Another random quote, "Your focus determines your reality."

This totally came into play yesterday. I was at work, still mentally dealing with the current situation, as well as the fact that I had a number of papers due today that I was yet to write. I got antsy as well as depressed. A bad cocktail if there ever was one. However, I couldn't change the fact that I had several hours left in my shift, and all the work wasn't going anywhere. So I decided to fake being extra cheery to the patrons checking out. Make more conversation than usual, give out a lot more stickers to the kids than normal, be more thorough. So I did. And it started out as an effort. But strangely enough, as I started to act like I was the happiest, friendliest librarian around, I actually became that way. I was genuinely in a pleasant mood. I actually did lighten up people's day. Even though we were doing our last day of free tax prep and everyone was in a bad mood, I truly made people smile. I mean, it's just stickers and commenting on the books they read. But it meant something.

So that's what I'm faced with right now. I've got seminar in about an hour and I have to participate in the discussion. Do I really care about the subject matter (In this case, the triumph of Conservatism from 1900-1916)? No. Can I pretend like I do? With the best of them. Will my fake enthusaism eventually become real? That's what I'm hoping for.

And with that, I'm off to read the last 100 pages. Hopefully this gamble will pay off. I've got too much depending on my efforts.

Never Fail a Brother

Edit-
Yeah, I really need to clarify this post. In no way am I suggesting that I'm going back to any one of the old personas. Rather, I have promises I have to keep. I can't let my grief shut down my entire life. Instead, I'm trying to segment it, still deal with it, but not let it consume me. School's a prime example. While I'm in class, I force myself to pay attention and be engrossed in the material. I'm still a student. I'm still getting my master's. I'm still insightful and quick. Just because I'm reeling which a lost, I'm not about to sacrifice my academic career. As cliche as it sounds, Adam wouldn't have wanted that. Probably one of the best ways I can honor his memory is by being as true to myself as a student as I possibly can. It's not like I'm faking a new interest in the subject, I've always loved history and politics, and to a lesser extent, economics. Just because I'm not naturally interested in them right now, doesn't mean I should sabatoge my future. As much as I've been broken down to my core lately, I'm still a student. Learning and the pursuit of knowledge is still my first love. Maybe this is a more pure form of it, who knows. This is not forcing a new artifical interest or persona, rather, it's a conscious decision on my part to reclaim the stuff I know to be true, in spite of the fact that I temporarily don't feel it at the moment.

Yeah, I know it's a very thin line, but it makes all the difference. The only thing fake about my scholarly efforts right now is that I'm forcing myself to do what normally comes naturally. "Focus determines your reality" and all that. It's like I'm relearning what I loved about in the first place.

Great, now it looks like I'm going on a tangent here. Who cares, I'll run with it. This aspect of my life/the "Kris" persona has been weighing on me heavily lately. I love to debate. I honestly do. Any topic, any time, I can argue simply on the joy of the argument. However, I realize that I started to care too much about winning. To me, a debate is not a bad thing. It airs out legit issues. However, in an actual debate where people believe their sides strongly, minds are never changed. Rather, you leave believing more in your convictions stronger than you did before. That's why I never have a problem debating serious spiritual issues; they're never disproven, they're just made stronger.

But that's when I went astray, I became too in love with the fight. Like a former champion boxer who becomes punch-drunk, looking for fights in back alleys. I didn't face off against equals, or follow any set rules, I just had to win. I baited people. Good decent church people that I knew were weaker spiritually, or in a time of crisis. And why? So I could slam their already fragile faith to the ground? So I could crush them simply because I enjoyed the feeling? There is no honor in defeating an unworthy opponent. I know that sounds very egotisical, but you've got to remember, this was like verbal bullying. Instead of having compassion or listening to their perplexed faith, I instead chose to go town on them with my words. I wouldn't call them 'hateful' per se, more like condescending. Make them look and feel stupid.

I shouldn't be doing that. I've got a gift and a desire, and I'm wasting on those who need my defense, not my opposition. I should be speaking on their behalf, combating those who are squashing them down, not add dismissive arrogance to the pile. I should challenge those that are my spiritual equals, strengthening their faith, not use my ability only to break down.

So in essence, the Kris is reborn. But this time, I will use my words for good, not idle boredom. Great good can come from my love of debate, but only if I practice withholding.

Anyway, back on point. I'm still relearning who I am, and if I have to force myself to do things that I know are true, in order for them to actually become true, I have no problem with it. I must reiterate that I'm NOT faking everything or creating a new persona

Love and Trust

2008-04-08T11:30:00.000-07:00

Well, after my last heart-wrenching post, I'm glad to say that things are looking up.

I'm not going to lie, it's not like things are magically better. It's a gradual process. I feel like I'm relearning everything I've ever known. Things that I used to take for granted are now novel and new. A good hunk of this is getting to truly know myself better. Because I directly dealt with everything wrong in my life, I'm able to focus on the stuff that's somewhat redeeming. Build on top of the good things in my life. It's a process, and it might take a while.

I'm still grieving, but even that's becoming a little easier. Two nights ago, I had my first decent night of sleep. It was interesting, I've had nothing but disturbing and irrational dreams. Not nightmares per se, but fearful and guilty dreams. Of course my thoughts are often about Adam, but that taint of his death is falling down a little bit. Pretty much every memory I had of him, and my dreams as well, were filtered through the lens of him no longer being here. I mean, everything boiled down to his death. But since that night...it's hard to explain, but I'm going to try anyway.

It didn't start out as a good dream. I looked out my kitchen window, and there he was. He was in a bad car accident, very bloody and battered, and I knew he was dying. A part of me didn't want to see him suffer like that, and I wanted to ignore him. But something made me go to him, and be with as he passed on. As soon as I acknowledged his impending mortality, everything changed. I don't know where we were, but it was a safe place. He was whole again. We talked like we used to, back when life was much simpler and nothing was wrong. I can't really explain it, but things were normal again. My dreams of him were no longer about his death, instead they were about our friendship. Though there was finality, we were both at peace. I can't really explain or understand it, but there was peace. I truly got rest. Since then, I've had an extreme peace about everything.

I'm not one to put too much stock in dreams, just the idle ramblings of your mind. But something about that dream changed everything. I suppose by accepting Adam's death the same way I accepted by own short-comings, I was able to truly move on. To get over all the feelings of guilt and shame, and get back to what's really important, our relationship. It's still hard, but I can focus solely on the good times, and they were numerous. And though it pains me to say it since he's no longer alive to return it, because I know he did, I truly loved him. It was beyond fraternal or friendly love, it was real love. I don't pretend to know when it started, or why it occurred, all I know is that it did, and I'm a better person for it.

All I've got left in my life now is love and trust. I trust that things are going to get better, and that all this is for a reason. I trust that there will be some sort of blessing in this time of trial. I trust that God's going to do something, anything really, because to have this all happen in vain would be too cruel. I might have once pretended to know all the answers, but now I know I don't. Still, it doesn't stop me from blindly trusting. I mean, I have no other idea as to what to do. But even above blind trust, I've got raw love. Love for my friends, even the ones I used to be ashamed to claim. I've got love for my brothers, even though I've failed them more times than I care to mention. I've got love for my family, both the one I was born into, and the one that was made through choice. I've got love for God, even though I don't understand his methods, or why he could let such a horrible thing happen. It's this love that really gives me hope, and a reason to go on trusting in the first place.

Never fail a brother

(P.S. I've stopped using my "Well, Laters" sign off. It always seemed too dismissive and chagrin. So I'm going to try out this new one)

The Rawest, Most Honest I've Ever Been

2008-04-04T13:04:00.000-07:00

I'm going to be completely honest here. I'm going to drop all manner of pretense. I've been shaken beyond my core. Everything I've ever held dear is worthless. Things that used to be a source of pride are now shameful. I can try to go through the motions, to act like all is well in spite of the circumstance, but it turns to ashes in my mouth. It feels fake. The way I'm supposed to act, of how I'm perceived to be viewed, is a lie. All that I've got right now is exposed nerves. In that vein, I'm going to lay all my cards down on the table.

I've really been struggling lately with my identity. It sounds strange, but I've seriously rethought my entire life. I've wondered when I'll be able to get over all this grief, and get back to my "old self." Just to have things return to normal. It won't. But more importantly, do I want to go back to my "old self"? Is there anything worth salvaging?

Like I said, I'm going to be honest here. I don't care what anyone thinks. I just need to get this out. I know this is going to make me sound irrational, but I don't care. Over the past year or so, I've really struggled with two halves of my personality. For lack of a better term, I'm going to call them the "Stu" and "Kris" sides. I'll describe them and their inherent dilemma.

The first is the "Stu" side. Stu is pretty laid back and accepting. He slums it hard. He doesn't care about the inferiority of his surroundings. Or that he's used and deserves better. He takes vicarious pleasure in living under his full potential. He associates with persons he ought not to. People who are not just weaker spiritually, but not of the same caliber. He's lost his drive. He tolerates the rantings of losers. He has no discernment, willing to associate with anyone. Though he ought to be growing and becoming a better person, he'll just wallow in the scum of the earth. Life doesn't have a meaning or any further purpose, it's just daily rejection of promise. Apathy is a key word here. He'll pretend to listen and care, but honestly, it's just cause he's lost all self-respect. Even though he's used to a steak-level of life, he's more than happy to lick dirt off the floor.

At the same time, there exists the "Kris" personality, which has been overtaken by the "Stu" side as of late. Ah, the Kris. The Kris is witty, highly intelligent, and out-spoken. He's the guy who relished in pride, the one who was driven to be the best and the brightest he could possibly be. He's the one of insatiable appetites. For women, for knowledge, for entertainment, he cannot be satisfied. For the select group that he cares about, he's highly devoted and will do anything for them. He's very image conscious, careful to create an elaborate facade. He relishes in proving his value over anyone. There is no one above him. Pride to the excess. He enjoys being an intellectual bully, destroying anyone who comes in his path. He's confrontation, willing to debate any topic, any side, just for the sake of the argument. Life is a game for him, and he knows how to win and doesn't care how he accomplishes it. He is astute, condescending, but above all charming. Still, he doesn't let anyone see his true feelings. Though he truly cares about only a few, he's never able to express it. He is elitist, unless you are on the same level as him intellectually, financially, and socially, he won't talk to you. Or if he does, it's only to get ammunition to mock you as soon as you leave the room. Incredibly selfish, he will only give to others if it aids him.

I've got to stop saying "he," I'm talking about myself. I done some reprehensible things. I have destroyed egos just for my idle amusement. Even though I had someone hopelessly devoted to me, I never told her that I loved her back and I actively pursued someone else, just because I wanted more. I lied to her, telling her that we had a future, a good future that I squandered simply because I was afraid of commitment. I objectify people, I'm not friends with someone for the sake of friendship, but how it will make me look in order to move socially upwards. If I don't immediately see a benefit in a person, I will never associate with them. All my drive, all my knowledge, all my awards, it's just been for the esteem of others. I don't really know what I like anymore, it's all for ease. Though I could have easily had a worthwhile degree and made something of my life, I decided to take the easy route. I didn't want to study, I don't want to work. It's too hard and boring. I want entertainment, and unless I'm amused, I won't do it. It's all about building a resume, gaining the trophies. To the friends and brothers that I have, I love them all, I honestly do. But I'm not taking applications for more. Instead of proving my worth, others have to prove their worth to me, so they might be honored by my presence.

I'm on a roll now. I've never been challenged by anything in my whole life, ever. Either I took the easy way out, or it just came natural. I've seen others work, and toil, and scrape by, but because I've been blessed with a little more cash and brain power, I deem them worthless. Everything is an act. The person that I've cultivated, the person that I've formed, all of that, is nothing but a game. That's all it is. I have no interests, I have no life, I have no desires, I just want to win. Above all, I have to win. Or more importantly, I will not lose. I Will Not Lose. I don't allow myself to lose. Even if it takes dirty tricks, and ruining the lives of others, I will not lose.

But all that's a lie. These two sides of myself are locked in battle. The "Stu" vs. the "Kris." Type A vs. Type B. Self-respect vs. slumming it. And I've lived this battle for too long.

This ends right now. Stu is dead. The Kris is dead. My entire life is dead. My past is dead. Gone. Neither of those individuals can be allowed to remain alive. What I'm getting now is a moment of defiance. A moment of clarity. A rebirth.

I've often wondered which side should win out. What would I eventually embrace. My answer is clear. While both Stu and Kris were terrible people, they still had their (admittedly few) good aspects. It's not an either/or question, it's an none/both. The answer is not one or the other, but "yes."

So in this moment, Stu and Kris are dead. The old me's are gone. In their places is a both. A true "Studakris," if you will. Gleaning what little good was there and trusting that the rest will grow. I close with these two sayings. The first is from Five Iron Frenzy's "Eulogy": "If Jesus Christ is true, then I am mostly lies. If Jesus Christ is love, then I have failed to try. If Jesus Christ is life, then please, just let me die. Let. This. Die."

And finally, my traditional taunt, which now means more than it ever has: "My name...is Stuart Lucas Tully! Son of George, son of George, son of Omega, son of William, son of Lovie! A devoted member of the Shawreth Order! Brother to two biologically, and scores more fraternally! Look upon my works ye mighty and despair! Prepare thyself, for you are in the presence of the Kris! The History Pimp! The intellectual heterosexual! You are no match!"

I know it sounds arrogant, but right now, it's defiance. I'm standing against all that's wrong in my life. In service to God, I commit myself to strive for excellence. I commit myself to the three tenets of the Shawreth Order. In devotion, I will serve my brothers and my fellow man. With perseverance, I will seek the will of God. I will strive for academic excellence, to bring honor to God and Shawreth. I will never fail a brother! In service to God, I commit myself to strive for excellence. I am a Shawreth!

May I one day prove worthy of those knowing those words.

Never fail a brother.

Immortal Brothers

2008-04-03T11:15:00.001-07:00

So I wouldn't say that it's been getting better, but it's getting a little easier. I've resigned myself to the fact that this whole process is going to take a while. Also, I've decided that it's probably better to just deal with it now instead of repressing it.

It makes you feel like a phony, you know? People try to give you encouragement, and tell you that "you're a good guy" or something like that. I don't feel like a good guy, I feel like a jerk. I've had to take a good hard look at my life, and frankly, there's quite a bit in there that isn't all the appealing. It'd be so easy to just fake it, you know? To just pretend that everything's alright. That Adam is just a couple of states over. And I could visit him anytime I'd like, but we've got our own lives now and we're busy. No slight against our friendship, but time goes on. I could do that, and I'd hazzard to guess that I'd do a fairly convincing job. But I'd always know that I'm a fake. I suppose it's part of the whole feeling that life doesn't feel real anymore. Real life is a fantasy right now. Like I could just wake up, or walk out of the theater. I go through the motions, go to class, go to church, go to work. Put on a face, play my role. I'm just another actor reading my lines. Like I'm stuck in an improv skit that doesn't want to end. It'd be nice to pretend to care about stupid garbage again. I mean, I long to act like Populism and the Scopes Monkey trial are important. I remember back when they were all I could care about. But now, it just hollow.

What keeps me going? Honestly, I have no idea. I'm not sleeping, I'm not eating, I'm not really that great of company either. I'm normally a fun guy to be around, but not right now. We had a debate today in class, and I barely talked. I don't really know what Stu truly is right now. Is there an old status quo? Have I fundamentally changed as a person? I know that I'll eventually be able to get over this and time heals all wounds. But man, how long is this going to take? I'd like to have some sort of time table for my own benefit. To know that after a certain date, I can start living life again.

I know it's cliche, but love's a lot of what keeps me going. Love for Adam, but also love for my brothers. I've been able to talk to more guys in the past week than I'd been able to do in a while. It's a lot of Shawreth, but a lot of it, in my mind, is for the Immortals. I always knew that the guys I rushed with and spent all 4 years with would mean the most, now I get to see this in action. We truly were a varied bunch, people who ordinarily wouldn't talk to each other, let alone be friends. But now, we're more than that. The term "brothers" is understatement, but it's the best term that expresses the depth. There is more giving going on now that I've seen in a while.

Jeez it hurts to write this.

Well, Laters

Learning to Live Again

2008-04-01T11:31:00.000-07:00

I trying my best to focus on school today, but it's a losing battle. I mean, I want to concentrate and do well, but it's hard. I never thought this would be so draining. I can try not to dwell on it, or get my mind on something else, but I can't. I'm exhausted, I want rest. I want to be able to get some temporary respite from all the emotion.

I'm glad for the good times, and I'm also kinda glad that it hurts this bad. Not like I'm sadistic or anything, but it's reassuring to know that someone meant that much to you. That it hurts so bad right now just proves the extent of love. It reaffirms things.

Honestly, I don't know what to think. A part of me knows all the stages of grief, and what I'm going through is natural. It's normal to have these irrational thoughts, death is just as much of a part of life as birth. A part of it is facing your fears, since death truly is the ultimate fear. Not like I'm being morbid or anything, but this as been a growing experience; I've had to get a good, long, realistic look at mortality.

It's also strange to think that all the feelings I'm having towards God right now are acceptable. I wouldn't say that I'm angry with God, but I'm not exactly seeing eye to eye with him right now. I've mentioned how unfair it is for Adam, who was the most decent, humble, and most righteous guy I've ever been peers with, suffered and withered away. Meanwhile, I'm fine. And my behavior doesn't warrant such health. My sins and shortcomings are many, and I haven't always been the best brother and friend. Heck, I'm normally a failure as a decent human being. It really upsets me, and just doesn't make sense. I haven't turned my back on God or anything, but man, I'm not exactly loving every little thing he does right this second.

In all this, I've had two verse come keep running over and over in my mind. The first I found randomly on my headboard, part of a Bible Study I did in high school, on a note card. I don't know how long that note card's been there, easily years (Which also casts a dim note on my room cleaning abilities). For the study, we had to write down verses everyday, and entitle them with the phrase: "Life Link." Anyway, I found this one card with the following verse written: "I know the thoughts that I have toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope."(Jer. 29:11) While I'm super not happy with God right now, he's still fine with me, and only wants the best for me. It may not help me right now, but I suppose it will eventually.

The second also came randomly, mentioned in passing on someone else's blog on a completely different matter: "Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one’s life for his friends" (John 15:13). I have seen that type of love in action. I saw someone who lived that everyday of his life. Giving to his brothers, and the world, even though we didn't always return. To give his love from beyond the grave, even though I was unable to say it while he was still alive. To remember and make provisions for us. It truly is overwhelming. It's also funny because for the rest of the passage, Jesus talks about how he no longer calls us servants, but friends. As mentioned numerous times before, "Shawreth" is Hebrew for "Servant," and they are my best friends/brothers. So in my mind, the words "servant" and "friend" are interchangable, since they are one and the same.

So I close with this 1000 word essay, a tribute to the Immortal 27, one of which who now truly is immortal. (Note: this is senior year, not all 27 are there. Also, notice the guy beside me)

Well, Laters

Burial of a Brother

2008-03-30T18:53:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was easily the hardest day of my life. It's kind of funny, it wasn't all bad. In fact, a lot of it was really good. But still, it was incredibly rough. I'm going to try and detail it all, since it would probably be good for the soul even though it's hard

I somehow managed to drive Jackson. I honestly don't know how I did that. I don't remember the journey, except that it seemed a lot shorter than usual. At the same time, the seconds seemed to drag by. I think I played some music, or tried to listen to a book on CD. I made it to Richard's house around 11:30. Richard is one of the Immortal 27 (We rushed together). Even though he was a few years ahead of me, he's still one of my best friends from that rush class. It was good to see him. His wife couldn't make it, so it was just the two of us. That was probably for the best. I love Stephine to death, but her presence might have been distracting.

So off we went to Magee. We pretty much talked the entire time, following his GPS. Caught up with each other, see how the other was doing in school/career. He's got about a few months left on his hospital administration dealie, and was looking forward to getting that done with. His real calling/gift is nursing homes. I've never seen anyone deal better than Richard in regards to the elderly. He worked as the activities director for years while he was still in grad school at a local assisted living place. I remember going there for service junk, and just seeing how awesome and gentle his attitude toward them was. After about 45 minutes, we rolled into the church.

Oddly enough, I recognized it. We did level 4 at Adam's grandparents' land a few years back, and the church was a major staging point. We were a little early, but decided to roll in anyway. Inside, we signed the book and noticed that James, another one of the Immortals, had already done so and was inside the church. It was a small church, set up in the baffling Baptist style of three rows, with two aisles. I noticed that one of the pews had the Shawreth Hebrew on it. It was Adam's stain-glassed Hebrew he got his grandfather to make. He had it in his room for years and I always admired/envied it. Apparently, Adam had made sure that we got reserved seating, right up front. Granted, they kept having to move us, since no one had any idea just how many of us were going to show up, but eventually, his dad made sure the funeral director knew that we weren't to be moved.

At the front of the church was Adam's coffin. Thankfully, it was a closed casket. However, they had this incredibly goofy picture framed beside it. He was on a beach, and he was pointing at something or someone off camera. Smiling as big as always, I kinda wondered what they had to crop out in order to get that funny pose. His parents were up front receiving people. I had never met his parents before, but he'd talked of them often. His mom knew Richard, since Richard worked at the hospital where Adam was getting treatment. I introduced myself to her, and she kinda smiled, and pointed to my Shawreth pin. She told me that Adam was wearing his pin right now, and that he'd be buried in it. Okay, I lost it somewhat right then and there.

But it got worse, I went up to his dad, who I had also never met, and he was like "Stu! So glad you could make it!' He knew who I was instantly, as I later found out, due to Adam's talking about me. His dad pointed me and Richard to our pew. So for about 30 minutes, we sat there, noticing who all came in that was Shawreth. For a while, we were scared that it would only be the 5 of us, all Immortals, but still.

Luckily, I forgot about one constant, Shawreth Standard Time. No matter what the occasion, a Shawreth is going to show up late, but around 15 minutes before any given situation starts. And in we came. I saw guys that I hadn't seen in 3 years. So awesome to see everyone. John, who I've mentioned on here before, was someone I was especially looking forward to seeing, since he'd be bringing his new girlfriend. I'd heard a lot about this new lady, and looked forward to finally putting a face to all the talk. He came, as well as Robbie and a whole bunch of guys. In all, we overflowed the reserved section, and they were forced to create a new one, just for us. I'd say there were 30 Shawreth, as well as sweethearts. And 15 Immortals, which is an insanely high number considering how far everyone is around the country.

The actual service was okay. I mean, I guess so. I don't remember much of it. I was numb the entire time. It seemed like it was more for his extended family and the people who knew him when he was a kid. The preacher mispronounced our name as "Sha-wreath" which got a few chuckles. It was good to finally meet Pap-Paw, who Adam always talked about. Even though Pap-Paw just had knee surgery, he wanted to meet each one of individually. Anyway, afterwards, we all meet en masse to greet each other in the front of the church. Hug some peeps, find out how the brothers and sisters were doing. It turns out that we were all honorary pallbearers according to the program, and that his parents wanted to receive us all seperately. So after about 15 minutes, we all lined up to go to the fellowship hall.

But before that, we were still joking and telling Adam stories, and I think his parents wanted to hear that. To hear laughter and all, just fifteen minutes later. Anyway, his parents went down the line, and told us just how much we meant to Adam. After that, I remembered to get my picture out of Richard's truck. Richard had mentioned that Adam's parents wanted a picture of the Rush class, the Immortals, and I happened to have a spare. It was an extremely good picture that was part of a happy that Corrie made me for freshman formal. It truly was the pinnacle of happiness. There we all were, right after becoming official members of Shawreth, huddled together. Biggest smiles you'd ever see. Man, we all looked so young. Anyway, I got it out of the car, and went back in. As soon as I entered, I saw Adam's dad. I stumbled through telling him what it was, and that I'd like him to have it. He bear hugged me and told me "He really loved you Stu." "He was always talking about you." And that's what he kept saying "He really loved you"

I lost it hardest-core. I was such a sobbing wreck. To love someone that much, and have it returned beyond the grave. To know that in spite of my many faults and shortcomings as a friend and brother, he still raved to his parents about me. To have all my grief and feelings justified. That's all I wanted to hear. That he loved me back. That the love I had for him wasn't in vain. Not only that he loved me, but he told someone about it. I had to excuse myself and hide away in the nursery. I don't know how long I was in there. It could have been 30 seconds, it could have been 30 minutes. To have my most irrational fear completely evaporated. Adam loved me too. He thought of me as a brother too.

John came in after a little while. I don't know if I was able to say anything to him that was coherent. Finally, I regained my composure, and went out to finally properly meet his surprisingly smoking girlfriend. When I met her briefly before the service, I promised her that "there would be talk" afterwards. Not one to let a promise go by, I launched into retelling some of her beloved's most embarrasing moments. Once again, I don't know how long we were there, outside of the nursery, laughing really loud at old stories. I vaguely remember Adam's dad walking by, and smiling a big smile as he regarded me over-exagerating one of John's numerous escapades.

Somehow, we ended up in the fellowship hall, where they had already started picking the food. I was able to snag a cup of Mississippi Sweet Tea, which I begrudingly learned to like during my time there (I'm normally a strict unsweet tea drinker. Sweet tea always tasted nasty to me. But there's only sweet tea in the Sippy, so when in Rome...) I also got a bite of what I thought was a pancake. Adam and I usually ate breakfast together in the caf, so I didn't think it too strange that there'd be pancakes. (In fact Adam was in the car for my infamous "hot, buttered biscuits comment" it is important to note that I didn't say biscuits) It was actually a flat corn muffin, and terrible. Robbie said I probably broke some old woman's heart by throwing it away, but I didn't care, it was awful.

After a time, everyone had left, so Richard and I decided that we should do the same. We were the last Shawruffians to leave, and decided to bid farewell to his family. I lost it again when his dad told me "Thank you". He thanked me for the picture, but more importantly for being exactly how Adam described me. For helping to bring laughter, cause that's exactly what Adam would have wanted. And he told me again and again that Adam really loved me. He just kept saying that. I sobbed some more.

Richard and I drove back. We swapped some more stories, mainly about Adam had gotten his Shawreth nickname. But we also talked a lot about the future. What all he wanted to. Same with me as well. We got back to his house and I got to chill with Stephine some. Always good to see that girl, since she is such a sweetie pie. However, it soon became time for me to leave, despite Richard's protests. He made me swear that I'd drive carefully, and would pull over if I ever needed to.

The drive back was just as surreal. I don't remember it. It seemed both an eternity and insanely quick. I know that I listened to "Body of American" a bunch. But more importantly, I listened to the Rush crazy mix Adam and I made. We always rode together on the first night of Rush, paying homage to our being paired off as freshmen for our own first night. And about half of the other take outs, Adam and I rode together, giving the Associates holy hell. I remembered all the little routines we did to each song. I got a real peace about everything. I know it sounds strange, but almost like Adam knew what I was doing, and approved. It just further clarified what his dad had told me "He really loved you Stu."

I'm almost at the end. I got back home. I realized that except for some Cherry Coke, Sweet Tea, and that awful bite of muffin, I hadn't eaten anything all day. Luckily, we had some leftover salmon. I was insanely hungry. I hadn't really eaten anything for the past couple of days, and I was finally hungry again. I then tried to go to sleep. I had to take something to help me, since my thoughts had been keeping me up ever since I found out about his passing. Two Tylenol PM later, I was out in dreamland. I about 8 or 9 hours of sleep, which is more than I had gotten for the past two nights combined.

I'll close with this: when Adam first got really sick, a bunch of us talked about starting a scholarship. He didn't approve. In lieu of flowers, Adam wanted donations to made for foreign missions. We decided to do the same with what would have been used for the scholarship money. Not just one massive gift, but spread it out. So that's what's being done. If anyone knows of worthy foreign missionaries or mission projects, please let me know.

Well, Laters

In Memory

2008-03-29T19:26:00.001-07:00

"This morning on the harbor when I said goodbye to you,
I remember how I swore that I'd come back for you someday.
And as the sunset came to meet the evening on a hill,
I told you that I loved you, I always did, I always will"

The Worst News

2008-03-27T10:13:00.000-07:00

I just got a call.

Adam died this morning.

Services are Saturday.

Please pray all around.

Well, Laters

My Stance on the Separation of Church and State

2008-03-21T21:58:00.000-07:00

Is it possible to legislate morality?

I mean, seriously.

Everyone on this earth has some sort of moral code they live by. It can take several different forms, but for the most part, every human being has something ingrained which guides their actions and motivations. It's a personal guide of how to act in public. There are moral taboos that earn the disrespect in society's eyes as well as the shunning of one's moral focal point. (Be it God, or some other deity, I'm trying to be general here)

But at the same time, government (at least our own United States government) purports to be under the jurisdiction of popular sovereignty. What the majority of the population believes to be correct, is what is believed to be correct. There is no distinction between the voters themselves. Just numbers. Even if the "better" citizens believe a certain person should win an elected office, the person that won more of the popular vote wins. That's all there is to it.

And yet, morality takes superiority. If two differ on a moral issue, each will inevitably believe the other to be not only wrong, but question the status of their soul. But at the same time, a moral issue cannot have a cut and dry answer. Since morality is a personal issue, even for a seemingly cut and dry matter, there will be billions of shades of gray for each individual opinion.

So while it's possible to have a personal standard, it is nearly impossible to have a collective one for a group, let alone a nation. Consider all the churches and denominations that formed over the years. They did not split over humongous huge moral issues. If anything they agreed on 99.9% of the issues, but couldn't stomach that .1%. And that's among a body that worships the same God and believes in the same Bible. Could you imagine getting a consensus from a nation of millions, all believing different moral standards?

But come every election year, out come the parade of politicians, each promising how their morality will come into the legislative process. Yet, if our government is based upon popular sovereignty, shouldn't we be seeking the candidate with the least amount of personal beliefs? Shouldn't they be responsible to the majority of their constituents? We elect officials to serve as the voice of the people, shouldn't they be required to speak for the majority, even if they disagree?

My point is this, Christianity is meant to be personal. Jesus calls us individually to walk with him. He doesn't ask us to convert everyone by the point of a sword or the edge of a pen. We are called to walk with him, and share his love with all. We cannot force his love upon others, it's something that they must find on their own. By the same token, it is not our responsibility to change the laws of the land to better be in "our favor". First, who is this "our"? Is that an insinuation that Christianity is unified? But more importantly, are you dependent upon the government for granting God's favor? There are Christians who are thriving throughout the world in the midst of persecution. They can honestly die for admitting to their faith. But whenever the United States government, who is incredibly tolerant of all religions, doesn't comply to your own morality, you automatically claim persecution? Please, step away from the slippery slope for a second.

It is my belief that, in the words of Solomon, "there is nothing new under the sun." The world is no better or worse than it ever was. Old sins are forgotten, new sins are perfected. Look back on the Patriarchs. Without exception, all committed wretched sins. And they are looked upon as spiritual supermen. Why? Because if God wants to work upon earth, he's got to use a wretched sinner. I mean, that's everyone upon the earth. We all have sinned. To believe that we can create a utopia for our fellow man, against their will, is folly.

Instead of worrying about the specks in our brother's eye, why don't we worry about the plank in our own? I'm not saying that we shouldn't care about the state of our society, but we should focus on personal measures. Don't try to change the world, just change yourself. God holds us personally responsible for our own actions. We cannot expect to go before the throne and say: "Okay, I would have done what you asked me to do, if only the government had past a law mandating that I did it." God is so beyond the scope of mere legislation. To claim that God is dependent on the recognition of a bunch of law-makers is insulting.

So in short, keep God out of government. He's too good for that.

Well, Laters

An Unfinished Thought on the Suckiness of Life

2008-03-18T21:18:00.000-07:00

Well blog, we've had some fun times, haven't we?

Don't get me wrong, I'm not stopping, not by a long shot. But I'm going to be writing something here that's much deeper than anything I've written before. I don't know if I'll be able to finish, but rest assured, I've been mulling this over for a while.

I've been thinking a lot lately. I mean, I'm always thinking about something, but this line of thought disturbs me somewhat. This weekend I went to the Sippy. Saw Tim get married. Saw some friends I hadn't seen in a while. Got caught up with the goings on in their life. Saw Robbie. Had ice cream with him and his fiancee. Spent a lot longer than I planned just talking. It felt both like the most natural feeling in the world and the most awkward moment of my life.

In about a month or so, it's going to be two years since graduation. I've often felt like my life was stagnant during that time, but now I see that it hasn't. I'm not the same person I was when I left MC. My personality has changed, my outlook has changed. But do I even want that? I thought I liked the person I was. I loved my friends and our relationship. But now I see that we're completely different people.

It's not like a break up or anything. I suppose I never thought that the closeness in proximity would end. But just talking to him, I began to realize things that I always knew that I didn't really acknowledge. I don't know if supressed it, or if it simply didn't matter at the time. You invest so much in people, expecting for your investment to always be there. And it is, don't get me wrong, but it's not the same. There's not that closeness. You aren't talking in the here and now, you're either reliving old memories or in disbelief of the current status quo. I remember getting a raised eyebrow here and there when I talked about my current activities. Not like he didn't believe me, but that it was so different from the guy he knew. Not the womanizing, arrogant, know-it-all. But it was a two way street. He had pretty much given up on school, not like he was getting bad grades or anything, but he'd lost his luster. He admitted something that I'd kinda always know, that I helped him keep his interest in class with my stupid jokes and banter. And for what it's worth, I needed him to listen, since if I didn't always have an audience, I'd have gotten bored with class too.

Man, growing up sucks.

It's hard to verbalize what I'm going through right now. I don't feel any different. I have the same thought processes, I have the same tastes, I can rationalize things exactly the way I used to. Yet, at the same time I know I'm not the same person. I wouldn't say that I'm a better person, but I certainly have toned down. I've used the analogy of a split personality before, the "Stu" and the "Kris" sides. (Not like I've got personality issues or am schizo, but there's a facet). I suppose that I have gotten fairly "Stu-ish" lately, but the Kris can always come back. But is there anything for the Kris to come back too? The enviroment in which the Kris thrived is no longer there. Even if I tried to go back, I couldn't. It's gone forever.

So is that what I'm doing? Am I just in remorse for what's gone? Do I miss the life that I once had? I know that hindsight is 20/20, but the past is often clouded by nostoglia. And don't get me wrong, I love my life now. I'm crazy happy to be in grad school. I've got some pretty good friends. But always at the back of my mind was this nagging thought "This is pretty fun, but you know what would make it a zillion times better? If so-and-so was here." To be experiencing new situations with the same group of people that you've grown and cultivatied. To not have to start over again. To let that old friendship mature, instead of having distance change things. But I know that what I once had was lightning in a bottle, something that could never be duplicated. And maybe that this new wrinkle in the relationship can only make us stronger. We still have the past, that's something, and we're still willing to relive it.

I don't like this at all. I've seen the distance. I see just how different things are. I guess I never really recongized it until now. I guess I always had this fantasy that I could go back to the way things were. I know I can't. But it's so tempting to think so. I have to move on, I must move on. But I can never forget.

At the same time, it's a very important part of my life, and explaining it to someone seems more trouble than it's worth. Part of me just wants to live in that little caccoon forever. But jeez, that makes me seem pathetic. I've never been the type to long for the past. I don't want the past, just some of the best people from it. You try hard to keep in touch, but life happens. You can't really be mad, that's just the way it is.

Is this really limiting me? Is this what's stopping me from developing new relationships? This fantasy that I can time travel? That if wish hard enough, I can control life. Maybe not the circumstances, but those around me? Yeesh, that makes me seem really pathetic. But I know that's what....

Okay, I really can't finish this. Feel free to ask me in real life, but I can't write properly any more.

Well, Laters

Fare Thee Well, Omar

2008-03-16T13:22:00.000-07:00

As promised, today I will eulogize Omar Little.

Yes, Omar was a character. Yes, the actor who plays Omar is still alive. Yes, the person that the character of Omar is based upon is still alive and out of the game. But still, Omar must be mourned.

He was a seemingly simple man, his main occupation in life was robbing drug dealers. But however, like in real life and the best pieces of art, there was much complexity in his facade. He had a code of honor: He never swore, even though the rest of the world around him was profane; he honored the Sunday Truce, even when his enemies violated it; he was monogamous, always faithful to his lover; he was a homosexual, even though the street was a highly heterosexualized enviroment (Note: the real Omar wasn't gay. He's actually married to the inspiration for the woman on "The Corner"). And most importantly, he never approached someone unless they were in the drug game. Honest citizens had nothing to fear from Omar.

What was unique about Omar was that he was the culmination of several fears, yet had humanity. There's no denying that Omar was exactly what society fears the most: a violent, intelligent, self-actualized powerful black man. Omar was not a member of the status quo. Yet, he protected it from the outside. He too had a war on drugs; he didn't circumvent the law, he became his own law. He had a fair and impartial sense of justice. Is there any surprise that the drug dealers feared Omar more than the cops? While the police had to jump through hoops and get convictions through the courts, Omar simply had to show up at your corner, whistling "Farmer in the Dell" (Or "A Hunting We Will Go" which is much more chilling). Omar knew your guilt, Omar knew what you were, and Omar wasn't scared. Because he had passed the point of afraid the dealers, the dealers feared him. They knew there was no way to get to Omar, to make him surrender. You could kill the ones he loved, but he wouldn't back down, he'd simply get angry and even.

But Omar also had a softer side. He treated his lovers well. He always took his grandmother to church on Sunday morning. In fact, he knew to lie to his grandmother and tell her that he worked at the airport, never ruining her image of Omar was the dutiful grandson. He liked Newport cigarettes and Honey Nut Cheerios. Even before brutally stabbing an attacker in prison, he inquired about the Honey Nut Cheerios.

But alas, Omar died. And it is only fitting of how he died. Shot in the side of the head by a child, who saw the legendary figure of Omar, and felt disappointed. While the rest of the street had bought into the image of Omar as an immortal vigliante, this kid saw a limping man. Omar's persona had gotten so big, that the only he could be taken down by someone outside of the game. It truly is almost like Greek tragedy.

Omar was never going to have a happy ending. He wouldn't stay in the Virgin Islands with his lover. He wasn't like his brother, the legendary "No-Heart Anthony," he wasn't about to punk out of the game. He wouldn't go out in a blaze of glory, it would only increase the legend of Omar. And he couldn't just leave the game. His life was snuffed out, quickly. The world at large didn't pay any notice. He was simply another dead body in the hood. His body was incorrectly I.D.ed at the morgue and his obit was booted from the newspaper.

But yet, the spirit of Omar lives on.

In young Michael, who will also probably come to an untimely demise. Michael will also live hard, died young, and become a living legend. However, he too uses a shotgun to deliver justice to drug dealers. Law abiding citizens of the country can once again sleep well, there is someone on the street fighting for the status quo through his own means.

Plus, the real Omar's still alive and a community activist.

Anyway, you were too good for this world Omar. Fare thee well.

Well, Laters

A Four-Part of Info

2008-03-12T10:34:00.000-07:00

So there's been quite a bit of stuff going on. I'm going to try my best and touch base on all of them.

1. School-
Yup, it still exists. And yup, I'm still writing papers of doubious origin. I really do enjoy grad school and like the seminar format. I can only imagine how much more entertaining my undergrad years would have been if I'd taken Becky up on her offer to have a Crusades seminar foe Robbie and me. That being said, I'm looking forward for a week off from class. Granted, I'm going to be spending that week writing papers, but still, it should be a blast.

2. Weddings-
I've got two this weekend. The first is Friday night, in the Rouge. T.O's getting married. The next afternoon, the legend himself: Dr. Timothy Allison Krason will be nupitualizing (inside joke) in the Sippy. So of course, I will be making the interstate voyage to see his grace wed. I also have to go shopping for wedding presents.

3. Smash Brothers-
The new Smash Brothers game came out for Wii. I have nothing but grand memories of playing the Gamecube version in the dorm or at youth group in high school. So I've been amazed by how freaking fun this new game is. Seriously, you really ought to try it.

4. The Wire (Spoilers)-
Possibly the greatest television show of all time aired its final episode Sunday night. My next post is probably going to be a eulogy for Omar, but until then I can only remark of the brilliance of "The Wire." I got into the show late, having it recommended to me by a co-worker. I started watching the first season on DVD, and to be frank, I was bored. I didn't understand what was going on, there were too many characters, and there was no explanitoy opening. However, the show rewards you for keeping with it and paying attention. By the time I had finished the 3rd episode, I was hooked. I devoured episodes, polishing off season 3 in a weekend. The show truly is a work of genius. No other show dares to show life exactly how it is. There are no winners, no losers, just people. The good guys don't always win, and the bad guys don't always lose. Life doesn't always give you closure. The building tension between two parties doesn't always end with a direct confrontation, sometimes life intervenes. The city of Balitmore continues. The drama of the drug game continues. While the players may change, their roles are continual. Though Omar died, Michael picked up the mantle and is continuing in Omar's wake. While McNulty has been kicked off the force, there is already another fresh young cop willing to use McNulty's methods. And tragically, even though Bubble's finally got sober and accepted by his family, Duqie's already taken his place. It's cyclical, really. Anyway, possibly greatest show ever, certainly greatest drama ever, and easily the best show HBO has ever done.

Well, Laters.

I'm Probably Going To Get Flamed About This By People I Don't Know

2008-03-07T13:31:00.000-08:00

Well, I was either going to write about my views on home schooling or a eulogy for Omar Little. It looks like home schooling won.

I guess I have to preference this by stating that I'm about to express my own opinion. I'm sure you've got your own thoughts on the matter, and they're probably valid. That being said, here I go:

I can't stand home schooling. I believe that it's a tremendous disservice to the child. I would never, ever, ever let my kid be home schooled. The supposed benefits are actually liabilities, harming the child. Of course, I can only base my thoughts on my own experience. I have never been home schooled, though I have had quite a bit of interaction with those that were. I am not 100% pro-public schools, nor private for that matter. Anyway, here are my thoughts on home schooling

I have never met a home schooled kid that was well-adjusted.

Take your pick really. And I’m not just talking about one “wacky” family. Children that have been home schooled are unable to cope in the real world, and continually retreat back into a bubble. It is impossible to completely keep the world away from your kid; you’re just delaying the inevitable. The longer you withhold reality, the worse it’s going to affect them once they reach it. I remember scores of freshmen entering MC, who had been home schooled their entire lives, and going nutso with all the freedom available to them. They were the ones most likely to skip class, get drunk on weekdays, and eventually get kicked out on academic probation. And this was at a private Baptist school in Mississippi. I can only imagine how crazy they get at a State school.

They also were incredibly inept socially. Without exception, they did not know how to relate to their peers. The vast majority of the college experience is outside of the classroom. While, in theory, they may have “out-preformed” their collective education peers in class, as soon as the hour was up, they became infantile. Once again, I can only call upon my own experience, but both of the guys I rushed with that were home schooled had flunked out by the end of their second year in college. I know that home schooled kids run the gamut in regards to their personalities, just like the rest of the population. But none of these kids simply knew how to behave themselves, or had any self control

Also, home schooled kids are not more intelligent. I’ve never seen any do better on a test or class, or be more knowledgeable of a subject than a “regular” student. Sure, a home schooled kid wins the national spelling bee every year, but does that honestly matter? When it comes to affairs that actually have worth, home schooled kids lag behind.

Home schooled children have inflated egos and are generally more intolerant. A nice part of public/private school is that there’s a good mix of people. Just like in the real world, not everyone there thinks or believes the same way you do. And guess what? You’re gonna have to learn to deal with that, overcome those obstacles, and figure out a way to work with them. A home schooled child spends the formative years of their life having the whole world revolve around them. When they finally learn that reality isn’t like that, they cannot keep up with their peers, who already learned that lesson years ago.

Simply being a parent does not make you the best teacher for your child. Now don’t get me wrong, I learned plenty from my parents. They’re both educators, it’s what they do. They also were incredibly involved and placed great importance on education. They both have advanced degrees; they both know education’s merit. But they also know that there’s a lot of stuff their kids needed to learn that they didn’t know. No way could I have learned trig from my parents, or science, or sociology, or foreign language. It wasn’t their area of expertise. Heck, I had already out distanced my parents and siblings in history and reading by the time I was like 8. But my parents knew that they weren’t able to provide the level of knowledge I needed by themselves. I vividly remember my dad letting me check out whatever book I wanted from the library, no matter how “advanced” the subject matter, provided I could prove to him that I could read and understand it. While my parents weren’t the ones teaching me, they made sure they knew what I was learning.

Also, getting a wide mix of teachers is awesome. It prepares you for the real world. And I’m not just talking about the good and inspiring teachers, you also learn much from the incompetent ones. Maybe not subject material; but you get an education in learning that there are all types of people in the world. Besides, my favorite teachers ever were nothing at all like my parents (Neither my mom and dad were the most racist and sexist persons to ever walk the face of the earth, but Coach Washington sure was! And I loved him for it.)

As for religious rationale, I’m not going to honor that with a response. I defer to the “Jesus never drank Gatorade” argument for those objections. You are charged to educate your child, and part of that responsibility is realizing that others are better able to accomplish that goal.

As for children with special needs, I can honestly say that teachers who give their time for those children are some of the most self-less individuals on the planet. They are not in it for the money, or because they’re too incompetent for any other job. As hard as it may be to believe, they actually care about the kids. To think that you can handle all the extra stress and commitment that caring for that child requires alone is both foolish and arrogant.

I could go on about this for days, but let me sum up. My main problem with home schooling is the sense of arrogance surrounding it. The parents are elitist, feeling that their child is better than the “world’s” education system. The children have inflated senses of self-worth, since their whole lives revolved around them. The families believe that they are superior to all other education systems. In reality, they don’t see how much it’s damaging their children.

And until I meet a home schooled child who isn’t an infantile, self-absorbed, intellectual light-weight, I’ll stand by these claims.

I guess I better prepare for the angry comments.

Well, Laters.

Kanye's Humbleness (Initially)

2008-03-03T22:04:00.001-08:00

Okay, I'm gonna go not very deep tonight, but I've got something I want to get off my chest.

If it's all about glory, but not our own, then it's about our humbleness. And I've got an example of humbleness that I always use. Rest assured, this is not your everyday example of humbleness. Actually, the dude I'm basing it off of is quite full of himself.

The type of humbleness I strive for is that of Kanye West in his first video.

Okay, yeah, I'm really going to have to detail that one.

Back in 2001, when Kanye was not a huge superstar, nor a well-known producer, he was just a kid trying to get a record deal. Locked in his bedroom, making beats for a few bucks here and there, he dreamed of making it big. Despite breaking his mother's heart, he dropped out of college and pushed himself head-on into the often brutal music business. He believed in himself, believed in his music, and kept paying his dues.

Until he finally gets a break. He gets to sit in on a studio session at Roc-a-Fella Records, home of his idol, Jay-Z. He attempts to rap some rhymes and leaves a sample of his beats behind. He doesn't really impress anyone. No one except Jay-Z, who hears the beats and proceeds to spit out classics. Those songs become tracks on Jay-Z's new album, "The Blueprint" one of the greatest rap albums ever. ("Blueprint" was written and recorded in something like 2 days) A young kid who's still finanically dependent on his mother produces multiple tracks on perhaps the biggest album of the year, and arguably Jay's finest. He has made it as a producer, gaining the esteem of his heroes.

Furthermore, the first single from the album was "H to tha Izzo," one of Kanye's tracks. Of course, a video is made. And Kanye gets the chance to make an appearance. Remember, he is not well known as a producer, he hasn't written "Jesus Walks," he hasn't been in the accident yet, he's just a kid who gets a chance to have a split second cameo in a megastar's video. I honestly can't imagine if I'd be able to keep my composure if I were in that sort of circumstance. Anyway, at 3:21, for about 2 seconds, you can see Kanye, flanked by dancers, showing off his new tattoo of scripture he had just gotten for the video.

That's it, and it was the highlight of his life, up to that point.

Often times, when we start doing amazing and great things, it's easy to lose sight of where we came from. We all used to be spiritually infirmed, waiting for our break. And God comes along and thinks we have potential. He wants to use us. So through us acting as vessels, God is able to produce some of his finest work. And sometimes, he gives us a chance for a cameo. It's still his show, but we get a shot to just bask in his excellence. Not bring attention to ourselves, but make our mark saying that we were a part of this.

That's what God does for us. It's not like we are doing anything great, but rather, he is giving us a chance to be a part of his glory. I know that Kanye has long since become a huge star in his own right, but he'll always be that kid showing off his tattoo for two seconds. We need to capture that essence, that sheer joy of just being a part of something we'd only dreamed of. Not to become convinced of our own worth, but to just enjoy being a part of something much bigger than ourselves. Just showing off that tattoo, and being happy with it. If Kanye had never done another thing in the music business, he'd still be beyond psyched for his one appearance in a Jay-Z video. By the same token, even if God doesn't do another thing for us, we can still be in awe of all that he's done.

So yeah, in my life, I want to be like like Kanye West in 2 seconds of a music video. Never losing that joy of the moment

Well, Laters

A Disappointing Post If You Want Answers

2008-02-29T13:09:00.001-08:00

Okay, I'm not really certain where I'm going with this one, so bear with me.

During seminar yesterday, we talked about the two extreme viewpoints of history. They are on complete opposite ends of the spectrum. The first is that all historical events are inevitable. They have been set in motion by God, or whatever deity of your choosing, and cannot be prevented. Either supernatural forces are at work or the Masons, Illuminate, Opus Dei, The Shadow Government, or whatever secret organization, has ensured that they occur. The world is occuring on a timeline, where everything has been preordained. The coming of the Civil War was ensured by the first settler stepping foot on Jamestown. And that Jamestown was inescapable as soon as Martin Luther nailed his Thesises on the church door. And that Luther was certain to occur with Saul's conversion to Paul. etc, etc, etc ad nausem. The seeds of current events can be seen many years ahead of time. As Shakespeare put it, we are nothing but "fortune's fool."

On the other hand, you have the contingency theory of history. Nothing is set in stone. The great historical actions were based upon completely irrational reasons. The framework for future conflict can't be seen because those that would participate in the conflict don't exist. It finds that humans are the one's in charge of their own destiny, and that all of civilization has been nothing but one set of happenstance after another. The Civil War occured because of a snap decision of a couple of states, based on false intelligence. Jamestown was undertaken not because of the spread of Protestantism, but for greed. Martin Luther nailed the Thesises due to some irrational desire for wine, women, and walruses. Nothing is set in stone. Anything can happen. There's always a choice.

Now the thing with history is that it's very easy to find yourself in the first catagory. We like to organize things into a theme. We like timelines. We like seeing cause and effect. But really, when you get down to brass tacks, humans were the ones who made history in the first place. Therefore, their rationale might not have rational. Rarely, if ever, do we see the big picture. There is a multitude of reasons why we do the things we do, most of which we don't vocalize or conciously acknowledge. However, could these unconcious reasonings be further proof of the existance of fate?

It might sound like I'm splitting hairs here, but there's a fundamental question behind all this. Depending on our viewpoint, it changes how we approach any given event. If civilization is predetermined, our focus should not be on the participants, since they are little more than players in a game. There would be no reason to study individual events, since they do nothing more than lead into the next. Our focus would be on whoever's in charge of the events.

On the other hand, if we view history as nothing more than an individual decision after another, there is no reason to find context. All events exist in their own bubble, free of the pressure and influence of anything else. We seek to find the thoughts which made the "great men of history" do the things that they do. There is no consequence. Everything comes in its own.

Of course, I realize that I'm being purposefully extreme in my examples, and that reality thrives somewhere between the two views. Something along the lines that enviroment highly influences our course of action and that options are narrowed down little by little. But that being said, it makes one question much, including one's own life.

And here we are, reliving the old nasty debate between predestination and...um...I guess anti-predestination. Now, I'm not going to let my personal feelings on the matter come into play, but it's amazing how a deep spiritual question can finagle its way into what should otherwise be a strictly scholarly affair. (Yes, I'm well aware that spiritual things can be scholarly, but stay with me) It's basically a decision between living in the moment or living in perspective. Does God determine all our actions and circumstances? Or does the world move on its own, and God finds a way to insert himself in? Granted, there's no way we can know with any certainity.

Frankly, I've found that those who believe in the first option (being that life is all set out) are those that find comfort in that security. It helps one cope to believe that the most horrific circumstances were planned out by a superior being. No, I'm not talking spiritually, since I'm about to use a pure history example: the Kennedy Assassination. A lot of people are conspiracy nuts about that. They believe that JFK was taken out by the Mafia, the Soviets, LBJ, the Cubans etc. But honestly, I think it's a coping mechanism. In order to justify and comprehend the horrific nature of the President's death, they have to find comfort in seeing that some greater force was a work. Such an act could not have been wonton or random. Somebody had to plan it.

However, the believers in the second option are just plain foolish. It is irresponsible to believe that actions don't have concequences. It's almost like being Peter Pan, never having to grow and claim ownership or the actions. They don't have to justify their behavior, it just is.

Anyway, I'm not reallying going anywhere with this. I'm not saying one branch is more correct than the other. Nor will I say which one I believe in myself. One thing I've known for a while is that life is not black and white, but rather shades of grey. Very very few things are completely free of interpretation. And also, since we are dealing with forces much greater than ourselves, they are also unknownable. I'd hate to be a downer, but there is no answer to this debate, well at least not a definative one.

Still, it was a fun way to pass the time in seminar.

Well, Laters

The Most Splendiferious Day in About 2 Years

2008-02-27T13:34:00.000-08:00

I realize that a lot of people reading this blog have known me less than a year, or there abouts. Therefore, I'm going to have to quantify what would otherwise be a straightforward post. For those lucky individuals who knew me in college or prior, you might as well skip to the last paragraph.

Really, go ahead...nothing is going to be revealed here that you don't already know.

Anyway, I'm a man obsessed. Much of my college existence was spent in search of a fabled item. The obtainment and consumption of this item was of the utmost importance, underlying many feats. The whole "Hot-buttered" weekend was validated by the presence of this substance in multitude. To have me offer someone to partake in this object was a testament to how much I valued our friendship. I only shared with those I felt I could truly trust. I kept a massive stash in my dorm room, as well as the storage room at home. However, even the mere rumor of its availability would send me treking several miles and over state lines.

I do not remember exactly when I first sampled this wonderous creation, nor do I remember when it took a hold of my fancy. However, my life could have been split into two eras: B.L.W and A.L.W. Still, as the availability of this product began to diminish, it faded into the recesses of my mind. My stockpiles began to wane, and my desire deceased. True, it was still and would always hold a special place in my memory, much like time spent with an ex-significant other after a mutual split. But I would never again have that unbridled passion. I matured, my tastes changed. This fool-hearty quest is best taken by those who are younger, inexperienced, able to give their full hearts. I do not remember the exact last time I sampled this product's wares, but I remember that it was prior to graduation. Our experience together was not known to be our last, but it ended up being that way. Life often doesn't give us the chance to say a proper farewell to those we love. Finality often elevates the otherwise mundane unto a higher escalion. My life has gone on without it in my life, I wouldn't say I'm lesser for its absence, but I have certainly changed.

However, a freak encounter today threw all that out the window.

While on my break today, I decided to travel to a nearby gas station in order to purchase something caffeinated. While balking at the ridiculously high price of gas, a familiar hue caught the corner of my eye. And there it was. In all its glory. I almost shed a tear. In fact, I think I did shed more than a few tears. Of course I immediately purchased some, my mind still in shock of the greatness of what I was seeing. It was simply too good to comprehend all at once.

And then I took that first taste. And it was all worth it. The two years of its absence, my mental status being altered without its regular presence. Though I will never fall as deep into infatuation as I once was, it felt right to once again enjoy it simply as it was.

Who Let the Dogs out, Collipark, Sha-Zam, with Liberty and Justice for All!

Abridged version for those who already know me:
I saw some Orange Mountain Dew at a gas station today. I hadn't seen or had one of those in over 2 years. I bought one. It was super good. Hey, remember how I used to be obsessed with that drink?

Well, Laters.

Good Ole Fashioned Fun

2008-02-26T21:29:00.000-08:00

Fun- Writing a paper about Buffalo Bill and his method of using a fictional persona to advance his legit status as a "real" person from the "Wild West"

Funner- Deciding to include rappers as an example of others who use a fictional persona

Funnest- Presenting your paper to the seminar entitled "'I Ain't Talking About It, I'm Living It': Jay-Z and the Invocation of the Heroic Past." Having said paper hailed as a good example of using the methodology of Joy Kasson for a time period other than the old West.

Once again, I wrote a paper that was 95% about Jay-Z and it was very well received. Repeat: I wrote a paper about a rapper, in a real history class for a real grade. Either I'm stupid or a genius.

Man, cultural history is so much fun!

(Also: Sorry Kristin, but I may not be cooking at the level you're used to)

Well, Laters

Short Note About Rainy Days

2008-02-21T10:55:00.000-08:00

I suppose I'll keep this one short and sweet.

I love days like today. Sure, the weather's dreary. Maybe classes got canceled when you wanted to debate some topics. Perhaps you didn't get enough sleep last night.

But all that can be thrown to the wayside by a simple message from someone you care about. Not even a long one, just letting you that they're okay or that their thesis is going well.

Suddenly, the entire day is in a whole new light. The sun has broken through the clouds. It is all worth it.

Well, Laters

A Few Musings on Culture

2008-02-17T20:01:00.000-08:00

Jeez, I kinda wanted this to be a fairly in-depth piece about some of the junk I've been reading lately, mainly about the relationship between Culture and History. Oh what the heck, lemme give it a whirl.

In college, I majored in History. This much is very old news. However, I also have a very keen interest in another field, Sociology. I happened to minor in Sociology and was about 3 hours away from having it count as a double major. Needless to say, I like me some Social theory. Of course, as a grad student, I no longer have to choice a 'minor' per se, but instead have taken up the mantle by focusing on cultural history, which does indeed exist.

Basically, in layman's terms, a culture historian contends that while political and economic factors were important, the cultural factors of a society had a much greater effect on the people in general, and thereby history. As you study more and more about history, you realize that there is a huge difference between "facts" and "truth." At first, this difference sounds bizarre. How can something be "factual" but not "true?" Or on the other hand, is it possible to be "truthful" but devoid of "facts?" But therein lies the real secret. History is not the study of the past. Rather, it is much more concerned about how we view and interpret the past. By seeing how we treat the past, it is possible to get a good look at ourselves. To see what we find important/valuable. To determine what we deem constitutes further study. To look at one's historical icons shows what values are considered valuable. Even the same historical figure could be admired for completely different reasons.

For instance, Abe Lincoln was once admired for his 'moral character by not budging on the slavery issue.' Yet now, there is a growing movement that admires Lincoln for his pragmatism in moral affairs and his being a savvy politician. How could one man be admired for two different reason? Lincoln didn't change, he hasn't done anything new, the facts didn't change. But society did. New values were put into place. New ideals sought. Elements of his life are either glossed over or highlighted, depending on what purpose wants to be served. For instance, his shoddy political record, his homosexuality (Yep, he was gay. Well, about as gay as the times allowed) his differing opinion on the slave issue, all of these have pretty much been ignored in light of his more positive attributes.

You see, history is lived out by men (and I mean men in the mankind sense, not the male gender). And men are human. They have failures, they are irrational, and they often times do stupid things. But as historians, we have hindsight. We see the pieces falling into place. We see what influenced a decision. We see the groundwork for wars being laid years before bullets are fired. But to the participants, they don't see it. They don't see the previous 2 chapters that are an exposition for the actions they are about to undertake. They don't see the footnotes. All they see is that one moment in time.

And that's the crux of the matter. A moment's decision will be analyized for years, but at it's root, it remains a moment's decision. Why the action was undertaken will be debated for years, with differing theories waxing and waning in popularity, but what was done can never be removed.

But what's fascinating to me is why society views it as such. What factor's determined the reason that such an event is viewed in a certain way. Why a generation will focus on some aspects of a figure, and totally ignore others. Even religious icons, heck ESPECIALLY religious, are viewed under this lens. Compare the Jesus of "The Man Nobody Knows" with the Hippie Jesus. Both were popular and completely contradictory views of the same man, but both are accurate for their time. Christ didn't change, but how he was viewed did.

Anyway, back on point. I believe that to the average person living at any point in history, what affected their day to day lives more was not the political or economic state of the country, but rather what they were listening to. What they did to pass the time. What they were reading. What they were watching. What sort of things they talked about. Sure, politics and economics affected these cultural instituations, but culture was a filter. A middle man.

In particular, I am most interested in Pop Culture. And by "Pop Culture" I mean "Culture that is Popular." I am of the opinion that due to communications getting more effective, in essence, there is no more Folk Culture. Folk Culture is dependent on an isolated group to allow to growth. It is passed down in oral tradition and such. I believe that because of the rise of modern media (being trains, the telegraph, radio, newspapers, comics, television, the internet etc.) the means by which Folk Culture is sent have been replaced. While it is possible to transmit focused messages to a particular group, such beliefs are readily accessible to all. What results is a homogeniztion of all the cultures.

Now it is key to point out the difference between "Pop Culture" and "Culture that is Popular." All too often, the term "Pop Culture" implies inferiority, commonness, the lowest common demoninatior. It is for the crude masses and not fit to exist on the same plane as "High Culture." Yet, it is undeniable that even "High Culture" has become "Pop." And I'm not talking about Kitsch. The means by which "High Culture" is transmitted are pretty much the same as "pop culture." They use the same means, are subject to the same forces, and are available for consumption by all. Consider how the Met Opera now has preformances transmitted into movie theaters. A bastion of "High Culture" can now be enjoyed in the same enviroment as slasher flicks, inferior "Pop Culture" if there ever was such an example.

I believe that just because an element of culture is enjoyed by a wide berth of society, it does not make it inherently "bad." On the contrary, culture and art has always existed on a consumers basis, artists are dependent on having a public if they are to be viable. If something finds a wide audience, it has succeeded wonderfully by the nature of having many enjoy it. If those that were creative were not dependent on wide-spread acceptance, well, let's just say we wouldn't have so many people trying to get their break on "American Idol."

It's pretty much the difference between "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip" and "30 Rock." Both came out at the same time, both were about SNL type shows, both were eagerly anticipated. But "30 Rock" had one thing going for it: it was funny. "Studio 60" attempted to be too serious for its own good. It tried to be highbrow. It lusted after "intelligent viewers." By the same token, "30 Rock" was intelligent, but it also brought the humor. It gained an audience because, to be frank, people expected funny stuff from a show about another comedy show.

I know the example I provided was incomplete, but I hope my point was made. Culture that is popular is no less relevant than its stuffy, highbrow cousin. If anything, it gives us a much better example of what the society at large was comprised of, rather than its elite classes. True, history is a story dominated by the few that do great things, but they still existed in a society that allowed them to attempt such endevours.

Anyway, that's enough ramblings for the night. I hope anyone wanting a long post that's not about me writing papers is satisfied.

Well, Laters

My Seemingly Boring Life

2008-02-12T19:41:00.000-08:00

I suppose an update is in order.

I wrote more paper, read more books, etc.

I wish I could say my life is more externally exciting, but it's not.

Yet at the same time, I can't deny that I'm loving every minute of it. I'm being challenged again. I get to share my opinions on inane topics in a scholarly arena. It's gonna sound super dorky, but this is how I get my testosterone flowing. I may be a "Beta" male in most respects, but get me debating about anything, and I'll spit the razor blade out of my mouth and prove why they call me "da Kris"

I know this is incredibly boring to everyone reading this blog, but there's a few things on this earth I can flat out do. And reading and writing History is one of them.

Well, Laters

The Best News I've Gotten in a While!

2008-02-10T19:44:00.000-08:00

(In case anyone was curious, I was able to finish the paper in exactly EXACTLY 750 words. Your boy's got skills)

So I got a very VERY happy phone call today. It was from my hetero-lifemate, the other half of the History Mafia, "Downtown" Robbie Brown.

Robbie's engaged!!

Granted this really puts pressure on me, but I can't be happier for him and Adrianne. So come November, I'm going to be at the wedding of "my other half"!

I'm really happy for the kid, man they grow up so fast!

Well, Laters

Why I Hate Short Papers

2008-02-09T22:07:00.000-08:00

I really think this picture says it all.

I spent the entire day at Highland Coffee's, reading this here book. And I have to write an incredibly short paper about it. Why is this a bad thing?

Cause the book is 583 pages long in itty bitty type and I have only 2 1/2 pages (or 750 words, to be exact) to critically rip it apart. How on earth am I supposed to destroy this book in such little space.

The funny thing is, I actually liked the book. Potter accurately fulfills his thesis in showing that the lead up to the Civil War was not a methodical march. Rather, it was a chaotic, confusing time. He argues that historians depend too much on hindsight for synthezing complex events.

I mean, that's all fine and dandy, but isn't history itself dependent on hindsight? With it, it's just journalism from the past.

Anyway, I don't look forward to writing this short paper. On the bright side, if I were to activate paper mode, it'd be done in 25 minutes. The problem is using paper mode for such a small assignment isn't really worth the recharge time. Oh well, that's a problem for tomorrow.

Well, Laters

(In case it isn't obvious, I now know how to use my Macbook's internal camera. Expect more pics, I suppose)

Not Unto Us, O Lord

2008-02-08T12:58:00.000-08:00

It's truly not about us.

I mean, sure, great things can be done through us. But at the end of the day, we're just the vessel for what's actually being used. We're nothing but the warped, damaged, and inferior cups that something greater moves through. We see the great and amazing things God has done for us and through us, but we're nothing but accessories to the event.

And yet, somehow, it's all to easy for us to get caught up in the hype. To believe our own merits instead of what's truly vital. To have an air of superority over our comrades in faith. To see our station in life and believe that we're honestly better than everyone else out there. Just because God has blessed you doesn't mean he has blessed anyone any less. Even the littlest and seemingly most forgotten has still been blessed by God.

One of, if not my all-time, favorite poems is "Non Nobis Domine!" by Rudyard Kipling. It happens to address the matter in such elegant brevity that I feel like it can better express what I'm trying to say better than a long drawn out post. But of course, a bit of background

Rudyard Kipling was a ridiculous author. Not only did he write books such as "The Jungle Book," he was also a great poet, writing such classics as "You'll be a man, my son" and the ingeniously ambiguous "White Man's Burden" (This poem and I go way back. Ask me about in person since the actual story wouldn't fit into this post). Anyway, Kipling wrote this for the English Parliament prior to their meeting in 1934. (Remember: he wrote this to be played before Parliament meeting for their session. Good thing England has no separation of Church and State)

NON nobis Domine!—
Not unto us, O Lord!
The Praise or Glory be
Of any deed or word;
For in Thy Judgment lies
To crown or bring to nought
All knowledge or device
That Man has reached or wrought.

And we confess our blame—
How all too high we hold
That noise which men call Fame,
That dross which men call Gold.
For these we undergo
Our hot and godless days,
But in our hearts we know
Not unto us the Praise.

O Power by Whom we live—
Creator, Judge, and Friend,
Upholdingly forgive
Nor fail us at the end:
But grant us well to see
In all our piteous ways—
Non nobis Domine!—
Not unto us the Praise!

I don't think I can say it any better. I know this looks somewhat like lyrics, but trust, it's much more than mere lyrics.

Well, laters

Skype is the Greatest Thing Ever

2008-02-06T21:35:00.000-08:00

I just got skype, and it's awesome.

How had I never heard of this before?

I also got some good family history from Censuses. Turns out the Tully's were here before the Potato Famine. I found my Great Great Great Grandfather, a Lovie Tully, who was born in South Carolina in 1811. Yeah, his name was Lovie. And there was a Lovie jr. However, the Tully son I was most interested in was William Tully, who fathered Omega, the previous last link in the Tully line. So there you go.

Also, if anyone out there has skype, hit me up with some user names. Mine's plainly obvious.

Well, Laters

Facing One's Fears

2008-02-05T12:56:00.000-08:00

So I'm sitting here in Highland Coffee's, enjoying the free wifi, when it hits me that I haven't updated in a while. So I guess I owe it to you all. Plus, I don't want to start my reading assignment just yet.

So the Tully household has become one of multiple languages recently. George and Bev have decided to attempt to learn Greek before their big trip this summer to the country. Despite being told repeatedly by Alex that learning Greek wouldn't be too much of a necessity, they have decided to learn enough of the language to be effective tourists.

In addition, I have decided to face one of my fears/weaknesses head on. As you may or may not know, I have three crippling weakness in the realm of Academia. The first is my inability to spell. Indeed, the lowest grades I ever got in my life were in Elementary School for spelling. I still can't spell very well. If it wasn't for spell check, I seriously wouldn't have passed Middle School, let alone College.

The second is my handwriting. My penmanship is awful. I mean, it's beyond incredibly bad. I remember during the LSAT, the section of the test that took me the longest was the writing of the oath in cursive. It took me like 15 minutes to write out that stupid paragraph. And the whole rest of the testers had to wait for my slow self to write that garbage. I suppose I overcame that by becoming fairly computer literate. It also gave me a fail-safe reason to never let anyone borrow my notes, since no one could read them. I mean, the only thing I know how to write in cursive is my name, and even that is suspect. Also, my printing of letters is equally awful.

My final weakness is the one I decided to finally face recently. Foreign Language is my kryponite. I simply can't do it. It's irrational, it makes no sense, but if there's anything in a foreign language, I freeze up. Don't get me wrong, I have a working knowledge of Latin from my law/everyday life background, but speaking or listening and comprehending? Forget about it. But, it has come to me recently that in order to get a Ph. D, I'm going to have to gain mastery of another language.

So yeah, all the schools require it.

Anyway, I decided to start with the most challenging and foreign language I can think of. That's right, Chinese.

So pretty much the house has become a hodge-podge of different languages. It wouldn't surprise me if Maximus started to learn Russian or something.

Well, Laters

I Got Mad Love for My Brothers

2008-02-02T20:37:00.000-08:00

So needless to say, I love the Macbook. I also really like Wifi. I have discovered some of the most amazing youtube videos ever.

The one that I have a special place for is the "Shawreth Follies 2007" 1st place winning skit. I wrote/directed the Follies skit for most of my time in College. This was the first year I had no direct or indirect involvment in making it.

And it's amazing.

It also has the most ridiculous step dance we've ever attempted. I don't spoil anything, but there's a move done that's now legendary. Also, to see one of our sweethearts in the big middle of the fray was amazing.

So now everyone at HPC can see what my stupid looking step dancing I did freshman year looks like when there's a bunch of people doing it. Not the same exact dance (no 'slide, slide') but you get the idea.

Link, of course:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WyZzir4bQP4

Well, Laters

The Post that Finally Happened (Stupid Fed-Ex)

2008-01-30T08:55:00.000-08:00

I'm writing this on my brand new Macbook! I'm fairly psyched.

Of course, I have no idea how to do anything on it yet. If anyone out there is very Mac savvy, I could use some tutoring.

Well, Laters

Good News, Everyone!!!

2008-01-29T21:29:00.000-08:00

Okay, I was going to write about something different, but this bit of news overwhelmed everything else.

I have a new Little Brother!!! And even cooler, I already know him!!!

Of course, I am talking about Shawreth. In a post a few days ago, I showed a picture of my full lineage at my senior year. I also made mention that in that year, I got a new little brother, Ben. Ben was a senior when he rushed, but stayed on as a grad student. He in turn got a little brother, Nathan Van Horn, who was also a senior when he rushed. I thought that extension of the line ended there, since I assumed Nathan had graduated and not taken on a little brother. (The other side, the Mark side, is going on fine.)

So imagine my surprise when I get an IM from a guy that a had Sociology with senior year, who says that I'm his Great Grand Brother. After doing a little bit of geneological work, I find out that Nathan did indeed take on a Little Brother for the first semester of his 5th year as a senior. (Technically, he was a 4 1/2 year senior, since he graduated in December) And that Little Brother was indeed Sonny Norton, the aforeto mentioned guy in Sociology.

It was great to catch up with the newest member of my family. Man, I know this is gonna sound so stupid to everyone out there in Blog land, but my excitement is geniune. Sonny is my Great-Grand Brother. The line continues on both sides!!!!

Well, Laters

Aggrovation for Good Things

2008-01-28T22:13:00.000-08:00

Today was fairly aggrovating. First, my massively huge paper I had to write on Abolitionists was cancelled. Good thing I hadn't gotten too into the paper. I had, on the other hand, read the book and taken tons of notes on it. So at the least, I'll be prepared for class. Still, I like writing papers, and nothing's more frustrating than having an awesome one mapped out in your head and then finding out you don't need to write it.

Second, after eagerly tracking my shipment on FedEx, my Macbook was in Baton Rouge and on the truck to be delivered. I spent the entire afternoon at home waiting, since it said they'd be there sometime before evening. I hear nothing. I finally check the door, and there's a note from FedEx, saying that they tried to deliver the package, but no one was here. I WAS IN THE HOUSE!!! I didn't hear a knock, door bell, truck, nothing. So I suppose they'll try again tomorrow, when nobody's going to be home. As long as they don't leave it with Maximus, I'll be happy.

Thirdly, I must admit that today I read a most extrodinary book. Have you ever read a book and got angry at the author for seemingly stealing your thoughts verbatium? Like everything you've ever wanted to say about a particular topic but haven't been able to find the words for is right there in print? Or the irrational thought that someone has somehow heard the conversations you had with only a few people who you believed didn't have recording devices and used that transcript to write a book? But mainly, it's relief that someone else out there feels the way you do?

The name of the book is "The Culturally Savvy Christian" by Dick Staub. His basic idea is that as Christians, we are called to be creative and a driving force in the culture in general, not just the pigeon-holed "Christian" subculture. His epitath which is repeated throughout the book is that "The culturally savvy Christian is serious about faith, savvy about faith and culture, and skilled in relating the two."

He charges that for the most part, Christianity has been watered down and prepackaged into a form he calls "Christianity-Lite." Gone is the immense depth and intellectual possiblities in faith in Jesus. Instead, it's been condensed into a irrational, emotional experience. He shows how the driving force behind the Evangelical movement in the late 20th Century has been commerical in tone. Consider how the primary indicatior of a "sucessful" church is how many butts are in the seats, not the strength, growth, and health of the members' faith. Belief in Jesus no longer requires knowledge of the Bible, or even reading it for that matter. Heck, one doesn't even need to follow his teachings or believe him to be sin-free. He claims that the church is actually sick while we are content to claim that it's at the height of it's power. A church that's thousands of miles long, but only a few inches deep.

However, there is hope from this dire situation. Basically, by taking the example of God being creative (which he totally is, I mean, in order to be a Creator, one must be Creative. Same root word) we can change the current status of culture. He charges us to be an artist who is deeply Christian, not Christian Artist. He uses the example of C.S. Lewis as a culturally savvy artist. One who realized the time and culture he was apart of, but didn't live amongst it, yet still communicated to people God's love on their own terms. We are called to be innovators, not mimics of the world around us, just adding a couple of Jesus' and calling it "Christian." We should be the ones leading the artistic culture, not just ripping off what's popular.

He also accurately skews the Christian artist who labels their work of religious to gain acceptance if their work cannot stand on its own merit. And I'm sure you know that music is a big deal for me. I look at people like Bach, who created masterpieces every week for the church. At one point in time, there was no higher calling than a commission to create something for the church. Now it seems all we've got is the leftovers of self-righteous and vain-glorious fakers. People who don't know theory, for crying out loud. People who can't take critism since "it's their calling." And all too often they are more than happy to "sell-out" once they gain mainsteam attention. The same culture they claim to be opposed to. Staub quotes Hank Hill (from "King of the Hill") as a great example of what it does to the art form. When Hank's son Bobby decides to join a Christian rock band: "Can't you see, you're not making Christianity better, you're just making rock 'n' roll worse?"

We are called to make exaulting, glorifying works for out Creator. There is fulfillment in creating a uniquely individual work. Yet at the same time, there is even more fulfillment in living in a community of arts, each of which are advancing towards the same God in their creative work. Staub uses the classic example of the Inklings as a artistic community of believers. Their works weren't just horded, they were shared, critiqued, torn apart. But because of this, they were made stronger. Just as I used to let Becky read my papers a couple of days before they were due. Sure, it hurt for her to make her red pen marks all over the place, but at the same time, my final copy was a lot stronger because of it. And out of the Inklings came some great pieces of literature. I mean, it's cliche to like C.S. Lewis and Tolkein, but they seriously wrote some amazing pieces of literature. Stuff that was only fostered by this artistic community they formed. Tolkien was called a fool for writing "Lord of the Rings" by publishers, they found it too long and obscure. Yet he solidered on. And take your pick on Lewis' stuff, all of which were considered "too religious." (Random cool fact about my brother-in-law. His dad was a student at Oxford during this time and had both Lewis and Tolkien as professors. As a child, Alex had signed first editions of their works and didn't know anyone else in the world read the books that his dad's old professors wrote. At their wedding, Michael, Alex's dad, told me humorous story after story of having them as professors. My personal favorite was what C.S. Lewis said about Tolkien after they walked into Lewis' class after a rather boring lecture of Tolkien's. Lewis, who was known for standing on the desk and yelling at them in class, candidly said that "he'd rather eat broiled baby then listen to one of Tolkien's lectures." I thought it was awesome.)

Anyway, back on topic, this Dick Staub character has written down everything I've ever thought about the current state of Christian culture and has it published. I'd highly recommend it to anyone reading.

Well, Laters.

Icons: Both Modern and Ancient

2008-01-27T20:31:00.000-08:00

So I haven't been as regular in my updates as I once was. Sorry bout that. I can only lay the blame at the feet of my new-found desire to read and write papers for class. And let me tell ya, I can write me some papers. Problem is, I do my best writing late at night, which also happens to be when I normally update the blog. Now granted, I could engage Paper Mode everytime I have to write a paper, but I'm afraid I'd burn myself out rather quickly. Anyway, I'm writing now.

I know I've mentioned my brother-in-law a couple of times before, but I don't think he's ever been given a proper introduction. Alex is married to my sister, ergo he's my brother-in-law. He's a foreign nation who met my sister while she was living in England. He has the honor of being rather interesting in his hertitage: His mother is Greek, his father is Irish. He grew up all over the world and has somehow been wrangled in by my sister. The two of them now reside in Baton Rouge, but spend a good chunk of the year overseas.

Anyway, being half-Greek half-Irish means that Alex gets all the cool aspects of both cultures. Everyone likes Irish people and Greeks are generally seen as cool, especially for their Gyro sandwiches. (It should go without saying that when we all dine together for Sunday lunch, more than half of the time, it's at Albasha's. Though I think I mentioned that once before. The whole Tully clan loves Albasha's. Whenever my brother's in from NYC, he has to go to Albasha's.
If you don't love Albasha's, something's wrong with you) Also, Alex gets a double dose of irrationally hating other groups of people. Though he's kidding, it's fun to watch him get riled up against the English and the Turks, both of which have done grevious things to his twin native cultures.

Now when Shea and Alex took their traditional trip to Greece this Christmas to see his mother, I asked him to pick me up something cool and Greek. Being that I am an admitted massive history dork who watched "300" a little to interestedly, I wanted something that was Greeky. Granted, he told me that it was highly unlikely that he'd be able to find like Spartan war helmet, he'd see what he could find.

I had kinda forgotten about my request, but the other day Alex presented me with two items, which are way cooler than anything I could have hoped for.

The first is a pair of "Evil-eye worry beads." It's a Greek tradition. It looks like a small pair of rosery beads, except minus the cross. Basically, you count your worries on the beads and swing them around, which disperses them away from your person. I've carried them around, and they're nice as something to keep your hands occupied whilst bored

The second is much, much cooler. It's a Greek Orthodox Catholic religious icon. In combination painting and metal engraving, it depicts St. George slaying the dragon. Yeah, I wasn't too aware that St. George was actually Greek, but it turns out he was. (Well, if you want to be exact, he was from a Greek-speaking area of modern day Turkey. But at the time it was Greece. And along with every other country in the world, they claim him as their own.) It's small, designed to be hung above one's bed or something.

It got me thinking about icons in general. How people view them as sources of strength. Not that the icon itself is holy, since that would be an idol, but how belief in what's behind the icon is what's holy. No one would rightfully believe in the simple picture of St. George to save them, but the same spirit that protected St. George would save them. It's a reminder of faith.

But I started to think about modern icons. Crosses, those old "WWJD" braclets, Bible verses hung in a house. These items serve as reminders, reminders of what God has done and will do. No one believes that a WWJD braclet will save them, but they'll believe to the death that Jesus will.

And then I started to think about what icons I have in my own life. I've mentioned the Shawreth towel, which to me represents my brothers and the committments I made to them and God. I have my Kris, a gift from the history department my senior year. Yes, my namesake, the Kris. As in "Stu, Da Kris." Or shortened to "Studakris." To me, that is acknowledgment from my professors and fellow students of my scholarly efforts. It represents my capacity and ability, as long as I keep myself sharp. I have a box given to me by my brother when he left for college and I was like 6. In it are a bunch of coins and stamps. In addition, I've used it to hold my Shaquille O'Neal card collection. It sorta represents that maybe my brother wasn't a total tool to me when we were growing up, and that we'll always have a biological connection.

There's some other stuff. I have the "Most Famous Picture" ever, the infamous shot of Corrie's reaction to happy. (Old story, I got her diamonds on the first date, her dad was livid. Sadly, that was our only date and she's happily married now. But I'll always be the first guy to buy her diamonds.) In addition, I have her happy for me, a shoe box she decorated with Shawreth stuff. I suppose that's another Shawreth memory.

But honestly, I think pictures are my go to icon. It shows who's important to me. In addition, they're easy to tote around. I had a number of them while I was at MC of home stuff, like Maximus. And now that I'm at home, I have a lot of MC, just to remind me of the time I spent there.

So though I mocked people who did that in a previous post, here's some pictures!

My Brother, the ridiculously talented

Maximus, The greatest doggie ever!!!

Okay, This is a shot of Phi Alpha Theta (the history honor society) Representing. More importantly, it's the best shot of me and Robbie ever taken. Lake's the dude on the right, he's cool, but he's no Robbie. "Downtown" Robbie Brown, we were the tag team domiant force in history. "My other half" as dubbed by our professors. I miss this kid.

I've mentioned Adam before (he's got the tumor) Here's a shot of us in much goofier days. He's a fighter and I know he's gonna beat this cancer. (Quick Update: He started chemo a little while ago. That's about all I know as of late)

This is actually one of the proudest moments of my life right here. After waiting 4 years to get a full bloodline, this is my entire Shawreth bloodline, the strongest bloodline in Shawreth. I'm the patriarch of this little group. From left to right it's: Elliot Yates (My Great-Grand Brother, wonderful singer and all around guy) Blake Harwell (My Grand Brother, Beau of one of the girl's clubs.) Me, Mark Melton (My Little Brother of 3 years. He's now a language teacher in France), and Ben Ivey (My Newer Little Brother of only a few weeks when this picture was taken. He's a brilliant artist) Yeah, this is hardcore pride right here.

Each of these shots remind me what's important in my life, as well as giving others a glimpse. In short, they all accomplish exactly what an icon's supposed to do.

Well, Laters

Miles and Miles of Glory

2008-01-24T21:44:00.000-08:00

So remember those long rambling posts I used to do often but haven't done as much lately? Well guess what, here comes a super large one.

Today was able to meet a most interesting fellow. While at Highland Coffee's, my companion for the afternoon (The Amazing Miss Spera, who happens to comment on this blog occasionally) happened to notice a rather "cute looking old man" sitting by himself. He appeared to be staring into the distance, almost like he was waiting for someone to come and sit down, but not knowing if they'd ever show. He had these really piercing eyes, and he was staring intently, but they seemed sad. To be honest, he looked like he was quite lonely. He was dressed dapper, but they were the relics of another time. Anyway, he happened to pass by where we were sitting and she took the oppurtunity to engage him in conversation.

He had a very soft and low voice, barely audiable about a whisper. I was able to make out that his name was "Miles." Other than that, I couldn't hear a word he was saying, though I was able to get a fairly decent idea based upon Natalie's responses. Anyway, after talking about Miles for a while, he turned the tables and started to ask about her. Of course, she told him about her upcoming sojurn to Africa, where she will doing missionary work. She asked if he knew Jesus, and he gave a very soft reponse. I later found out that he said something to the effect that "He once knew Jesus, but Jesus' face was no longer on him."

Honestly, my heart broke in a kajillion (it's an actual number, look it up) pieces for this guy. I know I've mentioned the idea of the "Bui-Doi" a couple of times on this blog, but seriously, it's so sad. It must be miserable to live like that, thinking that God's given up on you. I don't know the circumstances that got Miles to that point. I mean, we've all had tough spots in our life. It's not a crystal stair, to quote Langston Hughes. But still, what makes us so different to not simply give up on life? To not feel like we're completely forsaken. Nothing can stop God's love for us, but we can choose to ignore it.

What I would give for Miles, and those like him, to have a moment of clarity.

Just to see past the clouds. Realize just how much Jesus never turned his face on us. It says in the Bible that nothing on the earth, above the earth, or under the earth, can seperate us from God's love. And that includes ourselves. Like Mike Haman said tonight, God knows our deepest darkest secret, and STILL thinks that we're chock full of potential.

And I think people like Miles or Big George, my grandfather, who may think God gave up on them, still have hope. Like I've said numerous times before, and I'll say a million times again: "I'd rather err on the side of God's grace than His judgment." I believe God can see through the circumstances, see past the hellish war and fiancee who died too young in the case of Big George. Or whatever happened to Miles to make him feel so despondant. I think God sees Big George as (jeez, I'm tearing up here) the man he once was. The man I only saw pictures of. The man my father never knew. That bright-eyed, handsome, young man looking to take on the world. The one who was once so committed to church. The man who hadn't yet given up on the world.

Cause even in the deepest pits, I believe that what once was can shine through. Despite thinking God had forsaken him, my dad vividly remembers Big George making sure he and his brothers went to church every Sunday, even though (okay I'm sobbing now) he wouldn't go in those doors himself. I see the good in my dad, the drive to be the best father in the world, that only came about cause his own father was so rotten at times. Even though Big George always felt my dad threw his life away for music and blind children, and didn't support him at all, he still listened to recordings of my dad's concerts. And even though he was a wretched, verbally abusive drunk to his own children, Big George never had a drop of alcohol when grandkids were around. Jeez, the fact that he even had my siblings and I around is amazing, considering how rough he and my dad were. And every Christmas, dad would get him some sort of Christian book. And I'm fairly certain he read those, even though he'd have nothing to do with church. I remember at Big George's funeral, when afterwards, Aunt Dixie (Big George's sister) told us about he had gotten baptized when he was a teenager. And that he once was super active and devout. It was just life that stopped him. (Okay, I'm really boo-hooing now. I'm such a wuss)

And so I see people like Miles, and I can't help but think of Big George. To have someone who thinks that their life is beyond repair. That not even God can help. But I think in spite of that, in spite of our jaded circumstances, I think God can see in spite of ourselves. In spite of our best efforts to cover up the pain through liquor, or remorse, or whatever. God doesn't cause those kinds of circumstances to occur, but he can move through them, even if we choose not to.

I often wonder if Big George ever got his moment of clarity. I hope he did. I hope he saw how good his son made it, in spite of the fact that my dad forsook money and power for his passion of music and helping children. The fact that my dad was an incredible father. The fact that my dad never gave up on him, and kept trying to reawake those old convictions that were once a part of Big George's life. Yes, life took a tragic turn with the death of his fiancee after waiting through an entire war to marry her, but life didn't end there. In spite of Big George's best efforts to squelch it, God and his old person came though. Why else would he be so hellbent to get his children to go to church? The same church he had no respect for?

But this whole question of why some of us are able to get over tragedy, while others of us are so crushed, was running through my mind when I went to "The Hub." And I know the post is about to make a strange turn here, so this is about as good as a segway as you're gonna get. Anyway, one of the songs (I ordinarily can't stand P&W music, but I decided to stay) I can't remember the name, was talking about the glory. And really, that's what it's all about.

Glory. Of course, knowing me, my mind immediately went to that Kanye West song also called "The Glory." But seriously, what is this glory that we give it all for?

Glory is not popularity. Glory is not applause. Glory is not the esteem of others. But it's somewhat related to all three. Webster's says it's "praise, honor, or distinction extended by common consent." But I have my own definition. Glory is that awareness in your person after you have totally spent yourself in pursuit of an otherwise unobtainable goal. My picture of glory is that of a prize-fighter or a gladiator, who has totally given all himself for the fight, having not an ounce of strength left, standing victorious before a crowd. It's displacement. It's the whole world acknowledging what you've always known for yourself. But it's not cocky, you're too spent to be cocky. It's that feeling you get after you've just totally out-rhymed some guy on the mike. Everyone else is cheering your name, but you've got nothing else to say. It's taking curtain call and having the audience demand an encore and throwing flowers at you, but you know that you have nothing left to give, the show is over. Basically, my idea of glory is the public acknowledgment of your private sacrifice. Breathing that rarified air on the mountain top.

And God is a glory fiend.

And why shouldn't he? Consider all that he has given. If God never did another thing ever again, just let the earth spin on it's own, like the Deist worldview, he'd still be worthy of our eternal praise. God gave his son, God sacrifices of himself to keep us relatively happy. He will stop the sun from setting for one of his children. He has provided numerous miracles everyday that we often overlook. And it's all in his impeccable sense of timing. (I know it's been harked upon to death, but consider my recent grad school. It's only through him that the timing worked out so perfect) And often times, he sets it up so it's so blatantly obvious that it's him.

Consider this relatively old illistration: (It's a bit contrite, but I like it a lot) In math, there are variables. One variable is pretty easy to figure out. Two's a little tricky, but it can be done with some graphing paper and a pencil. Three variables requires a calculator with an X, Y, Z axis capacity, but in theory can be attempted by trig students. Four variables needs a fairly sophisticated computer. Only our most powerful computers can attempt five variables. Six or more? Forget about it.

And yet, God manages to cordinate an infinite number of variables constantly everyday, making sure each ensures his glory. I mean, think of Joseph in Genesis. 200 years before his birth, the Hyksos invaded Egypt and took it over. It was because of this invasion that the Pharoah at the time was sympathetic to Joseph, since the Hyksos were Sematic in orgin. It'd be like going to Mongolia and finding out that the king of Mongolia was from New Roads. Plus, the whole bit about him getting sold into slavery and getting sent to jail on false pretense. But seriously, 200 years before Joseph's birth, God was already arranging things so that Joseph could be elevated to such a lofty postion, and give God the glory.

It says that our God is a jealous God. He is jealous for the ones he loves. And he is jealous for getting his own glory. Think of the Old Testament generals who got smited for not offering the correct sacrifices. God doesn't want us to take credit for what he has done. And who are we not to give it to him? By giving him credit, and defering the spotlight from us, our own misgivings and faults are not in play. We're not perfect, but if we show off the one who is, our own imperfections fall by the wayside.

Anyway, I hope Miles eventually realizes that Jesus has never taken his eyes off of Miles. That God forever loves him, whether he feels worthy or not. That God's always been there, whether he likes it or not. That he's not just Bui-Doi, even if the world just sees him as an old man waiting on someone who will never come. I also have faith that Big George saw God moving through his life, even though a large part of Big George died right after the war. But most all, I hope that I will continually do it all for the glory. Not my own, but for the who really matters.

Well, Laters.

Baby Text

2008-01-23T17:07:00.000-08:00

I've got a new cousin!

Maddox Palmer. 8 lbs, 13 oz. 21 inches. Mother and child are doing well. (This is my cousin Jamie's kid, so it's like a first cousin once-removed, but still it's family)

Being at the library today during the onslaught of kids, as well as Maddox's birth, reminded me of my own youth. In particular, what books I used to check out from the library. Actually, from the age of 3 to about 6, I only had one thing on my mind. Dinosaurs.

I vividly remember telling my preschool class at Arkansas School for the Blind (where I was the only sighted kid in the class and they made fun of me) that when I grew up, I wanted to be a Paleontologist. While all the other kids wanted to be firemen or whatever, I was dead set on getting into Paleontology. I read pretty much every dinosaur book ever written at that time, both children's and adults.

And I'm not just talking about Triceratops or T-Rexs or other kiddy dinosaurs; more like Deinonychus antirrhopus and Styracosaurus albertensis. And yes, according to my parents and my siblings, I knew their scientific names and would repeat them ad nausem at the drop of a hat.

It's funny, it's been years since I've read a dinosaur book, or had any real interest in them, aside for nostalgic fancy from my childhood. I find it hard to believe I ever was that interested in science, especially since I've grown to find the subject rather tedious and boring. But still, that's part of my life, and I can never get rid of it.

Still, it's gotten me thinking. Maybe this evening I'll crack open one of my old big books of dinosaurs and lose myself once again for the first time in years. There's something to be said for remembering the past, be it the Jurassic era or just 18 years ago.

Well, Laters

Man I Hate the Pats

2008-01-20T20:00:00.000-08:00

So today was a very nice and relaxing day. Great sermon, good times at Reg's surprise party, and a nice hunk of time to watch playoffs and read some Jacksonian Politics. I'm starting to get back into the swing of things. Yes, last night was the earliest I've ever had to summon Paper Mode, but I'm happy with the results.

Tomorrow I will be putting my beloved automobile in the shop to repair the broken right turn blinker I've mentioned before. It stinks, but if the worst of my woes is car repair, I'm the luckiest man on the planet.

Also, and much more happier, I will finally be ordering my Mac Laptop tomorrow. It's nothing too fancy, just something to cart to class and write papers on. I'll be using it almost 99.9% for word processing. Still, I might use the intergrated camera feature to post some random pictures of myself with this blog. (like other people I could name are so prone to do). I've heard nothing but good things about the little Macbooks, and I'm longing to use the OS again (I used nothing but Apples until High School. I've missed them). Other than that, I think I'm fairly spent. I swear longer post will be coming soon. Until then, enjoy a random picture of me attempting to carry Twiner during Informal:

Well, Laters.

Not A Braggy Post, I Swear

2008-01-19T21:46:00.000-08:00

Here's what I did today:

Got some desperately needed new shoes. They're pretty pimp taco. But that's fairly beside the point.

4:00- Went to Highland Coffees to finish reading my book on the"Transportation Revolution" (The one that was due the first day of class) I'm only about 1/3 of the way into it.

6:00- Somehow finish said 400 tome page. Go home

7:00- Engage Paper Mode for the first time in a long time.

10:00- Disengage Paper Mode. Have perfectly formatted paper

I suppose I have to explain Paper Mode. Paper Mode is the most mystical and magical of all my ablities. Sadly, if I was to be a superhero with what I already pocess as a mortal, baring radioactive spiders, that'd be my power. Paper Mode is a mindset I can place myself in under very certain circumstances, in addition, it has severe stipulations with it.

In order for Paper Mode to be invoked, I have to be at a computer, headphones on, tunes blaring, and something to drink (usually caffinated, but not always). In addition, I have to have whatever material I'm supposed to be writing on in my lap. I also have to check my email and facebook before the power is fully called upon. There is a palpable moment when I cease ordinary functions, and begin Paper Mode.

During this trance, my mind is at complete capacity. All outside distractions are competely forgotten. I do not feel or notice anything at all outside of the writing. It's beyond mere Zen, I am one with the words. I do not notice such baser elements such as tempature or desire to use the restroom. I cannot stop, I cannot be distracted. Any attempts to engage me in conversation will go fruitless. I have been told on many occasion that I respond to direct questions with a bizarre "meowing sound."

However, despite the quirks, the results are undeniable, I can make some lengthy papers in short amounts of time. However, like I said, there are drawbacks. There is a lengthy recharge time period, about 36 hours. I also cannot exit the mode until the paper is finished, which is annoying when I realize that it's 3 in the morning and I am unable to give it up for a night.

Like I said, I don't engage this process for every paper, only in times of great need, such as tonight. I have to make up what I missed, even if it wasn't my fault. It's been time to hit the ground running with Grad School. I'm also pleased to see that it still works. And with that I'm off beddy bye.

Well, Laters

2008-01-17T19:51:00.000-08:00

This is gonna be short.

So I now know the true meaning of fear. It's coming into the 2nd section of a two part class, not knowing that a 7 page paper is due the first class meeting. Yeah, prof comes in, demands a paper. I thought he was joking, he wasn't. (The kids in it last semester already had a syllabus for the class. Not the new kid)

Needless to say, I'm writing some papers now.

Well, Laters.

Sunshine Through the Rain

2008-01-16T21:18:00.000-08:00

Today was cold, wet, and I had a flat tire on the side of the interstate during a freezing downpour. This caused me to be late to work, my attire haggard from the elements

And I still couldn't be happier.

Sure, I'm going to have to get a new tire, in addition to the body work I'm having done. But it's just a car. And it only costs money to fix. I don't want to sound brash, but there's so much more out there to worry about.

But more importantly, I'm reading for class. I'm formulating ideas. I've got arguments stewing around in my head. The old juices are flowing. The Kris is back.

And no car problem can take that away.

Well, Laters

Short and Sweet

2008-01-15T19:51:00.000-08:00

Today was my first day of classes.

I am in love. It feels so good to be back.

I could go on and on about all the stuff that happened today, but I'll let you be.

I swear I'll get back to long philosphical rants in due time

Well, Laters.

Lessons From The Morn

2008-01-14T19:51:00.000-08:00

So I learned some valuable lessons today:

1. LSU is a lot bigger than MC, but at the same time has the same size offices for important adminstrative causes.

2. If the Registar's claims that a class that you need is filled and there's no way for you to get in, just tell the secretary in the History Department, who can magically bypass the computer system with her mad hacker skillz and get you in a class with a 45 person waiting list.

3. The whole Bursar's/Registar's offices are nothing but a giant catch-22, requiring logical analysis to solve the puzzle. (You can't pay fees until you register for classes, but you can't register for classes unless you're paid up on fees. The answer: Darlene in the History Office)

4. It is impossible to look cool after your massive pile of textbooks has caused a shelf to buckle and collapse under the weight. In particular, if you are talking to someone when this occurance takes place, it is unlikely that you can continue the conversation naturally without losing all your Cool Points that you've accumlated over the years.

5. Graduate Seminar professors really like assigning a bajillion little paperback books. I got like 40 today, the most of expensive of which was $20. And yet I still managed to require some creative banking in order to pay for all my "required reading materials."

6. There is only one way to take a Student ID card picture. Big stupid open-mouthed grin on face with two thumbs up. Also, angle your head to the right a bit. I wish I could post my picture, cause it most certainly is sassy.

7. But most importantly, I learned that I'm still energized by the academic enviroment. It didn't really hit me until today, after I had paid out the wazoo for books and taken care of all my fees, that I'm actually less than 24 hours away. I suppose having that little piece of paper with my official schedule on it did the trick. Part of me thinks that I'm about to wake up, and this past week is going to be nothing but a dream. Like my life didn't really drastically change within the past 6 days. I know it's irrational, but still, it's like Christmas morning finally came.

Okay, that's a little sickening, I'm going to stop this subject matter.

I was able to have a rather nice lunch with my mother today at Byronz's. We had a long conversation about college experience and her memories of getting her degrees at LSU. She was eager to find out how I was going to go about "replacing Robbie" and the rest of my History Mafia kin. (Short answer, I'm not. That was lightning in a bottle. It can't be duplicated) She really seems proud of me. I've been blessed with two really awesome and supportive parents who both love God and each other. And what really makes this even more amazing is that they don't see it as that big of a deal. To them that's just what's supposed to be done. It's been a great example to me of just how a relationship is supposed to work. I'm blessed to have them in my life.

Well, Laters

Hope for the Losers

2008-01-13T20:48:00.000-08:00

I enjoyed this morning's sermon. Dino had a pretty good one about the value of the body of believers. The need for a Christian to be in fellowship with others in order to grow. It's pretty clear really, it's pretty much impossible to grow in any worthwhile capacity by ourselves. Yes, faith and religion are incredibly personal matters, but by the same token, man cannot exist in a vacuum. There is no way that we can completely severe ourselves from the outsider world, or our fellow believers.

It's interesting, one of the sermon points that Dino brought up was that a body of believers will attract outsiders just because of people's basic need to belong. It's funny, but I thought of cults. I mean, the desire for acceptance is so strong that people are willing to forsake their entire lives for a fallacy. Like that Heaven's Gate cult a few years back that killed themselves over the comet. I remember looking at the timeline of the cult, and for the most part, it sounded kinda appealing for an outsider. It was easy to see how it could be intoxicating. They went en masse to conventions and trade-shows, and had special screens of movies. Sure, that Applewhite character might be a grade-A nutjob, but we get to see "Star Wars" a month early. Or something less drastic, peer pressure, the whole clique thing. To be acknowledged as an equal by others is something we all desperately desire.

It's almost like we have a charge as Christians to be accepting and open to all the losers. To open our arms out to those that the world has rejected. The "Bui-Doi." Look at the apostles, a motley crew of fishermen, tax collectors, and religious nut-jobs. And those twelve men became the foundation of the Son of God's church. And as I've mentioned before, the only one of them with any sort of decent respectabilty and upbringing, was the one who betrayed them. (They trusted Judas with the money, ergo he must have been the one held in highest esteem by the others. Have you ever heard of anybody giving the money to the guy that they expected would betray them?) And great things can be done through losers, the ones that everyone else has given up on.

So here's to the dorkwads, the nerds, the socially inadept, the losers. There is a home and acceptance available to you. All that's required is for you to make that first step.

Well, Laters

I Promise This Will Be The End of My Endless "Super Happy" Posts

2008-01-12T20:16:00.000-08:00

So my fears about not being able to sleep were unfounded apparently, I was deep in slumber until after the noon-time hour. Just enjoying my last weekend of "freedom." It's funny, but it doesn't feel at all like I'm going to be lacking anything. Almost like I'm only a few days away from my prision release date. It hit me today that this Tuesday is going to be my 5th "1st Day at a new School" in my life. I mean, that's insanity. I have vivid memories of my first days at Elementary, Middle, High School, and College. Looking back, they were so awesome, after all the nerve-wracking butterflies go away. The chance to start over again, to have a clean slate. To be surrounded by a new enviroment, with the oppurtunity to learn new things, make new friends, have life-long memories. And it's all within my grasp.

One of my favorite quotes ever is by Helen Keller, who once said "Life is either a great adventure or it is nothing." I'm eager to once again have my life be changed. To begin a new chapter in my existence. Yes, I'll remember the lessons of yesterday, and the hopes of tomorrow. But at this very moment, the present, that is the moment that my focus must be upon. Life is meant to be lived. It has been said that the "unexamined life is not worth living." I say that's nothing but garbage. Life is the greatest gift ever given us by God. You aren't meant to just analyse the packaging of the greatest gift ever given. Rather, gifts are meant to be used. To be enjoyed. Think back to Christmas morning as a child and you just got the present you've longed for all year. Are you just going to let it sit in its box and read and reread the instructions? No. Do you think that your parents, the ones who gave you this gift, feel like you're getting the most out of it just by looking at it? Of course not. God has given us a much more valuable gift then mere toys. Even salvation, the supposed most important gift God ever gave the world, is simply the promise of eternal life. Life. Existance. Existance is not best expressed by merely living, rather it is to explore everything else God has given to us. To have that great adventure. To seize the moment, the most valuable thing we have.

It's too easy to long for a better tomorrow, or grow nostolgic for yesterday, but such things are mere folly. We can't do anything about the past or future, but we can do plenty right now. Want a better tomorrow? Start laying the foundation today. Wish that the past would return? Learn from it, and never lose that innocence. Know that you can return mentally to that place. That there's always the promise of that 21st night of September. (My "obession" with that date is fodder for a whole other post. It has a meaning, trust me, it does) Just don't let yourself grow stagnant and jaded to the world around you. I know I had gotten to place recently, and it's a struggle to remind myself to not dwell on things. I honestly thank God that I've gotten the wind back in my sails. To remind myself that when there's life, there's hope. That all I can do right now is indeed all I can do.

The world really is beautiful.

Well, Laters

Super Happy Bubble Pop Electric (and Stu makes a startling confession)

2008-01-11T20:14:00.001-08:00

So I attempted to wrangle my way through LSU uber-non-user-friendly PAWS system to register for classes. Needless to say, it didn't work out exactly as it should. It looks like I'll have to go down the department on Monday to straighten everything out. Plus, I supposedly got paid today, but the Liberry didn't do the direct deposit thing. So I'm gonna be paycheck less for a while.

And honestly, I couldn't care less. I mean, nothing seems to be able to stop my delirous happiness. Just like I felt I'd never feel happy again a week ago, I can't imagine not being this happy again. I mean, I don't anything could rain on my parade. I know I've always tried to live my life not letting circumstances really dictate my mood. Granted, it hasn't always been 100% successful, but you've got to try. But for real, this is the most honest, freeing, and complete sense of happiness I've had in a while. It's like contentment mixed with validation. Having everything you've ever wanted ahead of you, and finally seizing it. I don't want to sound foolishly spiritual, but it's like I've been waiting for this moment for my entire life. All this time that I've spent in limbo, stagnant, has just been starving me for the feast. To get me lean and hungry, as it were.

To have everything that you've always known confirmed, by something so simple. By something so minute, and yet means the world. And to have it happen so fast! My life has truly experienced a 180 in the past 3 days. It feels like both an eternity and 2 seconds ago when I first found out. Validation. Legitamacy. A chance to crush all before me. To feel the thrill of the chase. It's so hard to put that drive into words. That longing and desire to be the best you can be. To be challanged by others to make you strive for more. I know that I've said it before and I'll once again apologize for being a wussy, but it's a huge testostorone rush. THE MOST BEAUTIFULLEST THING IN THIS WORLD! IT'S JUST LIKE THAT!!!!!!! (I get in ya)

You want to know what this honestly feels like right now? I feel like I'm in a tunnel before like a football game or gladitoral match. I've gotten past all the training, I done my prep. All that's left in front of me is the tunnel, just waiting for the signal to go on the field and face my opponent. And who might this opponent be? That's a loaded question. I'll admit that a lot of it is the other students, (Well, the "inferior" ones. I'm bad about picking my co-horts academically and not caring too much about anyone else. Hence the whole "History Mafia" moniker. If you weren't one of us, you didn't have any place running with us. It's not exactly a clique, per se. More like a group of like-minded individuals who had a keen interest in historical scholarship.) But for the most part, my competition is me. Just myself. I've got to be the best Stu I can be. You can't spell Student without "Stu."

But by the same token, you can't spell Stupid without "Stu." I know that while this oppurunity is a gift, it's not garunteed. I've got to hold up my end of the bargain. And I know what it entails. I've always said that school comes easy to me, and there's a reason for it. Not that I'm super estudious or anything, but because I can get consumed by it. Okay, that sounded strange. It's like my job, my passion, what I do for fun. I've never skipped a class (unless I was sick, just to clarify). I've always done the reading, I've participated in every class discussion I've ever been a part of, no matter what the subject was. It all gets me so fired up, I love it. It's where I'm most at home. And that is the secret behind "why I've never studied," I've never needed to. Wow, I've just admitted the source behind all my "powers." Not like I'm some egotistical megalomaniac, but because what do I have to study for? What do I have to "cram"? I've already lived it, I've already defended my views on it, I've already absorbed and synthesized the information. What good would relearning it do? It's already in there.

So yeah, as you might tell, I am pumped. I mean, super pumped. There's only a few things left in my way, but trust, nothing's going to get in my way. I mean, I'm still the Kris, even if it's been left in its sheath for a little while, it's still incredibly sharp. Just 3 more days. I really hope I can sleep.

Well, Laters

Here It Is

2008-01-10T16:46:00.000-08:00

I met with Dr. Stater today.

I start Tuesday.

As in 4 days from now.

I know what classes I'm going to take.

This is it. I'm beyond pumped. Like I'm ready to bust out of the gates and begin to destroy anything in my path. A surge of academica.

I also had a very nice and long conversation with Bridget this evening. She was a semi-member of the History Mafia. (Her nickname, in case anyone is keeping track of this information, was "Dime Piece") Granted, she came in too late to really make that big of a difference in the manner in which things were run, but still made senior year very enjoyable. It just made me realize how much I missed everything. That type of camradre. To have that type of intellectual discourse. I know I'm sounding whiny, but I've been without it for far too long. I am ready to flex my muscles, as it were. I am so revved up, it's not even funny. I don't even know if I'll be able to sleep.

Well, Laters

Reved Up and Ready to Crush

2008-01-09T20:38:00.000-08:00

So yeah, tomorrow I got to LSU and talk with the advisor about what all I need to do to get squared away for classes. I'm so freaking exciting. It's hard to put into words. It's almost like returning back to your first love, it just feels right. Like law school and seminary and all the other junk I considered doing was just a substitute for the real thing.

I'm both eager and scared, if that makes any sense. I mean, part of me is scrapping and clawing, ready to jump back into the fray. It's hunger, I've got this ravenous hunger and it's driving me. It's a rush. I feel like leading a parade of elephants through the streets. Like nothing can stop me. I know this sounds dorky, but almost like a surge of testostrone racing through my veins. I finally get a chance to stretch my muscles again. To be challanged, in a sense (School was never much of a challange for me, but I always was driven to do more, the mere possiblity of the next hill driving me forward) I just want to pump my chest and yell out random phrases that have absolutely no meaning without extensive footnotes or being there in the first place when they were coined. (I know I'm gonna scream "IL DUCE DE DUCE!!" at the top of my lungs in some public place when someone enviatable asks me about how I feel about going back to school)

And yet, at the same time, I have this irrational fear that I might be rusty. That I could have lost my edge. That I'm finally getting what I've wanted for so long and I'm freaking out cause it's so soon. Sorta like what the Israelites must have felt after being freed from Egypt. I've waited so long for this day to come, and now what? I know I have no business doubting myself, but still, I'm afraid. I'm afraid that I'll be so hungry that I'll bite off more than I could chew. Or that in my eagerness to reprove myself, I'll go too far. But still it passes.

And now it's just the waiting game. I hope I can sleep tonight.

Well, Laters.

I Lose My Cool

2008-01-08T20:27:00.000-08:00

Today was incredible.

Yes, I got in late from NOLA, but it so worth it. The night was a blur.

I go to work, a little tired, but reved up.

Then I get the email that changes everything.

It's from the History advisior at LSU. I'm accepted. I get scholarship. I start like next week.

I am stoked.

The Kris is back! Il Duce de Duce! Mr. Lucas! History Mafia in the House! Senor Sexy Pants! Rapp Scallion! Big Poppa! Stu da Kris! (For real this time!!!) You think you may have seen Stu before, but get ready for Stu at 220%!!! Back to claim my rightful throne as the History Pimp! Founder of the STUdy session! The History Pimp, The Kris, Il Duce de Duce!

WOOOOOOO!

Well, Laters

Lemonade

2008-01-06T20:41:00.001-08:00

Have you ever had one of those days where everything started out wonderfully, but slowly descended into awfulness? Today just happened to be on of those days for me.

I woke up bright and early at the crack of 9:30 (which is insanely early for me. Generally, I like to sleep into double digits, unless I've got work or something like that) with the full intention of going to church. Yes, that's right, I was going to a Sunday Morning church service, quell surprise. (I feel I must reiterate at this point that I'm not a Godless heathen or anything, I just normally go to church on Saturday Evenings or some other non-Sunday service) Anyway, I went to church, and that was great. I didn't even cringe at the two gigantic historical innaccuracies contained in the sermon. I left church filled with all sorts of unrequited hope. I met up with my parents, sister, and brother-in-law for lunch at Albasha's.

I guess now's a fairly good time to acknowledge Albasha's, our most regular haunt for Sunday lunch. What can I say, between Alex, the actual Greek, and our love for falafels, we go to Albasha's at least once a month, usually more often than that. We even have our regular waiter, who normally doesn't even bother with taking orders since he knows exactly what we're going to order, both drink and food. (Here's the skinny. A order of falafels. Dad: Iced Tea and Combination Plate. Mom: Water and Chicken Tabuli Salad. Alex: Iced Tea and Lamb Shank. Shea: Lebanese Iced Tea and Vegetarian Plate with Hummus, Grape Leaves, Musaka, Spinach Pie, and Salad with no feta cheese. Me: Same as Dad) Plus at the end of every meal, when he brings out the boxes, he will always use one as a puppet to attack us.

Anyway, that aside beside, lunch was okay. Afterwards Shea, Alex, and I decided to take in a movie later that afternoon, since it had been a while since we last hung out. We decided to go see "Sweeny Todd" since Shea's a big musical, Johnny Depp, and Tim Burton freak. After that, it all went downhill.

Okay, I took Maximus for a walk, since I had some time to kill. That was nice. Of course, my iPod decides to malfunction, so that makes it a bit less great. I get home, drive off to Citiplace.

Here is where it gets aggrovating. I'm pulling into what I think is a big enough parking space. It's not. I hear a horrible crunching sound. I pull out. I hear a worse crunching sound. Of course, the other car is fine, but my right turn signal is beyond busted. Glass everywhere. Plus, I need some body work.

So I go into the movie, and some canadates for Parents of the Year have decided to take their two children under the age 6 to "Sweeny Todd." A "Super-R" rated movie. The entire time, the kids are asking why the man is stabbing people. Those two deserve the nightmares their kids will have tonight. And of course, the kids cry.

Anyway, my day was pretty awful. Granted, my car is not that big of a deal. As my mom always says "If you can fix your problem with money, then consider yourself lucky, it's not that much of a problem." I suppose I'll shortly be headed to a body shop to pay an exoribant price to fix my front end. And really, if that's what passes as a bad day, I'm a very lucky man.

We are told to rejoice in all things, and I actually see some good that came out of today. I learned a valuable lesson about parking I'm not likely to forget. Plus, I now have a prime example of bad parenting. And I got to have a nice long walk with my son, the greatest doggie in the world.

Not bad at all

Well, Laters

Rather Forgettable Musings on Writing

2008-01-05T20:27:00.000-08:00

I was able to write 8 pages today. That's a new record for "Non-start" writing. (Usually, I'll have an idea, type out about 15 pages or so, begin to lose steam or get frustrated at the tedious nature, and quit. This normally results in several half-finished documents littering my desktop, none of which, aside from "Crusader" I ever really work on again.) However, this long-going tradition has been shook up again.

Make no mistake, "Crusader" is still my magnum opus. It's probably the most epic in terms of size and scope of anything I've ever written. It is immeasurably personal to me, if that makes any sense. This book has been my baby for many years. In a manner of speaking, I've had those characters and situations living in my head for quite a while now. In my head, it is finished, it has been for sometime. And yet there is a mental block over the process. Almost as if I don't want to finish it right now. I don't want to finish it first.

Consider Orson Wells, he makes "Citizen Kane," and has nowhere to go but down. His career is never the same, everything he makes cannot compare to "Kane." I'm not claiming that "Crusader" is anywhere near as important as "Citizen Kane." Or as good for that matter. But it's still my baby. And I can't bare to fathom finishing "Crusader" and have nothing else I write compare to it. I don't want to be a "one-hit wonder" as it were.

So, to remedy the situation, I've decided to work more on some of my "Harrison" stuff, one in particular. The "Harrison" tales are a love letter to my time in college and the state of Mississippi, as it were. There was a lot of stuff I couldn't stand about that state. The blatant racism and willing ignorance spring to mind. But yet, at the same time, that seemingly toxic enviroment was responsible for nuturing some of the greatest and genuine people I have ever me. There is a juxoposition between the preception of the culture and the reality of the people who spawn from it. It's very bittersweet, loving the person, but hating what they represent.

Anyway, I started writing the first of the "Harrison" tales after a long discussion with Amber. We're not going to get into all that was said that night, but it brought up many questions in my mind. Anyway, one night's musing expanded into somewhere in the area of 5 different stories, each one of which has the potential to fit in novel form. Each covers an aspect of life, all of which emcompass my entire experience during that time in my life.

The one I've been working on primarily lately is actually one of the more recent starts. It's an homage of sorts to my pre-med brethren. Those that studied long into the night and forsook the pleasures of random college life. It's interesting, there was a sort of respect between us, even though in theory our futures would pit us against each other (I still had law school in my future.) But these guys were awesome. I mean, I'm talking about Qualls, for goodness sake. I respected their devotion to sacrificing fun and I guess they envied my ability to skate around life by the skin of my teeth. Anyway, this story, is about them. Yes, it's a highly fictionalized account of their futures, but I mean nothing but love.

Anyway, back to writing.

Well, Laters.

A Trifecta of Thoughts

2008-01-04T22:12:00.001-08:00

I guess today's posting will be short.

Ed's funeral was today. Aside from the giggles which resulted from the eulogizing pastor's description of Ed as "committed" and "serious," it was a somber affair. It's funny in a way to see a man's life summed up in such a brief fashion. His entire existence wrapped up in little over an hour. I wouldn't really call it sad, per se. I'm sure much sadder funerals are in my near future. It was just something to think about.

I got a message from John, one of my best friends from college who's now a pastor in Memphis. The head pastor of his church passed away the other day after a long battle with pancreotic cancer. While not exactly unexpected, this marks a major amount of responsiblity put upon John. He is now the de facto pastor of that church, in addition to being a full-time student in seminary. I know he is more than amply equipped for such a job, but it still is overwhelming. Well, let's just say I'm overwhelmed for him. I can't imagine having that much responsibilty being thrust upon me. A combination of youth, immaturity, and sheer irresponsiblity on my part, I suppose. Not that I wouldn't trust God in a time like that, but I'm SO not wired that way. Still, I know that this is the type of situation John has been preparing for ever since he felt called to the ministry. I was able to have a nice long conversation about the whole situation with him a while back. To hear his thoughts on the matter, in addition to his expectations, hopes, and goals for what he wants to accomplish during this time. I'm constantly amazed by the way in which he lets God work through him.

I've been pretty good about keeping up my resolutions. Most amazingly, I've been pretty militant about finishing one of my numerous unfinished book projects. It may not be too long when the sheer majesty of "Crusader" is unleased up on the world. Oh jeez, I can't comprehend actually finishing it. It's been bouncing around in my head so long, it wouldn't feel right to have it exist in actual printed form. Oh well, it'll be a while until it's actually finished. Still, that time is coming closer and closer, abet slowly.

Well, Laters

Could It Really Be That Easy?

2008-01-03T22:08:00.000-08:00

Since today was my day to cook supper, I had to undergo the traditional trip Calandro's to get supplies for the effort. Ever since I started cooking regularly, I've grown to appricate Colandro's more and more. Sure, it might cost a bit more than a regular supermarket. And the produce may not be as organic and attractive as Whole Foods. But still, it has its charm. I suppose its the idea of just running down the street to pick up whatever's needed. It's local. I've been going there for years. Ever since I moved back from Mississippi, Warren's been my constant companion. I don't think I could count the number of times we've gone down those aisles. He used to take a cab to and from the store, but has since found me both much cheaper than a cab and much better company. I really didn't think too much of it. Warren needed to go to the store, I needed to go to the store, we'd go together and save a trip. It's pretty simple. Or maybe not necessarily the store, we might go running errands together. It wasn't really a sacrifice or anything. Warren is Warren. It'd be like my dad or something tagging along.

Anyway, since his heart attack and all, Warren hasn't been able to accompany like he used to. Plus, with the crunch of the holidays and all, I haven't had the need to buy groceries. However, I needed to pick up a few things so I could try and replicate the spaghetti dish that Emily's mom made for the New Year's Eve party (Just a side note: I did. It was easier than I thought. And it was WONDERFUL) so a trip to Calandro's was in order.

When I walked in, it was like returning home from war. Whether I realized it or not, Warren and my regular visits didn't go unnoticed. Sure, we had our favorite cashier (Beverly, of course. Not my mom or anything, they just happen to share the same name), but that's about as far I as thought it went. Turns out it didn't. I got asked by about 3 workers where I had been for so long and where was Mr. Warren. I guess there's something about recongizing faces.

As I unloaded my basket at the cashier, Beverly asked where Mr. Warren was. Since she's more that quite an aquintence, I didn't have any qualms about informing her about Warren's condition. Of course, she was shocked by the news, especially since he's gone out of his way not to let anyone more. But she expressed gratitude that we'd been looking out for him. She remembered him taking cabs and stuff to get there, and liked it much better to see that I was looking out for him.

Of course, my immediate reaction was "It's nothing special. Warren's looked out for me for years. It's the least I could do to return the favor." She shook her head, kinda smiled a bit and said, "That's what it's all about" her eyes getting a bit misty.

And it hit me, could it really be that simple? Just returning the favor already given to you? The stuff I do to assist Warren isn't a duty at all. I mean, it's not a burden I wear. He's a friend, he's family. It doesn't addle me in the least. I wouldn't even call it devoition. It's just what I do. He's done a lot more to help me over the years than I could repay by just chauffering him around. Not to downplay anything, but it truly feels like nothing. I don't even question it, it's what I'm to do. I wouldn't even calling it assisting him, it just Warren.

I know it's cliche, but might it truly be so easy? Just look out for people? For the ones who seemingly can't be helped I mentioned yesterday, might it merely be a simple as just looking out for their best interests? Just giving them a leg up on stuff they can't do for themselves? I mean, Warren can't drive a car, so I occasionally give him rides. It's not a big deal for me. But I guess for him, it means not having to call a cab, wait for said cab, pay the fare, and making what should be a simple trip to the store into a several hour long affair. It literally requires nothing of me, I was going to the store anyway. Plus, I think I get more out of it since I greatly enjoy his company.

But the mentally disturbed homeless dudes I run into on a regular basis, might just the smallest gesture of making sure they don't do anything that could hurt themselves be it? These people can't fully comprehend the gravity of their actions, is it really so easy? Just to use my un-"psycho-crazy-paranoid" mind to think for them? For me, it's nothing to know "Hey, Major League Baseball isn't out to kill me. So I'm not going to threaten the police deputy." But it might not be so simple for them. Might it be as simple as hearing another human's voice telling them that "everything's going to be okay" really be enough? Could the moment of clarity I so desperately long for them to have be intertwined with knowing that another person in this world acknowledges their worth?

Or the foster kids, forgotten by the system. By just having an "adult" (Oh jeez, I'm a grown up, aren't I? I swore I'd never be an adult) listen to them. To not tell them to shut up and go away. Are my boring stories about college that that one kid asks me to repeat ad naseum actually inspiring him? Letting him know that there's a world available to him which is dependant not on his home life, but his brain? And that by reading and hanging out at the library, he's doing a lot to help him achieve that?

I know I've asked a lot of questions, and I don't know the answers to any of them. All I know is that our preception of a miniscule act can have effects lasting far beyond what we could imagine. (Katrina Clean-Up thought me that. Making up this stupid story about how a hawk flew in through an open window and turned my sandwich into shrapnel, exaggerating every detail, to an increasingly wide-eyed homeowner. She said that it was the first time that she laughed since before the storm. I thought it was just a dumb story about a hawk, to her it was a reminder that life would go on.) But still, can it really be so easy as to look out for those who are unable to?

Well, Laters

Reflections On Those Who Cannot Be Helped

2008-01-02T19:14:00.000-08:00

Today was, well, interesting to say the least. I'm still pretty freaked out by all the stuff that went down today. I'd rather not call into all the details, but let's just say I had a patron come into the library who disturbed me greatly. If ever there was a sign that the library is not supposed to be my career, this was it. If nothing else, it jump-started my initiative in heading towards "Nineveh" as it were.

It's funny, the term that I've used a couple times on this blog, "Bui-Doi," to describe this type of person is still a bit of a misnomer. I mean, in their own way, they have worth and purpose, even if the world treats them as little more than dust. I don't claim to understand why persons like that exist, or why life has dealt them this hand. It's heart-breaking, really. It appears that there mere existance is nothing but prolonged suffering. The fact that their mental state is at a point where such behavoir is acceptable and expected...I dunno, it just doesn't make any sense. That all they have to look forward to is paranoia and fear, it seems that a human being deserves more. And yet, it's almost like they're incapable of being helped. You can feed the hungry, you can clothe the naked, but what about those who's needs can't be met? There's really nothing you can do for someone who's outlook on life is so skewed, that they reject society. I mean, humans are social animals, and yet there are those who are incapable of interacting with their fellow man.

But they're still human, even if they're unable to have their needs met. And it's not their fault, they simply do not have the capacity to be "normal" as it were. Granted, I've know plenty of people who have overcome all sorts of physical disability, with blindness being the overwhelming leader. I know it's a little PC, but I know plenty of blindies (That's their name for each other, we're "sighties") that truly are "differently abled". They are able to be self-sustaining without their sight, they just happen to use different means. It's not really even a challenge to overcome, it's just the way things work, kinda like how some people speak English and some French. The manner in which they communicate is different, but they can get the same thought across.

But blindness is physical, and these people have mental instability. It hurts to be so powerless in such a situation. To have needs presented to you, but are unable to fulfill. I mean, any effort you make towards them can easily be misintrepreted and potentially be harmful to you. I don't have relationships with these people, and I probably never will. But like I've said before, they're human. They're my fellow man. I have much more sympathy for someone who had no control over their destiny than someone who made bad decisions and is responsible for their current mess. (Random tangent: I get very tired of watching perfectly abled people complain about their circumstances. I just want to slap them and go: "Look, you have two eyes that work! You can walk! You have a brain that isn't totally screwed up! You've got everything that you might need at your fingertips! And yet you still wanna win the "Sucks to be me" award?! I know plenty of blindies that would kill to be in your crappy set of circumstances!" But then again, I know I'm guilty of doing the exact same thing when things don't go my way) You want to help them, but you can't. It makes one feel impotent. Knowing that there's so much that needs help, but being unable to do anything. I wish I could go up to a random homeless guy at work off his meds and somehow be able to convey to him that someone cares, that the world isn't against him, that it's all in the mind. I know it sounds cruel, but I almost want to be able to tell some of the more extreme ones that "Look, the world barely knows you exist, let alone is set up just to being you down" as if that might somehow bring comfort and appeasement. I wish I could go up to the outcast from the foster home, who's being picked on by the other kids, and tell them "Hey, this isn't going to last forever." But then again, that very well could be a lie. I have no idea about these people's futures. All I know is that I see the needs that these people have, and can't do a thing about it.

It hurts to see so much suffering in your own backyard. The fact that you can live a normal and relatively happy life when there is untold pain just 5 minutes outside your door. But what makes it even worse, is that you can't do a thing about it. Granted, I recongize that there's plenty of oppurtunity to minster, but that's only for the ones that are ministerable. What of the outcasts? What of the "untouchables?" What of the Bui-Doi? I mean, is it even possible to convey God's love to someone who's beyond the point of understanding another human being?

Man, I'm coming off really depressing, aren't I? I suppose the only thing you can do in such a situation is pray for them. Pray that God extends his grace upon them. That they'll have the chance to have a moment of clarity. A moment in which they can gain some solice in their life. I remember sitting in on higher level Seminary class when I visited Truett last year. A "capstone class" as it were, as students in their final year sythesized their past 3 years. They were discussing some of the great theologians throughout history, and their various views on stuff. As the girl who researched the German theologian in which they were discussing finished her presentation, someone brought up the point that the man seemed awfully close to being a universalist. Of course, that accusation brought about a great debate among the class. After hearing the merits of all the various arguments, the professor summed it all up in one of the most beautiful pieces of belief I have ever heard. Basically what he said was that this theologian's belief system could be summed up in this axiom: "He'd rather err on the grace of God than His judgment."

And I truly believe that. Yes, I recongize that God abhors sin in all its forms, but at the same time, he cared enough to send his son. If that's not grace, I don't know what is. The fact that he cared enough for a flawed race to sacrifice the thing most dear to him, well, let's just say that it gives me faith in his ability to give comfort to those that need it. That he is able, and not just able, but willing to aid our fellow humans who's needs we can't fulfill. I believe that God loves all of his creations, and doesn't purposely create defective persons who are incapible of being redeemed. I know that somehow, even the most mentally disturbed individual will have that moment of clarity. So yes, I am willing to stick my neck out on this one and boldly proclaim that I'd rather err on the side of God's grace than His judgment. Heck, it's what I base my salvation on, when you get down to it.

So what am I to do with all these feeling stirred up inside me? Simple, I suppose. Keep heading towards Nineveh and be sure to help those that can be helped. Honestly, the fact that there is so much suffering around us that we are perfectly able to appease is shameful. It's not even hard to fulfill, and we can get so much out of it.

Well, Laters

A Somber Note

2008-01-01T18:50:00.000-08:00

Bad news comes in threes, I suppose.

This morning, I got word that Ed had passed away. It wasn't exactly a surprise since his health had been getting progressively worse as of late. Plus, he had hospice for a while now. Still, the shock is still real. It's hard to think that he's really gone.

I don't think I've ever mentioned Ed before. It's sad that his illness got pushed to the wayside in light of all the other junk (Adam, Warren) going around lately. Ed was a friend of my parents from church. He truly was quite a character. I vividly remember watching him light up the room with his sense of humor. Probably my fondest memory of Ed is him teaching me "the greatest pick-up lines you will ever hear" before a date I wasn't all that excitied to go on. It's still hard for me to repeat his "Hey Babee!" line with a straight face. He was also quite musical, being very handy on the guitar. I remember one time when he tried to have a jam session with my brother when Scott was down from NYC. He managed to keep up with Scott for about 3 minutes before throwing his hands up in the air in surrender.

It's funny, I'm almost glad. I mean, Ed's in a much better place. He no longer has to worry about his compounding health problems. He is no longer limited by this mortal coil. His flesh is finally at the same level of strength as his spirit. At this very moment, he's probably cracking corny jokes at the banquet table of Heaven.

But yet, at the same time, I can't help but feel nothing but the deepest scene of loss for his wife, Katherine. They were only married about 6 years, and both knew that their happiness together would inevitably be short-lived. Poor Katherine, she's still in her 40s and now twice a widow. Her first husband died of AIDS, which she also contracted from him. (There wasn't anything immoral about the circumstances in which her husband aquired it. He got it from a bad blood transfusion back in the 80s and she got it from him) I suppose when her and Ed got married, they assumed that she'd be the first to go, even though her HIV has long been in remission. Jeez, they were so happy together, it was almost a new lease on love for the both of them. So while I'm relieved that Ed is better off, at the same time, I grieve for Katherine. Some times life is just wretched like that.

A song I was listening to today really touched me about the whole situation. It contained both the joy and sorrow in the situation. Now, I know I promised to never post lyrics, but I feel that in this circumstance it is apt. So much of this song reminds me of Ed. (Just fyi, Irish drinking funeral songs are the best for remembering the good times for a recently deceased loved one)

"Body of an American" by The Pogues

The cadillac stood by the house
And the yanks they were within
And the tinker boys they hissed advice
'Hot-wire her with a pin'
We turned and shook as we had a look
In the room where the dead men lay
So big Jim Dwyer made his last trip
To the home where his father's laid

Fifteen minutes later
We had our first taste of whiskey
There was uncles giving lectures
On ancient Irish history
The men all started telling jokes
And the women they got frisky
At five o'clock in the evening
Every bastard there was piskey

Fare thee well going away
There's nothing left to say
Farewell to New York City boys
To Boston and PA
He took them out
With a well-aimed clout
He was often heard to say
I'm a free born man of the USA

He fought the champ in Pittsburgh
And he slashed him to the ground
He took on Tiny Tartanella
And it only went one round
He never had no time for reds
For drink or dice or whores
And he never threw a fight
Unless the fight was right
So they sent him to the war

Fare the well gone away
There's nothing left to say
With a slainte Joe and Erin go
My love's in Amerikay
The calling of the rosary
Spanish winde from far away
I'm a free born man of the USA

This morning on the harbour
When I said goodbye to you
I remember how I swore
That I'd come back to you one day
And as the sunset came to meet
The evening on the hill
I told you I'd always love
I always did and I always will

Fare thee well gone away
There's nothing left to say
'cept to say adieu
To your eyes as blue
As the water in the bay
And to big Jim Dwyer
The man of wire
Who was often heard to say
I'm a free born man of the USA"

Fare thee well Ed. We'll meet again. I'll always love you, I always did and I always will.

Well, Laters

2007 in Review (Serious Post)

2007-12-31T12:20:00.000-08:00

Now that I've gotten most of the "fun" things out of the way, it's time to be thoughtful for a while. I can't garantee how frivilous the retrospective is going to be, but I'll try to keep it as light as possible. No need to be all whiny emo.

On the surface, 2007 doesn't look like a year where much happened. I'm still in Baton Rouge. I'm still not in school. It appears that I'm still as stagnant as I was this time last year. As the year progressed, things seemed to get worse. People got sick, very sick. A number of people passed away. A funk appeared to lay itself atop of everything. Yes, there were simmering glimpses of life, but for the most part, the end of 2007 was glum.

But yet, as I look closer, underneath the surface, I see a great number of changes. I've gotten over a lot of my stereotypes and preconvied notions of different groups of people (Homeless, Evangelicals, Penecostals etc. Your run of the mill undesirables in general). It's an experience seeing past the Bui-Doi and seeing their hearts. Yes, you've got some incredibly broken people. People who life has spat out, the very dust of life, and yet, they're still alive. They still have faith, it's the only thing they've got. I feel both pathos and pride in their mindset. I seriously doubt that I'd have the same wherewithall if I was in their situation. One's faith has to grow when even your next breath isn't a sure thing.

I've gotten less complacent in my circumstances. At the beginning of the year, I was willing to just live my life in the past, letting my previous laruels continue to speak for me. But now, I realize that in order for me to be the best possible Stu I can be, I've gotten to never lose that hunger. Complacency breeds lukewarmness and averageness. I cannot allow myself to live life like that, hoping that the meals of years gone by continue to nurish me. I must have that insatiable hunger to always want more than my surrondings. To drink deeply from that cup of knowledge and pull my lips away, wanting more. It's continually proving yourself, not to God, but to those around you, letting them know God's place in your life. I know I don't have long range plans, I never have, probably never will. I prefer to live in the now, the present. But so often, it's easy for me to long for the past, for the people and circumstances that once made up my life. But that phase of my life is over, it can never be the way it was. And frankly, I've come to grips with that. Yes, we can return to that night in September, but it's never the same experience everytime. I don't want to go to waste, to be the Miss Havisham of my own life, surronded by moldy wedding cake. Instead, I know that everything I've ever wanted is within my reach, and I can only achieve it by making the first move and giving chase. I cannot simply wait for the fates to align for me, rather it is my charge to make my own fate. I'd forgotten about that, but thankfully, I've relearned it during the year.

I only had one New Year's Resolution at the beginning of the year, and I'm happy to say that I managed to keep it up. My resolution was pretty simple, to get involved with a church again. It had been too long since I had done service work, or be really challenged by a sermon. If anything, this set the tone for the year. As I look back at my development as a Christian, it's interesting to see all the different phases and what I've learned from them. I look at me as a kid, seeing the church as the only world I knew, before having it shattered apart by church politics. I remember my days in the Youth group, a hyper-zealous kid who had an almost primative view of affiars, but still had no respect for pastors. I see me in College, rejecting most of the "standard" religious offerings, and making my faith intensly personal. Also, I got a lot more scholarly with my views; simply believing was no longer enough, I needed to know why. I saw the various factors that shaped the current views of spirituality. And to be frank, I got kinda cynical with some stuff. And now, I know I'm nowhere near having a complete faith, but I know I'm getting closer. I recongize that my views of pastors are forever skewed by my background, but I shouldn't let that get in the way. I see the man of God that John has become, rocking the very foundations of my belief system. Here is a friend, a person I have great respect for, and he's become the very type of person that I used to despise above all others. But he's still John. I see his genuine nature, I realize that he isn't doing this as a game, he isn't maniuplating the system for his own gain. He just truly wants to serve God. And I know that that might seem like an elementary revelation, but it has changed my view on a lot of things. I see the pastors at HPC, who despite having a very large church and plenty of oppurtunity, maintain the persona of excellence. I realize that I will never elevate a pastor as a spiritual superman, but I'm beginning to acknowledge their sacrifice for God's kingdom.

Wow, that was a random tangent. Didn't mean to get into all my pastor junk.

But seriously, I'm impressed that I've taken the step and gotten involved with a number of Bible Studies. That I've started studying again, preparing myself for whatever discussion instead of just winging it, like I've done so many times before. I've found myself empathizing with individuals that I ordinarily would mock both behind and in front of their backs. I've started going to church regularly again, even though a part of me once swore I'd never return to such a "phony" pursuit. Heck, HPC is even fairly Penecostalish, which makes it even more amazing that I'd be so embedded in an "inferior" brand of theology.

Yes, this year was hard and not full of much change, but frankily, I don't see it that way. 2007 was the year in which I laid the foundation. I did a lot of housekeeping in my life. It was a tough year of battle that has made me stronger for surviving. But more importantly, it's going to be launch pad for the rest of my life. I've known for a while what I'm supposed to be doing, it's only recently that I've begun to fully submit to the inevitable. Almost like Jonah, he knew he was supposed to go to Nineveh, but instead decided to head in the opposite direction. I've known for a while what I'm supposed to be doing. Not exactly what God has called me to do (I don't like to use that phrase) but something pretty close. And I've tried subsituting it with several other pursuits, be it law school, grad school, girls, jobs, or whatever. And yet, it's still nagging at me.

So now, my course is set. I know what my resolution for 2008 is going to be. The first is to finally do what I should have been doing a long time ago, to finally head towards Nineveh. I'll talk more about the particulars in another post as the haze becomes clearer. The other is a bit more abstract, more like a lifetime goal. It's to never lose that hunger. I always strive for more. To never be satisified my current state. To know that perfection can never be reached, yet still try to achieve it.

Anyway, that's been my year. And I hope anyone who might happen to read this and knows me in real life can provide whatever support they can to ensure that I continue on the path I'm supposed to be taking.

Well, Laters

2007 in Review (The non-serious post)

2007-12-30T13:02:00.000-08:00

Well, since the year is rapidly coming to a close, I think I'll begin my end of the year retrospective. While tomorrow's post is going to be a bit more introspective, today I will air out all my feelings on the more "fun topics." So to recap, tomorrow="How I've grown this year" vs. today="What movie made me laugh the hardest." I'll try my best to keep the reasonings as short as possible, but I can't promise anything. Ready?

(At the end, I'm going to ask for your help in one final catagory)

Television

Favorite TV show, drama (Newly discovered this year)-
Winner: (tie) "The Wire" "The Shield"

Both these shows aren't exactly new, but I first saw them this year. And all I can say is "wow." The Shield is more like a cartoon, in a sense. It has a more compelling main character, even if he is incredibly unrealistic. Also, the episodes can stand on their own.

The Wire, on the other hand, I've talked about before. It's not a TV show as much as it is a cinematic novel, detailing the decay of a once great city. It's a lot harder to watch, mainly because of its unflinching realism. Still, I'd highly recommend it to mature audiences (not a show for the kiddies, no sirree Bob)

Runners up: "Battlestar Galatica" (new version) "Rome"

Favorite TV show, Drama (Old Favorites)
Winner: "Friday Night Lights"

I freaking love this show. I've yet to find anyone who can watch it and not become bewitched by its charm. Even non-football fans. It's about Football the same way "MASH" was about the Korean War. Sure, it's nothing but a glorified soap opera, but what show it is.

Runners up: "House M.D." "The Sopranos"

Favorite TV show, Comedy (Newly Discovered)
Winner: "Entourage"

A very funny show. I've learned to like it quite a bit. Plus, any show with Saigon (the rapper) in it can't be bad.

Runners up: "30 Rock" "Curb Your Enthuaism"

Favorite TV show, Comedy (Old Favorite)
Winner: "The Office"

It has long since passed the British version, and major kudos to the writers for making a potentially shark jumping relationship like Jim and Pam getting together not ruin the show.

Runners up: "Psych" "MXC"

FILM

Movie of the year, Comedy (In Theaters)
Winner: "Ratatoille"

I've never been a major Pixar fanboy. Sure, I liked "The Incredibles" and "Toy Story," but I never got on the band wagon for any of their other stuff. In particular, I couldn't stand "Finding Nemo." However, this cute little film won me over. I especially loved the bit about critics.

Runners up: "The Simpson's Movie" "Superbad" "Knocked Up"

Movie of the year, Drama (In Theaters)
Winner: "300"

Okay, let's solve this equation. Mix one history dork (me)+one of the greatest battles in history+amazing special effects+my Greek historian of a brother-in-law+A freaking War-Rhino=One memorable movie going experience.

Runners up: "Pirates of the Carribean" "American Gangster"

Movie of the year, (DVD)
Winner: "The Departed"

It reminded me a lot of "The Wire" in retrospect. I'm not a fan of Martin Scorcese, but I'll make an exception in this instance.

Runners up: Not much. I mainly watched TV shows on DVD.

Music

Album of the Year
Winner: Graduation-Kanye West

Was this really even a contest? I really can't think of any other album that made as much of an impact on my listening habits. I still dream about "Fireworks over Lake Michigan." Plus, with the addition of "Bittersweet," it makes a nearly perfect album.

Runners up: Once Again-John Legend, Food and Liquor-Lupe Fiasco

Single of the Year
Winner: "Bittersweet"- Kanye West feat. John Mayer

Finally, Finally, FINALLY the legendary collab between John Mayer and Kanye was released unceremoniously in download form. Or Japanese iTunes. I've been wanting to hear this song since I first hear the 30 second sample during the 2004 Grammy's. What other rap song can use a harpiscord?

Runners up: "Nobody Do It Better"-Keith Murray, "September"-Kirk Franklin

Artist of the Year
Winner: Lil Wayne

I bet you thought I was going to say Kanye. Nope. No one had a bigger year than Lil Wayne, even if he didn't drop an album. He showed up in more guest spots (Gym Class Heroes, anyone?) and has done an admirable job of proving his boast of "Greatest Rapper Alive."

Runners up: Kanye West, Maroon 5, T-Pain

Workout Song of the Year
Winner: "The Most Beautifullest Thing in this World" by Keith Murray

I listen to this everyday when I go to the gym as I walk through the door. It puts you in a good mood and keeps you dancing as the staff stares at you in disbelief.

Runners up: "Church" by T-Pain, "Good Life" by Kanye West, "September" by Kirk Franklin

"New" Artist of the Year
Winner: Keith Murray

I honestly can't believe that I hadn't heard his stuff before this year. He's an old school rapper, who's biggest hit goes back to 4th grade. He rhymes a lot like I do. Lots of big words and random lyrics.

Runners up: The Pogues, Tiffany Evans

Books

Favorite Book (non-fiction, history)
Winner: "A Long Way Gone: Memories of a Boy Soldier" by Ishmael Beah

Probably both the most painful and worthwhile book I read all year. Basically, the author was forced to fight in Sierra Leone's civil war at a very young age. It's chilling to see how he transforms from an ordinary child into a heartless killing machine. Even more interesting is how he was able to get out of that life, and come to the US. And he was one of the lucky ones. It both brings hope and shows the full horror of humanity. Even if you aren't interested in Africa's political struggles, or Africa to begin with, you can't miss this book

Runners up: "Theodore Rex" by Edmund Morris (yeah, I know it's old and Teddy's my favorite President ever, but I finally just got around to reading it) "It Never Rains in Tiger Stadium" by John Ed Bradley, " Under the Banner of Heaven" by Jon Krakauer, "Bringing Down the House" by Ben Mizrich

Favorite Book (non-fiction, theology)
Winner: (tie) "Under the Banner of Heaven" by Jon Krakauer and "Evidence that Demands a Verdict" by Josh McDowell

Yes, I'm well aware that I already listed "Under the Banner of Heaven" in the 'history' section, but seriously, it challenges your faith like no other book. Krakauer does an amazing job of tracking the foundation of Mormonism from its roots to its current state. Plus, he tracks all of the splinter groups from their inception to modern day figures like Warren Jeffs. It will make you reevaluate a whole lot of misconceptions you may have had about Mormonism, as well as religious zealots in general. A must read.

On the other side of the "zealous" scale you have "Evidence that Demands a Verdict," which I honestly can't believe I haven't read yet. It almost reminded me of being in one of Dr. Parke's classes. Basically, it reiterates what should already be the foundation of your faith, that the Bible is historically accurate. The whole Herodotus angle literally blew me away when I first read it. It strengthens one's resolve in the faith of Jesus Christ just like "Under the Banner of Heaven" challenges it.

Runners up: "Blue Like Jazz" By Donald Miller, "The Culturally Savvy Christian: A Manifesto for Deepening Faith and Enriching Popular Culture in an Age of Christianity-Lite" by Dick Staub (Excellent book, brings up a lot of good points)

Favorite Book (Fiction)
Winner: "The Worthy" by Will Clarke

I think I read this book the first week of the year, and it's stuck with me since. A ghost story deeply entrenched in the LSU and South Louisiana psyche, it is a worthy (no pun intended) successor to the likes of "Confederacy of Dunces." A bit racy at points, it stays true to its frat boy source material.

Runners up: "I Love You, Beth Cooper" by Larry Doyle, "A Game of Thrones" by George R.R. Martin (If only for the excellent "House Tully" reference)

Favorite Book (That I should have outgrown, aka "Kids books" Yes I know I'm a grown man, but I've got to keep current with what the kids are reading as to better advise them in the library)
Winner: "The Lightning Thief" by Rick Riordan

That's right, I didn't pick Harry Potter. Don't get me wrong "Deathly Hallows" was an amazing tour-de-force, but honestly, it dragged a points. However, "The Lightning Thief" has done the impossible; it's like Harry Potter, but better. Instead of magic, the characters are demigods, children of the ancient Greek gods, who just so happen to exist in modern times and are still up to their usual mythic shenanagins. Honestly, if I was still in middle school, this would be my favorite book ever. It's updated classic Greek Myths told in a format that's fast-paced and thrilling. Plus, if you know the source material, you get all sorts of little winks and asides from the author. A must read for any pre-teen, especially those who don't like to read.

Runners up: "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" by J.K. Rowling, "Small Steps" by Louis Sachar

Random Life

Quote of the year (not made by me)-
Winner: "Speaking of the Holocaust..." by Mark Brinson

Without a doubt, my new favorite segway of all time. I honestly think I'm still laughing about this.

Runners up: "Collipark!" by Mr. Collipark, "Grandma's Pancakes"/"Sophapia's"/"Where's the Faith" by MNF Life Group, "MAJOR LEAGUE BASEBALL!" by some homeless person at work. "...IT'S JUST LIKE THAT!!! I get in ya!" by Reggie.

Guilty Pleasure of the Year-
Winner: "Promise Ring" by Tiffany Evans

When I first heard this song, I busted out laughing. Then I found it catchy. Then I downloaded it. It's freaking hysterical. Some 15-year-old going on and on about her man gave her a promise ring and "When I'm older and they call me by your name, I'll wear it on a chain." Classic. Plus, it has the now legendary "COLLIPARK!" shout-out

Runners up: "The Soup," Weirdos at work, Fark.com

Time Wasting Website at Work
Winner: Mental_Floss

It's a place where knowledge junkies like me can attempt to impress our ever-dwindling friend base with random tidbits we learned. Plus, it's updated several times a day!

Runners up: Penny Arcade, Wookieepedia, The Onion

Razzies

Most Disappointing Movie
Winner: "Transformers"

Eh gads this movie was so mediocore. I expected so much, especially since I had friends that saw it multiple times. When I did finally see it, my head blew up cause of the plot holes.

Runners up: "Spiderman 3" "Shriek the 3rd"

Worst Movie I Saw with a Group
Winner: "PS, I Love You"

Do not see this movie. No good will come of it. I cried like a freaking baby the entire time. Plus, by the time I got out of it and was really able to think about the plot, it made no sense (If the end of the film was her mom's first time in Ireland, how was she able to deliver the letter's there earlier). Plus, I'd like to think King Leonidus could do better than Hilliary Swank.

Runners Up: "Spiderman 3", "Shriek the 3rd"

Worst Music Trend
Winner: Amy Winehouse

For real, who cares about her? She can't sing, she's a train wreck of a human being, she looks like a skank. She really has no redeemable values that I can see. She really needs some rehab, not for her professional career, just as a human being

Runners Up: "Hip-Hop is Dead", Suing people who bought the album legally

Worst TV Show Trend:
Winner: The Fact that "Lost" is still on the air

How? I've watched this show, and frankly, anyone who hasn't given up is a giant sucker. The creators are making it up as they go along, there is no plan. When was the last time they mentioned the numbers? or that giant polar bear? Pretty soon the Harlem Globetrotters will be showing up to play a pick up game against Jack and Gilligan.

Runners up: The Writer's Strike, "Cavemen"

Worst Trend in Books
Winner: Putting off Summer Reading to the Last Second

I can understand if I kid did this, but I've got parents badgering me the week before school starts demanding a copy of the book their kid was supposed to read months ago.

Runners Up: "The Secret", "His Dark Materials"

Well, that about sums it up. Feel free to post your reactions and suggestions for better responses. Stay tuned cause tomorrow's going to be wicked serious. (BTW, the one thing I'd like for any Stunatics out there to answer is "Favorite Stu-ism/Stu-moment of the year")

Well, Laters

History Mafia Proud

2007-12-29T20:34:00.000-08:00

So I suppose the time is now rife to let the world in on the inner workings of the notorious History Mafia. I just watched the DVD of the Tony-winning play "History Boys" and it brought back all sorts of fond memories. Well, life in the History Mafia wasn't exactly like the play. None of us were gay, we didn't have a teacher molestation scandal, nor were we inadept at writing essays. Okay, actually, the History Mafia was nothing like "History Boys," except the fact that we were too brilliant for our own good and were arrogant about it. Well, not really, but dang, we ran that place

But it didn't start out that way.

As I stated in a previous post, the History Mafia was the 2nd most defining organization of my College existence. And to be honest, it owes it's entire existance to Shawreth. It's crazy to think that I almost didn't meet "My other half," "My Hetero lifemate," "Superman to my Batman." Of course, I can only be talking about one man, Robbie Brown.

I sorta knew Robbie before Shawreth, I remember meeting him at the Backyard Brawl. And of course, we had Dr. McMillian together. But I didn't begin to really know him until after Rush. We started "studying" together for History classes, in addition to just hanging out. We became a semi-formitable force in the history department. But it wasn't until the 3rd member of our crew joined that the History Mafia began its reign of terror.

Her name in the classroom was "Mrs/Dr. Hayes/Stueck" but I always called her "Becky" (Though not in class, I'm not stupid). She was incredibly young to be a Ph.D, but she somehow managed. Through the course of Sophomore year, Robbie, Becky, and myself forged a bond. It's pretty hard to describe. Becky was a friend, but she was always an authoirty figure. Robbie and I found ourselves a patron for our academic prusuits.

By the time junior year came around, we ran that joint.

We dominated classroom lectures. We set the curve on all tests. We ran Phi Alpha Theta, the history honor society. When it came to anything historical, either myself or my compatriot knew the answer.

I don't remember the exact time that Becky gave Robbie and I the "History Mafia" moniker, but it stuck. We had stupid mafia names for each other. Robbie was "The Don," and I was "Il Duce de Duce" (The Boss of the Bosses). Amber (My female protege) was "The Queen Bee," a name which she loved to no end. We were on first name basis with all the professors.

Of course, just because Robbie and I were two sides of the same coin, doesn't mean we were always cool with each other. Actually, there was always a friendly rivalry between the two of us on essays and tests. I was the better writer, but he was a much more estudious student come test time. It's funny, all of our exams always came down to my raw ability to remember crap and pull it out of my butt, versus his prep and long hours studying. Frankily, the point difference between the two of us was never anything higher than 3 points. Sometimes I did better, sometimes he did. It went about 50/50. And it was always higher than anyone else in the class.

I know I may sound cocky talking about these days, but truly if it wasn't for Robbie, I wouldn't have had the desire to push myself that hard. It wasn't exactly accountability, more like I knew that if I slipped up, he'd rub it in my face, just like how I'd do the same if he didn't preform to his potential. Just like how it says in the Bible that "As iron sharpens iron," it was Robbie and I going through crusables and literal tests that made us stronger. We were much greater than the sum of our parts, we were the unstoppable history juggernaunt.

But alas, all good things must come to an end. We graduated. I got the "Top Student in History" award, but Robbie got "Top European History student." We both got our names on plaques. He also finished with a slightly higher GPA overall. Sure, we competed to the end, but it was about a lot more than just classroom work. We spent most of our time together outside of the classroom as well, be it in Shawreth, or just doing friends stuff.

So yeah, that's the History Mafia. I didn't get too much into the seedy underbelly, but trust me, it exists. Feel free to call me "Boss of the Bosses" if you so desire.

Well, Laters.

Why Getting Dad Something for Christmas Has Always Been a Struggle

2007-12-28T21:39:00.000-08:00

It certainly has been a while since I last dropped an incredibly lengthy and verboise post. And I'm sorry to any Stunatics out there in internet land, but this one's going to be pretty short.

Honestly, I wish I could lie and say a lot has happened in the past couple of days, but it hasn't. I worked some, I hung out with a friend, I worked some more. The only real piece of excitiment has been the arrival and instillation of my Dad's Christmas gift. After swearing revenge on my father for years of unopened DVD box sets, I decided to get him something he might actually use.

I suppose a word about my dad is in order. Yes, my father is the most humble and selfless guy on the planet. And I admire him for it, heck, he's my role model for that very reason. But this self-denial brings about one frustrating concequence, he is impossible to shop for. Honestly, he has no hobbies or interests. His job is teaching blind children, and his favorite pasttime is making beautiful music. Outside of that, he really has no real interests to speak of. I mean, at one point in time, way before my birth, he was supposedly a stereo junkie. However, he's already gotten the most killer system that 1975 had to offer and has no real need to replace it. He's also been an Apple computer fanatic for as long as I can remember, but has been forced to go to the dark side of Windows for his work.

But as for shopable interests, forget about it. For as long as I can remember, gifts for dad have always been one of two things: a tie with a musical motfif or a book. And he'll wear the tie and read the book, but those do get old after a while. I mean, Tom Clancy only writes so much, and Dad present days come three times a year (Father's Day, his Birthday, and Christmas). He's not a sports fanatic, though he will watch whatever sporting event happens to be on, and root for whatever team is closer to us in proximity. Heck, even the DVD box set was a welcome change for a while. But even that is getting old, since he never takes them out of the shrink wrap. (He never really has time to just sit down and watch something. Though he did watch "Band of Brothers" and "Rome"). He's got "The Godfather" collection, "Alfred Hitchcock," and "The Pink Panther" set, all of which are supposedly his favorite flicks, still as unopened as when he first got them. Of course, this isn't too surprising, there wasn't a TV in the house growing up. The TV my parents have is still a new novelty. (For real, they made up for lost time. For the first 20 years of my life, we had no TV. Then my parents got one. 6 months later, they got DirecTV. I was like "Who are you and what have you done with my parents?")

Anyway, I decided to get him a DVR, since he's been hankering to record the stuff that comes on the Satillite channels. Now he no longer has to worry about the tape being turned on at the right time to get all of "Survivor."

Anyway I got it installed (which is an epic story in of itself, maybe some other time) while my parents were still in Shreveport. Finally, they come in as I'm watching some bowl game. I'll try to recap the exchange.

Me: "Mom, Dad! You gotta come here and see this interception!"(Mom was already in on it)

Dad: (Taking his sweet time coming in) "Hmm?"

Me: "Ah jeez, they aren't showing an instant replay. Lemme see if I can get it again." (Engaging the DVR's rewind live TV feature. I see the play and start the game again) "Ah, here it is. Check out this play!"

Dad: (Slowing sensing something isn't exactly what it seems) "Wait...how did you do that? (Seeing the new larger Satillite reciever) What happened to the box? (Looking at me accusatorily) What did you do?"

Finally, I fessed up and told him about his Christmas gift. He seemed impressed. He didn't want to get a tutorial on all the funcitionality of his new toy. But I'll admit that he had a sly little grin on his face when I paused live TV when he had to go to the bathroom.

So I think I've finally accomplished something I've never done before in my life. I got my dad something that he'll actually use, and still be using by the time next Christmas comes around. The only problem is that I'll probably be forced to go back to books and ties whenever his brithday comes around.

Well, Laters

Wherein Stu Discovers His Actual Heritage

2007-12-25T19:40:00.000-08:00

So I suppose Christmas is now over, for the most part. And to be honest, this has been a weird/not so great year. Between all the various illnesses and time delays, it hasn't seemed like a regular Christmas. For instance, I was only in Shreveport for two nights, a new record. Also, I didn't have to spend Christmas Eve at Noel and then Aunt Betty's house. Rather, Scott and I were able to go over to Uncle Rick's house, since I wouldn't have much time to see them due to my having to leave on Christmas day for Baton Rouge. (I have to work tomorrow morning and didn't want to leave Fun-Ville, USA too late and be forced to drive in the dark. Plus, Uncle Rick is a lot higher on the relative hiearchy). In addition, there weren't that many people there this year. Between divorces and births, a lot of people weren't able to go to Shreveport.

However, this holiday wasn't all in vain. I was able to catch up with my brother, who surprisingly becomes more and more tolerable as time passes by. We spent pretty much all of Chirstmas Eve together, either doing last second shopping, seeing "Walk Hard", or playing pool at Uncle Rick's. I've come to realize, whether I like it or not, I'm a lot like my brother. Sure, we look nothing alike physically (He's short, trim, and attractive. I'm none of those things) but we share a ton of the same mannerisms. I suppose I really did hero-worship my brother growing up, even though he tormented me relentlessly. A lot of stuff that I used to do, and some stuff that I still do, is emulating him. It's strange, we have the same sense of humor, ability to make up music off the top of our heads (Mine being rap, his being rock), manner in which we deal with relatives and grandma, and a whole lot of other stuff. I dunno. I suppose it really hit me while we were watching our traditional viewing of "A Christmas Story" on Christmas Eve. We both found the same scenes funny for the same reason, even though we've both seen the movie about a gazillion times. For better or worse, he is my brother. Sure, I disagree with a lot of what he does, but he still remains that figure that I strained to be like when I was a kid. For real, nothing and nobody was cooler than my brother. He kicked butt at sports, he was popular, he got all the girls, he was the funniest guy in the room, he pretty much was everything anyone would ever want to be. And we're a lot more alike than I'd probably care to admit.

However, as nice as hanging out with Scott was, some random thing highlighted my trip. Though most of my family was absent from Shreveport this year, we had one new member to the celebration. This would be my Dad's cousin Jonell, who turns out to be one of my cooler relatives. Anyway, it turns out that she's done a lot of genelogical work in trying to find out more about our family, particularly the Tullys, who very little is known about. Actually, lemme sum up all that's known about the Tullys:

We came here from Ireland, most likely during the potato famine, from our ancestorial home of Tully Castle. We didn't come through New York Harbor or Ellis Island. We arrived some where in Georgia, probably Rome. Then Omega Tully moved to Texas. He had my grandfather. The end.

Now let's throw all that out the window.

I don't know why, but I've always felt some sort of affinity for my great-grandfather, Omega Tully. I guess it started cause I found his name super cool when I was a kid. But as time's gone on, I've found him a fascinating figure. Here's a man who had no education, but could read and owned a freaking copy of "The Prince." He marries a woman and raises her siblings before having his own kids, most of which he outlives. He fills out a draft card for both World Wars, even though he's in his 60's when WWII breaks out and way above the exemption age. I dunno, he just seems interesting. Like I've mentioned before, he's my last link to my ancestors, my Irish side, if you will.

Well, it turns out, I'm not even Irish.

Not on that side at least. Yes, I know that "Tully" is the most stereotypical Irish name in existence, except for "O'Something," but it turns out that Jonell has done a ton of research, and we didn't even come from Ireland originally. Now, this doesn't change much, since my mom's side is loaded with Irish, but still, it's amazing to think that my namesake people aren't Irish at all. It turns out that Omega's parent's originally immigrated to Georgia after arriving in South Carolina from the Old Country. And I still have relations living in the Georgia area. A ton of them, to be exact. This is the biggest boom in relatives ever since the imfamous "Oh yeah, you didn't know your great-grandmother is still alive?" conversation I had with my dad when I was in 11th grade.

But the most amazing thing about this whole conversation was the country from which Omega's people actually came from.

I've been able to visit Ireland, and check out the places where my assumed people starved to death desiring potatoes. It was pretty, but it didn't capture me like one's ancestorial home is supposed to. Don't get me wrong, parts of Ireland are breath-taking, but I'm in no rush to go back or live there. However, there was another place I visited that I absolutely fell in love with. Honestly, the people, the language, the countryside, it was all so incredible.

So imagine my surprise when Jonell informs me that the Tully's actually came from that very country, the place which captured my imagination. That's right, even though Tully is a very Irish name, my people are actually Welsh.

Honestly, you could have blown me down with a feather. I was stunned. It was almost vindication for my captivation with the place. I wanted to both dance around the room and punch her for messing with my mind like that. Yeah, so sue me, but I love that consonant heavy language. I've always thought that the Red Dragon is the coolest emblem for a country ever.

I remember when I was at M-Fuge once, and I sorta felt I was called to Wales. It sounds crazy, and I know I'm not one who's called to preach or be a preacher, but there was something very palpable that night. Like I knew there was some connection between myself and the Welsh people. I'm not going to go into all the details here on the internet, but feel free to ask me in Real Life. And to find out that I'm actually Welsh, at least in the "Tully" sense, I dunno, it feels right.

Yes, I know that ancestory really doesn't mean much. And I know that all my forefathers were all shades sorts of caucasian. Plus, I still consider myself American above all. But at the same time, it's because of these people that I owe my very life. There is stuff to be learned in knowing where you come from, like identity. These people thought it was a good enough idea to have kids and raise them to a time where those kids reproduced. Because of those decisions, I'm alive. It's mind boggling.

So yeah, apparently I'm Welsh with an Irish name. Go figure.

Well, Laters.

Wedding for an Old Friend

2007-12-22T21:41:00.000-08:00

I went to a wedding tonight in New Orleans. It was very nice, pretty, and all the usual wedding descriptions. The groom was a guy that I grew up with, I've known him since the crib. Granted, we've grown apart over the course of time, it was still nice to be there. It feels weird seeing him married. I mean, he's always been the baby, but now he's the first to get married. Still, I couldn't be happier for him, Brittany's a wonderful girl and Glenn's a lucky man to get her. Of course, there's a severe height difference between the two of them, over a foot, so he always has to stoop to kiss her.

It was great to have fun and dance on the top of Jackson Brewery overlooking the river. I don't think I've ever seen the Quarter less crowded, an effect from the storm, I suppose.

Well, Laters

It's Not Good News.

2007-12-20T21:02:00.000-08:00

This sucks.

Adam's biopsy result came back. It's cancer. It's inoperable. Chemo's not on the table. It's big and aggressive. There's little else the doctors can do for him, so they should be sending him home soon.

This sort of crap wasn't supposed to happen for decades.

Well, Laters.

Another Delay and Prayer Request for Warren

2007-12-19T19:53:00.000-08:00

Sorry, I really wanted to write about the notorious "History Mafia" tonight, but I don't think that's going to happen.

I've had a really rough day. It just feels over-whelming. I mean, I don't want to get all personal, but it feels like I've barely swum through the day. A whole bunch of stuff that's out of my control, or mis-interpretations of the stuff I can control. I mean, I know that I have faith and I must grit my teeth through this time, but it's tough.

I'm still to get a full report on Adam, though what I got was nice.

But what hurts the most right now is that it has become clear that Warren can no longer live by himself. Granted, he's a lot better than he was pre-hospitalization, but the new drugs are seriously screwing with his system. It's almost like he's no longer himself. Anyway, his brother came and picked him up this afternoon for Christmas, but we have no idea how long he's going to be there. Just pray that his body can absorb the drastic change and adapt accordingly. I've seen glimpses of the man he once was, but they've become few and far between. It really hurts to see someone wither like this.

Man, I'm getting really near my breaking point. It just seems like I'm being flooded. Anything that could go wrong, has been going wrong. I can't seem to remember a period of time like this in my life. It's just been one thing after another. And it's not just illnesses, like everything has been rough. I think I should follow Big Boi's advice.

On a slightly more upbeat note, my brother is flying in tonight for Christmas. So mothers, lock up your daughters, cause the Tully boys are in town. If you've got a hankering for a diamond-selling semi-rockstar, we've got you covered. And if a philosophical tragically-misunderstood schoolboy with a pechant for rhyming and history is more your speed, well, we can accomendate you as well.

Well, Laters.

Disappointing, But Has A Teaser

2007-12-18T19:48:00.000-08:00

Well, I got an update on Adam today, good news. I'll give a more full report tomorrow after I get more news.

I'm not really sure to put right here. Today was fairly worky. Not too much to report. I guess the best I can say is that I love my friends, both MC and HPC-y. I truly am blessed for having them in my life.

Don't worry, tomorrow I'll give a full and eye-opening look at the inner workings of the notorious "History Mafia"

Well, Laters.