Lust for Life

It’s funny how as the pace of life speeds up, we as humans slow down to compensate. I’m not sure if this is a good thing, or if it simply complicates the process; but as so many haggard old men and jaded adults tell me: “It is what it is.”

Moving so slowly myself, it’s near impossible for me not to notice this cycle of cause and effect. Over the past two weeks or so everything has become a whirlwind of activity and pine and turkey and driving and Santas. After spending nearly a week straight in my van touring Virginia, haggard seems like a very good word.

Of course we move slower; when faced with a whirlpool or cliff face, you tend to cling onto whatever piece of stable ground is in sight. You don’t want to fall, you don’t want to die. Even humans who have nothing to live for tend to actively avoid situations where their sanity and wellbeing will be tested. We like safe, we like known... even if we don’t know why.

Amid all this transitioning and insanity, around the time when Thanksgiving was transitioning into Advent, Quentin Tarantino began to come up a lot. I really have no idea why. Perhaps it was the release of his 20th anniversary box set containing all his films, or maybe he was just coming up in conversation more naturally... but I suddenly found myself holding conversations about him with my girlfriend, Leslie, and my old film buddy from college, Jeremy.

With Leslie, I expounded on Tarantino’s unique flavor of dialog and tone, and how similar it is in many respects to Flannery O’Connor (which Leslie had just been sharing with me). They both have a very strong ear for conversation and ethnic colloquialisms, and both add sudden spurts of violence to their stories to punctuate themes and ideas.

With Jeremy, I reminisced about the time we had gone to see Tarantino’s WWII epic, Inglourious Basterds in theaters together, not realizing that we were witnessing film history. The movie singlehandedly launched Austrian actor Christoph Waltz’s career, and once again threw Tarantino’s hat in the ring with such filmmakers as James Cameron, the Coen brothers, Peter Jackson and Pete Doctor. Of course, neither of us could ever forget that opening scene.

It was a given that since he came up more in conversation, the films I began to watch in my free time (which I tend to have to much of as of late) we mostly his. I began with Death Proof, then worked my way through Kill Bill and Reservoir Dogs, leading up to his masterpieces: the afore mentioned Inglourious Basterds and, of course, Pulp Fiction.

At this point, I realize that a lot of you are wondering where I am going with this, and perhaps even a few are offended by my love for such a “twisted” man as Tarantino. Allow me to explain: As I began to rewatch his films, I also started looking up interviews on Youtube and watching mini-documentaries where he talked about his work. The wild look in his eye might disturb some even more than the gratuitous violence of his films; it suggests that he is either constantly huffing cocaine, or that he had a serious case of untreated ADHD. Whatever the case may be, the wild look in his eye and gregarious gesticulation of his hands always punctuate whatever he says. The man is larger than life, but more than that.... he LOVES life.

And then it hit me, say whatever you want about his films, I want to be more like pointy jawed, foulmouthed, interrupting crazy man. Why, you ask? Because I would bet good money that there is not a day of the year where he wakes up disappointed or clinging to that last bit of solidity the day before. I would bet that each morning when he walks up, he says something to the effect of:

“Hot DAMN it feels good to be alive! Booyah! I get to make movies and hang out with awesome people and it’s totally ******* awesome! You know? I think I’m going to get myself a tasty beverage to wake up!”

His enthusiasm is infectious, and despite the fact that he may be a sub-par filmmaker, I firmly believe that it is his boundless enthusiasm which inspires those that surround him to do their best.

It reminds me of my history and math professors in college. They might not have been the best in the world, and I was most definitely not the best student, but the energy that they exuded in class infected my being. I excelled in those classes, not because the professor cracked a whip over my back, but because he loved what he did.

Anyone can be “good” at what they do, not everyone can LOVE what they do. Take for example the Apostle Peter. Poor Peter was pretty much just bad at life, he backstabbed his friends, he sliced off people’s ears and just made a general fool of himself... but there was something in him that Jesus saw that many others probably did not have: the Love. After Christ’s death and resurrection, Peter became the most vocal and prolific of all the Apostles (save for Paul, who came later). He offended, healed, preached, and probably drank and sang his way through life, never abating from the cause of Christ. Even his final request to be crucified upside down was for the Love. He loved Yahweh, and it showed.

How many of us live mediocre lives of mediocre excitement? Far too many, I would hazard a guess. The trite, cliched piece of inspiration might come in the form of: “Be the best you you can be.” But that is truly a chiasm from hell.

Instead, do it for the Love. It will make you jump out of bed, plaster a smile on your big dumb face, and cause everyone you meet to wonder what the hell has gotten into you. And you can tell them firmly that it is not hell, it is the Love. You did it for the Love.

FEED ME! (Becoming an Adventurer Part I)

I spend a lot of time in video stores. I have probably spent hours upon hours in them; perhaps even as much time as a stay at home parent might spend at their local grocery store. This never struck me as abnormal until a day ago.

After 3 fun filled weeks with family and friends, the last week of my winter break was upon me and my family had all but returned to their everyday routine. Dad was back at work, the girls were headed out of town and my mom and her own dad were headed on a short holiday to DC. For the first time in 3 whole weeks I was going to be on my own again. Naturally I didn’t want to spend the majority of the next 48 hours alone in a big empty house, so I hit the town.

In between lunch and heading to a movie theater, I stopped in an FYE (For Your Entertainment). It is one of the largest I have ever been in, and I used to frequent it when I was a permanent fixture of the Hampton Roads area. Upon walking in I stopped and felt suddenly overwhelmed. It might have been that I was tired, or maybe I have just been hypersensitive about entertainment lately; but for whatever reason, when I walked in the door, I lost all desire to look for individual items, whether they were movies, music or video games. I was suddenly looking at the store as a whole, and all I could say was:

“Why?”

Why do we need stores that have as large a variety of movies as we do of food? In fact, there was probably a larger variety of sitcoms on DVD in that store than there are kinds of produce at the Farm Fresh around the corner.

Dizziness overwhelmed me as I realized that I had been part of this. I suck in movies often without thinking. Sure, I keep up a veneer of holiness to hide how much I am consuming, but that is something akin to a man who is 200 pounds overweight telling you that he only eats so much because he wants to tell you what kinds of food are good. He is not a cook, he is not demonstrating that he has actually learned anything about good food or how to make it… only that he enjoys eating and he does it with disregard to how it is effecting him.

The scary thing is that in America the way food and movies are sold and consumed is not so different anymore. A shiny, glossy cover can make a tidy little profit whether it’s carrots or Caddyshack. People buy Ho Hos and porn for the same reason… they taste good, even if they both make you feel like you want to vomit an hour after consumption. What is scarier is that an HBO show can now become “critically acclaimed” simply by containing gratuitous amounts of violence and sex, causing it be suddenly be “edgy” and/or “gritty,” even though underneath all that it is just another soap opera. This has already begun to bleed over into the world of food, with foods that are absolutely crap for you to eat getting actual stickers that proclaim that they have received awards like “BEST TASTING” or “CHIEFS’ CHOICE AWARD.” Yes… things are getting that ridiculous.

Just today I was returning some things to a Best Buy around the corner from me and got suckered into that very “ooh! Shiny!” syndrome that we all fall into so easily in the internet age. Do I not know that Satan is the Prince of Light? Do I not know that covers deceive? “That sin looks so hot!” one might say. And Mark Driscoll might retort: “Yeah… but so is hell.”

Anyway, I had all this money from the returns, so my consumeristic self decided that I show blow the money immediately. On what? Is always the next question. Well, it was new release Tuesday. (Yes, I am so consumed with my need for new stuff that I know that in the USA new movies, music and books are always released on Tuesdays.) The new HBO show Boardwalk Empire had just been released on DVD and a free preview of the show Game of Thrones came with it for a limited time. The covers looked pretty, Steve Buscemi was in it, it had won 8 Emmys. It must be good… right? RIGHT?

Well, I bought it and took it home, only to look up the content rating in IMDB. The show was filled with foul language… more than most R rated movies contain, full frontal nudity (male and female), and buckets of blood and brain bashing. On an HBO show? No way? You’ve gotta be joking! (/sarcasm)

I promptly went back and returned the DVD set and got the movie Moon instead, which I had actually been looking for for months and which was nowhere near an impulse buy. It still might have been better had I simply returned Boardwalk Empire and walked right out of the store, but there you have it.

And now I’m sitting here still thinking, “Why? Why has this been so important to me? How on earth did I let my standards drop so much? I almost exposed myself to… ick.”

And then I think a little bit more and I realize that I have been living vicariously through storytellers… like many of my peers have. We are too afraid to have our own adventures, so we watch other peoples’. And suddenly I come to a simple and yet monumental conclusion: it is time for me to have my own adventure.

Beings Who Love

Love… love is the glue that holds the fabric of the universe together. It’s not like it’s a new concept. Even the evolutionists believe it… they can’t even create a world where love is not at its center; and every time they do they turn into psychopathic, mass-murdering lunatics.

One of my favorite TV shows of all time is Doctor Who. Super nerdy, I know, but my love of the show goes much deeper than its time traveling, sci-fi exterior. My love for the show stems from the warm beating hearts at its center; the fact that it is ultimately love, and love only that can conquer all the evils of the universe. The two most recent seasons, under the deft hand of Steven Moffat, demonstrate this perfectly.

From the way he writes the show, and from the things he simply presumes that the audience will take for granted, it is fairly easy to surmise that Moffat is an atheist. However, grace is common, even if belief in God is not, and Moffat cannot seem to help writing brilliant stories about fathers and sons and mothers and daughters and romantic couples and lovers who would sacrifice the entire universe for each other. Moffat seems to be a scientific wizard who is not only an atheist but a hopeless romantic.

I have often been criticized for the fact that I too am a hopeless romantic. It’s not logical, it’s not reasonable… but when I am loving someone or something other than myself… something outside of myself: that is when I am at my happiest. That is when I am most fulfilled. Even the atheists know this, and they cannot help but show it. Silly atheists.

On the flipside, there have been not times I have been lower than when I am filled with hate and rage. Those times when I suddenly think that I am the most important thing in the universe and that everyone should bow to my wishes and my wishes alone… that is when I feel most truly alone. That is when I am left with nothing but myself, and I realize that that is the very last person in the world I would want to be left alone with.

Alone, selfish and consumed with greed, humans destroy each other. War comes not from man being a true island, but from his myopic desire for what he thinks will make him happy at the expense of all others. Pain and suffering come from man THINKING that he is alone in the universe and that he is… God.

“God is not watching… for I am god.” The most dangerous thing in the universe that can be uttered… and yet we say it every day.

Question: Is God reasonable and logical and normal?

Answer: No… He decided to create an entire reality just to please Himself because he wanted more things to interact with. He was the very first being to ever think to Himself: “you know what we need? A really epic story.” And then he told one.

Question: Is God an island?

Answer: No. From the beginning of time and space… since BEFORE the dawn of time and space, He has been always and forever interacting with Himself. For He is three. And He is one. He is triune. And yes, that is mad. Completely daft and mad and insane. And that mad, daft, insane, loving, passionate, incredible being decided to tell a story with us in it. Not only that… but He decided to make us like Him.

Beings who love.

In the Spring...

"In the spring, at the time when kings go off to war, David sent Joab out with the king's men and the whole Isrealite army. They destroyed the Ammonites and besieged Rabbah. But David remained in Jerusalem..." -2 Samuel 11:1

This is the precursor to King David's great sin--his adultery with Bathsheba and the murder of her husband, Uriah. The entire passage is prefaced with this thought: the simple fact that David was not where he was supposed to be. He begins the entire story with neglecting his duties, being lazy and abusing his power. How could things NOT go wrong?

Most great sins, I would argue, start this way. One bad decision deserves another afterall. Abraham let his wife get pawned off on a king not once... but TWICE, because he made the mistake of going into foreign lands and then lying about the relationship he had with Sarah; calling her his sister. Why did this happen? Because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time: Egypt, the anti-promised land.

But the opposite is also true. Take Samuel himself as an example. Right place at the right time with the right attitude. And so it goes throughout Scripture. Things do not start big. They progress, they escalate. Sins and victories both. They stack on top of each other. Make sure you are in the right place doing the right thing-- or you are going to get sucked down.

Let's Get Thankful

Right now I am thankful for rock and roll in the morning that tells me "it's time to get up and GO!"

I am thankful that I have a place to come back to here on the east coast where I am welcomed by many open arms.

I am thankful for being able to study Greek on a holiday. (Wait, what?) Well, why shouldn't I be thankful? I am learning amazing things, like how to read the Scriptures in the languages they were originally written in. Why not praise God for that? (In all things give thanks.)

I am thankful for the computer that I so often hate, and usually with good reason. I am thankful that it lets me create and learn and then share those things with you.

I am thankful for wired electronics... they prevent a scatterbrain like me from loosing all of my gizmos. I am thankful for the endless fun I have untieing the knots that they inevitably end up in.

I am thankful for friends. Friend who forgive. Friends who love. Friends who care enough to go beyond the casual: "Hey, how's life" and actually want to know how you are doing and want to invest time in you. I am thankful for friends who will let you drink their gin, friends that will let you crash on their couch after a bad night, friends who will drive you to the airport at 3AM, friends who after 2 years of no conversation at all will just pick it up again like nothing ever happened.

I am thankful for school, after all, I'm paying for it... almost like I want to be here.

I am thankful for sisters who constantly let you know that you are loved and missed while you are thousands of miles away.

I am thankful for parents who always love to have you back at their house, no matter what has happened, no matter how long it's been, no matter what you've done, parents who still want you to call their home your home.

I am thankful that I am son the the Great King, the Creator of the universe, the Author of the Endless Russian novel, the Founder of the Deep Magic and Writer of the Hand Book. I cannot be crushed, because the King is my strength, He is my song, and He has become my salvation.

But what I am perhaps most thankful for this year is a lesson I just learned; the lesson of thankfulness. First thing I should lay down before I go further: Ephesians 5:1-4

"Follow God’s example, therefore, as dearly loved children and walk in the way of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God. But among you there must not be even a hint of sexual immorality, or of any kind of impurity, or of greed, because these are improper for God’s holy people. Nor should there be obscenity, foolish talk or coarse joking, which are out of place, but rather thanksgiving."

Look at the last word there, thanksgiving. It is the attitude that trumps all the others. It is the spiritual fruit that kills all those sins. Of course this needs to be true thankfulness in Christ in order for it to work, but believe me... it DOES work. On my worst days it has been a struggle, but when I can get alone and go for a walk and just start talking freely... instead of whining I try to get thankful. Pray earnestly on your knees, think about what you have and how you have been blessed. Stop the "oh, I can't stand that teacher" and give thanks for that teacher. Stop being frustrated by what you don't have and look around at what you do have; give thanks for it. Mad at someone, thank God for them. Have a task to do that you really, really would rather not do, be thankful for how it will grow you up and prepare you for the challenges that you will face in your future.

Not thankful? Well there is really only one remedy: get thankful... then you will be thankful.

Happy Thanksgiving, gang!

Cheers and stuff,
JSTT

A Beginning, Middle and End

Lately I've been reminiscing, looking back on the many, many adventures that I have had over the course of the past 21 1/2 years of my life. Thanks to a few good friends and relatives, this has been made rather easy. Five places immediately spring to mind:

-Burlington, VT... the place I was born, where my parents met, and where I built and played with many snowmen.

-Chagrin Falls, OH... a sleepy little town on the outskirts of Cleveland (which was once the steel capital of the United States) it is now firmly located in what is often called the "rust belt." The owner of the local hardware store knows my father and grandfather by sight. The ducks in the river probably know me just about as well.

-Lima, Peru... smack-dab in the middle of the driest desert in the world, one day of real rain causes mass landslides and countless deaths. The people are actually rather amicable though... except when they are behind the wheel of a car.

-Virginia Beach, VA... the first real big city that I lived in. This place galvanized me as a Christian and gave me someone the best friends that I have ever had.

-Jacksonville, NC... a military town nestled away in the outer banks of the Carolinas... I have lived there a grand total of four times, each time very different than the last. I have run all over the Marine Corps base there, and contracted many fire ant bites in the process. It's a swamp with bears and bobcats and the occasional gator.

I hope you will see as much of the world as I have one day. The adventures and places and people scream out, glorifying God even if they don't mean to. Because they make up the epic tale that is Creation.

The story continues...

In All Things...

...praise God.

Praise God when you laugh.
Praise God when you cry.
Praise God when you sleep.
Praise God when you wake.
Praise God when you bleed.
Praise God when you heal again.
Praise God as the roller coaster drops you from the heights.
Praise God when the car rolls safely back into the station.
Praise God when things are spinning out of control.
Praise God when you shows you the underlying order of life once again.
Praise God when you cannot see the path in front of you.
Praise God when the lights come back on.
Praise God.
Praise God.
Praise God.

(500) Days of Pure Evil

OK, this one has been a long time coming, so I figured I would take a break from playing Plant vs. Zombies, studying Greek and checking email in order to bring you this well thought out and coherent (ahem) essay explaining why 500 Days of Summer is a horrible, awful, no good, very bad movie. You all had better appreciate it! (insert sarcastic wink here)

Now, as a second preface, I must say that I had been looking forward to this movie for a long, long time. I think it might have even been one of those films that got me stuck in the paper mill of advertising, and I was near salivating to see it. (Wow, that's kind of a disgusting metaphor.) On top of that I am an enormous Joseph Gordon-Levitt fan, Brick and Inception being in my top 15 favorite films. So by the time it came to our little second run theater here in Moscow late summer '09, there was pretty much no way anyone was going to stop me from going.

I went alone... which in retrospect was probably for the best. I'm not sure I would be comfortable watching that movie with anyone at this point in my life. I would either be embarrassed, break down crying, try to kill everyone in the room, shield my friends' eyes, or perhaps attempt to do all four simultaneously. I am not to be held accountable for anything I do to you while watching this movie.

Now that I'm done ranting (no I'm not), I'll beginning with my logical explanation:

The movie starts with not the opening credits, but a dedication of sorts... kind of like at the beginning of a book. "For my dog Frank, who was always there for me," or "To my Dad, for keeping me honest," or something of that sort. The opening dedication for 500 Days of Summer goes a little something like this:

"Author's Note: The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Especially you Jenny Beckman... Bitch."

Hmmm... bitter much?

While watching it for the first time (to this date the only time I have been able to watch the film in its entirety. I tried again a few months later, but was unable to get further than the 30 minute mark), I promptly forgot this first warning sign and watched on... very sure that this film was describing my heart-broken life in all its bitter detail.

The film begins with the classic boy meets girl. Tom works as a greeting card writer in a fashionable part of L.A. Summer begins working there as a secretary. Tom and Summer are very different. "How?" you ask? Well, let me put this as bluntly as possible: Tom's a girl, and Summer's a dude. Yes, it's weird; no, it's not what you think. Let me explain:

Tom is a sensitive guy. Not only is he sensitive, but he's whiny, needy, "in touch" with his emotions, and is kind of pathetic. He's clingy, and obnoxious, and all the things that guys really find gross and unattractive in women. Tom is a guy technically, but he represents all the bad stereotypes of women.

Summer is a head-strong girl. Not only is she head-strong, but she's immature, cavalier, sexually obsessed, and doesn't really see the point of committing to a relationship when you could just "have fun." Summer is a girl technically, but she represents all the bad stereotypes of guys that women hate.

The movie would be bad enough if it was Tom being the sex-obsessed guy, and Summer being the whiny girl. In fact, I am pretty sure that if that movie were ever pitched to any forward thinking Hollywood production company they would reject it outright, their brains bleeding after they hemorrhaged at hearing such a horrible and stupid idea. So why, when the gender roles are reversed, is it suddenly acceptable, and not only acceptable but cool and a movie worthy of putting on film critics' "Best Movies of the Year" lists?

In the end the relationship explodes (duh) after a conversation where Summer compares them both to Sid and Nancy (if you don't know who Sid and Nancy are, click here, then come back and read the rest of my rant/essay/reviewishthingy). Tom is offended by such a comparison and retorts: "But Sid stabbed Nancy with a knife! I hardly think I'm Sid Vicious!"

"Noooooo...." Summer replies. "I'M Sid."

"Oh... so I'm Nancy," Tom says, a little dazed.

The gender flipping is explicitly referenced here. How could it be missed? Soon after, Summer tells Tom that the relationships should probably end. The sex has been good, but Summer still doesn't believe in "love." What a mature, upstanding woman.

For the last half-an-hour or so of the film, Tom follows Summer around like a pitiful puppy dog, until he at last learns that she's gotten engaged. Tom (with good reason) is incredulous. Summer talks him down though, reassuring him that he taught her what love really was... he just wasn't the right guy for her. They share a tender moment where Summer encourages Tom to pursue his dream of becoming an architect instead of a greeting card writer, and then she leaves.

The final scene is Tom waiting for an interview at an architecture firm. While waiting he meets one of the other applicants, a girl... they agree to meet for coffee. And with the final credits fast approaching, Tom calls out as she's walking away:

"What's you name?"

"Autumn!" she calls back.

To quote a friend of mine: Really? REALLY??? How am I supposed to believe, or have any kind of faith that either of them really learned anything at all? How do you know that Tom will grow a skin and not get his heart torn out by Autumn too? The name kind of implies that the cycle is just continuing. What about Summer? When the sex isn't good anymore, won't she just dump her shiny new play thing and move on to whatever is the newer, shinier thing? The sequel would probably begin with them just as broken and hallow and empty as they were when they first broke up.

The film is not about real life.... well it is, but not the right kind. It really does represent where our wonderful world is headed: Men chickening out, and women taking the lead... or becoming really screwed up versions of men as the case may be. But that is not the way that God created the world. The version of the world that 500 Days of Summer portrays is badly broken, and not something we should emulate. Not only that, but it is not something we should enjoy watching either. The first time I watched it, it simply induced a pity party of supernova proportions. Living in the suckiness of the past is a lame way to live your life, however accurately or inaccurately the film might portray past events of your life. Get out of yourself. No... life is not all about you. There is more to this life than sex and getting instant gratification, or simply getting, getting, getting from a relationship. Where's the give? Where is the givING for that matter?

I have fallen into the self-pity trap more times than I can count. There is no getting around that. But instead of that hurting my ethos, I hope strengthens my exhortation to the small number of readers that I have: I've been there. I've done that. Don't fall into the horrible, horrible stereotypes of this film. Read your Bible... there are some pretty good stereotypes to live up to in there.

All that said... I may still go to work for a greeting card company someday.