I can't do anything right

So the most accurate way to phrase it is just to say that I've been in a shitass mood lately. That's right, shitass. This shitass mood is, of course, compounded by the guilt I feel over being in a shitass mood in the first place. "You've got a brand-spankin' new baby boy," I tell myself, "an amazing two year old, a beautiful, wonderful, loving wife. You got every reason in the world to be happy, ecstatic even, walking on air...so WTF, Self?" In response, I simply scowl back at myself, and go get another cup of coffee.

It's a chicken vs. egg question, in some ways. This mood, it almost feels like all sense of selflessness, of caring for others, hell, of love is drained out of me, like I got nothing to give. But of course, I've got people relying on me to be able to give, so there's no getting out of it. So I end up feeling resentful, selfish angry, etc., followed by guilt for feeling that way and for being a jackass towards the people I'm supposed to love the most. I haven't been patient, I haven't been kind, I haven't been slow to anger.

But of course I do love my family. It's just been difficult to, I don't know, act like it. I wish I could chalk it all up to being tired, but I've a feeling that doesn't quite cover it. Or maybe it does and I'm making a big stink over nothing. There's this ideal version of me who lives in that part of my imagination where I dream up all all things ideal. That guy is relaxed. That guy isn't fazed by much. That guy is not only willing, but happy to drop everything when he's needed. That guy is able to live in the moment, and is okay with whatever life throws at him. That guy doesn't ask the world to make him ecstatically happy, but is content with, well, being content.

Unfortunately for all involved, I'm soooo not that guy. At least not these days. I've been that guy before, but lately I'm my own antithesis. And that knowledge just seems to upset me more.

Oh yeah, and then there's this whole crisis of faith thing. I've never been totally set on what I believe about God and the divine, but as of late I'm starting to wonder if there's anything to believe in at all. I've heard it said by many people that they envy people of faith for their certainty, a notion which I've always sort of laughed at since my own faith has never been certain at all. It's an endless stream of questions and doubt, wondering and contradicting, and in fact, I find lately that I actually envy atheists for, what seems to me, their certainty about things, or at least the ability not to be bugged by all these goddamn questions. But of course, I'm totally oversimplifying that position. Anyway, it oughtta make next semester at seminary, um, interesting.

So yeah, shitass mood lately. I'm going to post this without proofreading it and then go try to make up for it a little by rubbing my wife's feet.

Leap of Faith - especially for the locals

Not too long ago, I was in Thundercloud Subs hooking it up with some lunchtime sandwich action. Receipt before me, I went to add in the tip to the total amount to pay thanks and tribute to the sandwich constructionists who had once again supplied me with delicious sustenance. At the very goddamn moment I went to put pen to paper, the Violent Femmes song that was playing on the PA, the song which had up to now only been in the background of my consciousness, jumped into one of the most angst-ridden moments known to music wherein I and everyone else within earshot was repeatedly implored to Add It Up.

I gave a little extra that day. You can't ignore shit like that.

Well, I guess you can, and perhaps sometimes you should. But for some reason I didn't, not that day. Tiny little events like that will often cause me to stop and think about the causal, the coincidental, the accidental, the various -al's that our universe may or may not be ruled by. It seems that, regardless of how you view the interactions of all the moving parts that make up existence, at some point you just have to let go. Or more accurately put, recognize that there are some things you don't really have a handle on, never truly did, and likely never will.

Well, I guess you don't have to. You can always try controlling everything. Let me know how that works out for you.

Speaking of trusting in the universe, I seem to have once again signed myself up for a theatrical event that requires deep wells of faith from all involved. Said event is called Slapdash Flimflammery, and is the product of the theater company I was formerly a member of, Loaded Gun Theory. This year marks the fourth occurrence of SDFF, the fourth time that I've participated, and the third time that I've participated as a writer. Of all the things LGT's done, I think SDFF is probably the thing I'm the most proud of primarily because of the amount of trust everybody has to have that somehow, it's all going to work out. All art requires faith, and live performance requires the most, but Slapdash, well, that's in its own league. It goes a little something like this: on the appointed Friday night, a group of writers arrive at the theater, and, armed with nothing more than a laptop and a few guidelines, each set about to write their own 15 - 20 minute play in the course of one night. Directors and actors arrive the next morning to get their scripts and rehearse like mad all day long. Audience arrives at 8 to watch each of the plays performed. It is creation in its most raw form. The first time we did this, we had no idea if it was going to work, or if it was going to fall flat on its face. But I'm here to testify to the fact that it works. There are trips and stumbles, but for the most part, it works. If you're in Austin this weekend, I recommend you check it out. It's magic not to be missed.

You see us as you want to see us: in the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions

I was sitting here the other night studying over the possible essay questions for my upcoming ethics test, and I found myself playing with my pen in that way that Anthony Michael Hall does at the beginning of "The Breakfast Club" when he's trying to figure out what to say in his paper about who he is. Realizing this, I just went with it and started mumbling, "Who am I? Who am I?" with the pen clipped to my lower lip. I then turned my head slowly towards the invisible Judd Nelson glaring at me from the neighboring table, and sheepishly removed the pen from my mouth. There was no audience, so you'll have to trust me that it was a brilliant rendition of a great moment in film. It called to mind other moments of cinematic authorly procrastination, including Billy Crystal in "Throw Momma From The Train" (The night was...sultry) and Nicholas Cage in "Adaptation" (I need a muffin).

The real reason for my procrastination, however, was not laziness. See, I'm currently enrolled in a master's program at a seminary. An Episcopal seminary to be exact. The Episcopal Theological Seminary of the Southwest to be even, um, exacter. You might find that surprising given that one of my most recent posts talked about how much beer I used to swill. Honestly, sometimes I find it kind of strange that I'm on this path. Strange in a positive way though. But that's not the evening's topic. Perhaps another time, and another post. Or ten.

See, I was going over the possible essay questions that may be on the test. It's one of those "two of these six questions will be asked, so you'd better be ready for all of them" situations. I'd already coasted through the first five, gone back and compared them with my notes, and was happy with what I'd come up with. Mostly just comparing and contrasting different ethical theories, considering what each has to say about what. Interesting stuff, to me anyway, but the questions were much too abstract to really be all that inspiring. The last question though, hit very close to a subject that I feel particularly passionate about. I had to really think about how I wanted to articulate my answer, hence the putting-off of the writing, the pen play, the goofiness. The question was basically along the lines of "what political questions should Christians raise when making ethical decisions about our shared life?"

Wow. Where to begin?

As I read it, it basically goes back to the fundamental question of what to do when you have several billion people all stuck on the same planet. You know, like in real life? All these people want a lot of the same things, but the differences between them feel as vast as the universe. And then you throw something as powerful as faith into the mix and you’re lucky you don’t have people killing each other. Oh wait.

Faith makes things tricky because of just how core it can be to one’s persona. It permeates every facet of a person’s being, affecting their viewpoint on everything. This in and of itself isn’t a bad thing. It’s what moved people like MLK, Gandhi, Dietrich Bonhoeffer. But on the other side of world-changing people like that, you have those whose faith makes them arrogant, unwilling to listen. I think too often people of faith forget that they’re on a journey and instead think they’ve already found their ultimate truth. Listen, anybody who tells you they’ve got it all figured out is a liar. These are the ones who, when put into a decision-making role, will attempt to mold their little corner of the world into some kind of ideal vision, a feat which is unrealistic, dangerous, and doomed to fail. God help us when we find ourselves at the mercy of these kinds of people.

So I won’t bore you with the entirety of what I wrote in response to the question, but it basically all boils down to humility. It’s about trying to stretch ourselves to accommodate another person’s point of view. It’s about remembering that even those who agree with us are human beings as much as we are, or in Christian language, children of God. And they’re entitled to as much dignity and respect as those with whom we take communion.

Fortunately, I think my professor agrees with me on this one. I’d have a pretty hard time in this class otherwise.