Oh Yes, Mistakes Got Made

Earlier this week during my internet travels, I ran across a rather entertaining article about a 1995 Newsweek article wherein the author editorialized on the many reasons why the internet was doomed to go the way of Betamax. In a nutshell, his case boiled down to a belief that the state of the internet at that time was about as good as it was ever going to get, and its state, as you may recall, was not so great.

Obviously, things have improved, and pretty much everything in the article turned out to be wrong. Even the author himself, an astronomer and writer by the name of Clifford Stoll, has commented on how very incorrect his predictions were.

I feel for this guy, I really do. I seriously doubt he was the only one back then who was too preoccupied with the internet’s wackness to stop and think about its potential dopeness. He just happened to be one of the ones ballsy enough to put his thoughts into print. And then the internet got all big and amazing and his thoughts went from print to digital and got spread all over the very medium that he predicted would have been long gone by now. I don’t know Clifford Stoll personally, but I’m going to guess that this article presents one of the most inaccurate declarations of his lifetime. And there it is one the internet for the whole world to see and pass on. Shit, I put it on Facebook myself, along with who-knows-how-many other people. But hey, if you’re going to go playing Nostradamus, it probably helps to have a taste for crow, huh?

Stoll’s blunder may be more public than most, but he’s hardly alone in having made big mistakes. So in that spirit, I thought I would share some of the things that I myself have been wrong about, right here on the internet. And I’m limiting this to mistakes that occurred in my adult life because everybody’s stupid when they’re a kid. 

Mickey's Fine Malt Liquor is good drinkin'!
Holy hornet balls, could I ever put that shit back. I fucking loved it. I drank it from the widemouth grenade bottles and I drank it from the 40 ounce bottles and I loved every drop. Now? I’d have to say it qualifies as swill. Plus it’s made by Miller, a brewer I'd rather not support any longer. Please note, however, that this admission of error with regards to the quality of Mickey’s is not a statement of regret with regards to my tattoo of the Mickey’s hornet on my calf. I’m still pretty good with that.  

Vaccines are scary and bad!
When we were pregnant with our first kid, we started running across all these articles about the link between vaccines and autism. Mercury in a needle! Being injected into our precious baby! I’ll admit it, we got ourselves good and freaked out. But then we learned a bit more and realized just how ridiculous the whole facts vs. nonfacts controversy surrounding vaccines really is.  

My 1st marriage will last forever!
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAA!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!!!!! Whew! All right then, moving on. 

I want to become a counselor and help people!
When I enrolled in a master’s program with the goal in mind of becoming a licensed professional counselor, I really thought I had found what I wanted to be when I grew up. I learned a lot, but after a few semesters, I figured out that mental health was not the profession for me. 

I will never be an atheist!
And yet here I sit, an unbeliever. 

I will never put a LOLCat on my blog!
Doh! Actually, I think I've probably already messed this one up.

Blogging is dumb!
This isn’t really too far off from Mr. Stoll’s statement about the internet as a whole. I remember when I first started to run across people’s online journals, many of which were anonymous. I perused a few here and there and found it to be the whiniest bullshit I had ever read. I got it in my head that a bunch of people just writing about whatever the fuck they want to and putting it on the internet was a stupid idea. Then not too too long after that, my friend Tim created the individual blogs on the Loaded Gun Theory site, and lo and behold, I became a blogger.   

So there's just a few of my mistakes for y'all to chew on. I wracked my brain trying to think of some more, but these are honestly the only halfway-interesting ones I could come up with, and that's stretching the definition of "interesting." For those mistakes that I'm unable to recall at the moment, hopefully I at least learned a lesson from them.

Crazy Shit

The day after Christmas, the Ash and I were fortunate enough to have a healthy dose of gifted cash burning a hole out of our collective pocket. Rather than let it escape into the hands of unworthy creditors, we decided to channel it into the coffers of a certain retail furniture establishment known for its flat-packed efficiency and myriad solutions for modern living. Having in mind that we would likely be buying something large in size, we borrowed the minivan owned and operated by Ash’s folks. Though a modern enough vehicle, it has no auxiliary input, which meant that the music on our iPhones was inaccessible, music that we carry around with us so that we won’t have to haul CD’s everywhere, which is why we had no CD’s with us, which is how we came to be listening to the radio. All the stations in town must have held a meeting wherein they conspired to play pure crap during this particular hour of the day, so we somehow ended up listening to a public access station that was broadcasting an interview with a British-sounding gentleman about his plans to clone Jesus Christ. Yeah, that one. Dude wasn’t kidding either. He had the whole thing worked out. It was too bizarre to turn off. Don’t ask me for specifics of his plan, I’m not the crazy British guy with the messiah clone plan, I’m just a guy who was riding in a van on his way to the local efficient living solutions outpost. He did mention hover-donkeys, I remember that much. The interviewer asked if he thought Jesus would be freaked out by the modern world and cars and stuff, and the guy said yes, cars would probably freak Jesus out, but we could explain to him that they’re basically like hover-donkeys. I think he was making an attempt at a joke, but when you’re talking seriously about cloning Jesus Christ, how can the rest of us be expected to know when you’re just kidding around?

For once, I didn’t feel ridiculous about constantly questioning what the hell I’m doing with my life.

People do this, you know. Spend their lives pursuing crazy shit. Sometimes that crazy shit works out and we get stuff like rocket ships and light bulbs. Other times, the crazy shit is completely wrong and ridiculous and you end up with people thinking vaccines cause autism or creationist museums. Or even worse, you get evil crazy shit. I’m looking at you, Hitler.

I know, I’m making the assumption that Jesus clone guy is going to fail. It could be that I’m just one of many millions of naysayers whose naysays will be waylaid when this dude brings about the second coming in his lab. I can live with that.

2009 has been the year I started learning to quit worrying about God. I dropped out of seminary in June, a move that felt as right as the decision to enter in the first place. I can’t quite call myself an atheist now, but I can say that I’m through chasing after a connection to this invisible whatever that I thought I had at one time. Maybe I did have such a tie at some point, or maybe I just had a certain set of chemicals processing through my nervous system that I interpreted as feeling spiritual. Or maybe both. Since then, I’ve felt as unburdened as I have disoriented. Either way, I’m done with trying to find a way to believe in something that all my senses tell me just isn’t there. And while it might seem to be a position of indecision, it feels pretty good from here.

Now hover-donkeys, on the other hand, I can believe in.

Happy New Year, All. 

No Roof

My dreams usually leave me shortly after I wake. The imagery may be fresh in my mind when my eyes first blink open, but no matter how vivid it was, it's often gone by the time I let the dogs out for their morning bladder relief. So when any part of a dream sticks with me, I tend to take note. “Hey dream, you’re still here. Aren’t you gonna run off with all your buddies?”

A couple of nights ago, I had a dream where I lived in a house with a sprawling backyard. It wasn't even a yard, actually, it was a massive clearing bordered on all sides by dense tall-treed forest. In the dream, it was night time, the sky blue-black like a fresh shiner. On one end of the clearing stood another house, and on the other end stood a small church. Both of these buildings were on our property, and both were missing their roofs. I walked into the house to find everything, the phone, the electricity, even internet, working just fine. I don't remember going into the church. But then it occurred to me, “jeez, I just need to get a roof on these buildings and they’ll be good to go. Just think of all the cool shit we could do with ‘em. Think of the parties we could have. We’re talking gatherings of Roman orgy proportion here. Am I really going to let a couple of missing roofs stand between me and a Roman orgy?”

The temptation for me, at first, is to seek meaning in this. What means ye by these night visitations, Sandman? What do the topless house and church represent? An inability to find security anywhere? Unfinished business in different realms of life? Lack of roofing skill?

But then I roll my eyes at myself, or rather, at my inner Jungian, what with his archetypes and his shadows and his dream symbology. Why this pressing need for meaning? Fuck meaning (but do it meaningfully).

I recently withdrew from the seminary where I had been pursuing a Master’s degree in counseling. In my letter, I cited a desire to spend more time with my family as the reason. And while this is certainly part of it, it’s not the whole of my motivation. I’ve simply reached a point where I don’t feel like I belong there, so much so that it would be a charade to continue. I’d be lying. Playing a role. I went there in the first place, in part, to labor on some of my questions pertaining to God and my spiritual life, and labor I did. I sort of wonder if I didn’t subconsciously know that I was going to end up where I am now. It’s a bit depressing, thinking that perhaps I wasted a lot in this pursuit...time, money, energy...and not just my own. And now I’m back here, no real thought for what I want to be when I grow up. I’d always wanted to do something meaningful. But maybe it’s like I said before: fuck meaning.

A church with no rooftop. A vast open clearing. A forest. A roofless house in which everything works.

So now I’m here. I’m a dad, a husband. I’m some people’s friends, other people’s employee. Sometimes I write stuff. Sometimes I make comics. I go to work, I play with my boys, I watch movies with my wife. I try to exercise. I spend too much time deciding which kind of beer to buy. For the last month I’ve been an actor in a play that will open tomorrow night. The question of what I want to be when I grow up is shifting in my mind. As immature as I can be at times, I am grown up, and I’m doing a lot of the things I want to be doing. True, I'm doing some things that I don't want to be doing, but most of those, ultimately, are responsibilities borne out of doing other things I do want to do. I may not want to wash the diapers at 11:30 at night, but I do want to be a dad. It may not be what pays the mortgage, but I’m doing it. And I’ve still got my dreams.

Messiah Bling and other Religious Hilarity

The seminary that I've been attending for the last couple of years must be peddling student contact info. How else to explain how I got on the mailing list of the people trying to sell this shit:

That's right y'all, 24 karat gold diamond* encrusted sandals, just like the Son of God wore back in the day. Motherfucker walked on water in those things. Maybe you can too!

Oh, and I've been meaning to post this one for a while. Remember back in high school when military recruiters seemed to be coming out of the woodwork trying to get you to sign up to do your duty to God and country? Did you think that all ended after you graduated? Well guess again. Check out what I found in my campus mailbox my first semester:

I had no idea that the military's marketing and recruitment budget included an allotment for the chaplaincy corps, but apparently it does. My brain is coming up with all manner of snarky commentary to type here, but I feel like the picture kind of speaks for itself. What do you see? Some pretty flowers.

So speaking of seminary......I don't know that I'm going to continue my studies with them. I'm realizing more and more that I simply don't belong there. I've written here before about why I chose to attend there, one of which was to grapple with some of my Big Questions about God, religion, the whole bag. And it seems that in that grappling, a few things have happened.

1. It's all started feeling more and more like a house of cards. It seems that the more we delved into topics like the origins of scripture and the beginnings of Christianity, the less divine the whole picture appeared. At every step of the way it seems, there's someone, some group, with an agenda, one which they promote by means of imbuing events and people with divine status, fitting events of their present into prophecies of their past. And it's not like we were studying anti-religious texts, and it's not as if I stepped onto campus thinking that the Bible was the literal word of God, but I didn't quite expect to find out just how much politics went into the creation of the text we now have, even before King James got his royal hands on it.
   
2. I grew tired of it. The whole thing. I'm just sick to death of all the questions, the seeking, the wondering, the quest for meaning, trying to be close to a God that, if he does exist, doesn't really seem to want to be found. I can't live like that. I just want to live my life, be myself, be happy, love my family and friends, write, create, and do the right things because they're the right things to do. I'm tired of putting so much effort into trying to feel IT. Time was I did feel it. I felt something anyway. I don't know if it was a delusion or if it was real but fleeting, but whatever it was, I'm sick of trying to get it back at the expense of the now, the moment. The meaning is right here. I just want to be.
   
3. And ya know, let's face it. I suck at being religious. I can't go to church. I've got a foul mouth, a sick sense of humor, and a taste for beer. Personally, I believe that if there is an all-seeing, all-knowing, all-loving God out there, then he, she, or it loves all this stuff about me. But I'm tired of thinking about it.
   

So that's me, that's where I'm at. I think I fall under the heading of an agnostic, but honestly, I don't even fucking care. I'm not mad at God or the church or whatever, I'm just kinda done. For now anyway.

Anyway, uh, Happy Easter?

* Yes, I know it says they're crystals and not diamonds, but "diamond encrusted" just sounds better.

Me and Religion: A Post in Two Parts

So a bit of background first: I wrote the first part of this post back around September or October, several weeks into my most recent semester at the seminary. I set it aside, fully intending to finish it, but never got around to it. Honestly, I think I've been avoiding it. I've opened it up a few times over the last couple of months and thought to myself, "you know, Holmes, you really ought to finish that." And then I'd close it. I wrote it during a time when I was pretty depressed, which is perhaps another post all on its own. But now the semester is over, and I think it's time to revisit it, if for no other purpose than as an exercise in self-exploration. Having said that, this might be kind of long, sooo, yeah, do as you will. I'll indicate where the old text ends and the new text begins.

So I don't really know if this is "ha ha" funny or "oh hey what a surprise" funny or "I think I'll go be a super villain now" funny. But in whatever sense, it's funny. To me anyway. So to recap, I'm in my third semester at seminary, the goal of which is to move into the counseling field. I chose the seminary for several really good reasons:

1. I fully believe that the spiritual side of the self is of great importance to many people's mental health and well-being, and so I wanted to be able to at least talk about it when and if it ever comes up. Not that everyone in the world is Christian, but rather that Christianity is one vehicle, a language, a symbology, through which to try and make sense of the divine. And it's a vehicle whose language I am somewhat familiar with. So it's a place to start.
2. The decision to move into this field had a lot to do with something of a spiritual renewal of my own, though it was one that was fraught with questions. Thus, I wanted to put myself in an environment where I could grapple with these questions. I wasn't looking to be spoonfed easy answers - I just wanted a place where I could struggle with the questions, hopefully with other strugglers.
3. It's cheaper than UT or St. Ed's.

But now, here I am in my third semester at this place, and while I can definitely say I've learned a great deal about the theory and practice of the field that I intend to go into, I also find myself realizing that any and all concepts of an interventionist God that cares one iota about the human condition simply doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me anymore. I've held off on writing about this because I've been trying to identify a narrative to plot how I got from wherever I was to where ever I am. But I can't quite see it. It's like a book with a bunch of the pages ripped out.

So that was sort of unexpected.

I have made one decision though: I'm not going to run from this.

And with that, I stopped writing and the post sat idle. What follows picks up where it left off.

The questions are big, and not easily answered, perhaps not even answerable at all. Which then begs the question, do they even matter? Which, of course, is just yet another goddamn question. But I don't feel as if just walking off in disgust is quite the way for me to go. It's not as if the questions will just go away. I don't think humans are wired that way. And to stick with the metaphor, I have to wonder if much of the discomfort and unease that I feel is a result of the process of tearing out some of my old faulty wiring and looking for new ways to hook things up, a process that's been going on for a number of years now, and will probably continue for years to come, perhaps even until the day I die. Maybe that's life. Maybe that's the journey. Maybe it never makes sense, and we simply make peace with the fact that we just don't know, and that any one of us is just as likely to be as full of shit as the next person. To me, this inspires a sense of humility. Why doesn't it do that for everybody? Argh, more questions!

Maybe my problem is my perspective. I see a question, I feel the need to find its answer. If the answer is not forthcoming, then harumph and argh and well fuckall, etc. Sometimes, that is. Other times, I'm perfectly laid back enough to accept whatever. It could be, however, that the shift I'm making is larger and in a different direction than I expected. I definitely didn't plan to somehow become "more Christian." In a lot of ways, I haven't really felt Christian for quite a while, and that's only become more solidified over the past few months. But I've never before seriously considered that maybe, just maybe, This Is All There Is. But now I am. I'm not making that as a declaration. In fact, I'm running pretty short on anything much that I can declare. Instead, it's a new question, another one to toss in the old thought grinder for some mulling over for the next few...however long. Just another thing I just don't know.

In talking to a friend of mine about all this, she suggested an exercise to try to get at the heart of it, and it goes something like this: Ignoring external influences as much as possible, including other people's opinions, political leanings, religious background, etc, write down the things that you truly, deep down in your core, believe to be true. It'll probably only be a few things. Maybe even just one. You don't have to prove it, just state it. So here's mine, in no particular order:

1. Everyone who has ever lived and ever will live is capable of great good, unthinkable evil, and everything in between.
   
2. We are not the sole architects of our lives. We are born into situations with people and certain inheritances, and given certain advantages and disadvantages. Still, we encounter choices that are ours and ours alone to make.
   
3. Our lives and our decisions affect other people. Ignoring this fact causes harm.
   
4. The human race has discovered so much in its time, yet there is still so much we do not know and cannot presently explain. This fact should humble us each enough to treat others with respect.

So that's all for now. I imagine this list will evolve over the years. Perhaps it will grow. Maybe I'll find better ways to state things. Maybe some things will be shrugged off entirely.

And with that, I'm off to live life some more.

Little shots of happy

1. That Crappy McShitass stated of mind that I was dealing with a while back seems to have lifted over the last few weeks. I can't point to any one thing in particularly that sent that wicked little storm cloud on its way, but such is the way with these things sometimes. The way out is usually through.

2. Professor Simon's teaching lessons on cause and effect. Observe:That's right, tickle the fuzzhead (cause), you get a smile (effect).

3. Those of you who keep up with my wife's blog, or who know us in the flesh know that a while back, we were worried that Henry might have lead poisoning. Fucking lead poisoning! What year is this again? Long story short, the kid was showing all the signs, none of which had been apparent prior to us moving into this house we're in, which was built in 1946, lead paint's American heyday. Well, I'm pleased to announce that the results are in and my little boy is just fine. There may be lead in the walls, perhaps a bit in the soil, and maybe even some in my pencil, but none of it seems to have gotten into Henry's bloodstream. Beyond that, both his appetite and his energy level seem to have returned with a vengeance. Of course, now I have all this useless information that I culled from the Texas Property Code just rolling around in my head, looking to be put to use.

4. People keep asking me about how school is going, and I'm starting to feel a bit like a broken record telling them that I took this semester off because of the new baby. I know I'm going back in the fall, but that seems so very far away. Not just timewise, but also because, faithwise, I'm in an odd place. But that's fodder for another post. Still, there's some exceedingly good news on the school front. This little jolt of joy is one that I've been sitting on for a while because I just knew that if I made any sort of announcement about it, it would somehow fall through. I didn't dare say anything before it was absolutely 100% certain, so certain was I of my power to enjinxanate the situation. But we've hit the 100% mark now, so I can tell you. See, my employer has this cool little benefit called tuition assistance where they'll reimburse you the cost of your tuition for any higher learnings you may wish to pursue. There are some strings attached, but they're quite reasonable strings, not like those slightly psychotic strings that like to play mind games. Except the thing is, when I started at the seminary, the company didn't want to approve my request for reasons I never could quite get to the bottom of. Fine. I went ahead with my plans and got through two semesters. Then one morning, I happened to be having a friendly conversation with our company HR guy, and the subject of school comes up. Being the HR guy, he asks if I'm taking advantage of the tuition benefits, to which I respond with my sob story. "Let me see what I can do" he says. Barely an hour later, I get a call back from the benefits department saying they've approved my request. I got all my paperwork in and the check came through.

I suppose I ought to take it as some kind of sign.

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.

Flower Child

He did this himself. For real real.

The boy has discovered the joy of plastering stickers all over everything. Y'oughtta see The Ash's pregnant belly. Covered in stickers! Maybe she'll post 'em.

This is perhaps a rather unceremonious way of bringing an end to a lengthy blogging hiatus, but ceremony is often a rather rotten plank to stand on. Suffice it to say that I've been busy. Not just the writing, but the blog reading and commenting has waned. Which is kinda sad seeing as how it was NaBloPoMo and all. I've decided that since participation in NaBloPoMo was a non-possibility for me, I'm going to make January into Holmes Blog Posting Month, or HoBloPoMo for short. It ain't my fault how dirty that sounds. Why January, you ask? For one, we'll have a new baby, which is sure to provide fodder for at least one, maybe two whole posts. Secondly, my birthday happens in January, which makes for at least one post where you can all leave comments of a happy birthday nature. Third, um, yeah. January is HoBloPoMo. If any o' y'all got any free time on your hands and want to design a HoBloPoMo logo for me (that is not completely X-rated), I'll be your best friend.

I don't mind telling you, this has been a challenging semester. Not only has the coursework been challenging, there was also this interesting interplay between the two different disciplines, the strictly secular psychology on the one hand, and the theology on the other. They pulled my brain in different directions...which is not to say that they conflicted, but rather that they inspired and required very different types of thinking, both in form and content. But interestingly enough, they intersected in some unexpected ways. They both ask questions about concepts like "natural" and "freedom." They both ask questions about how we can help those in need. And arriving at an absolute in either one is a sure sign that there is something you're probably missing.

But I finished my last paper about thirty minutes ago. The shit ain't spellchecked, maybe I'll remember to do so before I print it out, maybe not. I'm just sitting here enjoying my Anchor Steam Christmas (thanks again, Whit) and relishing the fact that I'm about to hit the Publish Post button for the first time in weeks.

Seven + Seven

Sometimes you're just walking down the street minding your own business when POW! some dirty ninja jumps out from behind a dumpster and zings you with a damn ninja star. And then, as if you weren't already bleeding all over the pavement, another ninja swoops down from above an awning and pops you with yet another ninja star.

So it was that I got tagged not once, but twice for the same meme by two different people, Cami and Sybil. It's that seven things meme where I'm supposed to tell you seven random facts about myself, and seeing as how I get dosed twice, it appears that I have to come up with seven + seven things to share with you. Since I've been letting the old blog get cold with neglect, I'm going to cheat a little bit and use some of those seven + seven things for updates on the latest in the wide world of the Holmes.

1) For those of you who don't read my wife's blog, first of all, shame on you, and second of all, it looks very much like we will be moving in a couple of weeks. No, you didn't miss anything, our place has been off the market for a while now, but that didn't stop it from getting an offer. Here's hoping it all goes through.

2) Clrly i neds mor lernings:

Get a Cash Advance

3) Speaking of which, I have to pat myself on the back just a wee tiny bit because I realized that this time around on the higher education trip, I'm taking the whole thing much more seriously. Part of it, of course, is that I'm paying for it myself, along with all the support I get from my wife in giving me time to go to class and do the work I need to do. Plus the fact that I feel pretty compelled to move towards this line of work. They say you get out of education what you put into it, and I have to confess, I slacked a lot on the putting in part when I was in college. I got decent grades, sure, but there's more I could have done. But I had a great time.

4) My son is crazy. Or rather, he's cwazy. No really, he'll tell you so himself. One of his latest things to inform us is "Henry cwazy! CWAAAZZY!" Then he'll run real fast, fall down, lift up his adorable little head, and say, "Cwaaazy! CWAAAAZY!"

5) I crave real true community, the kind where people know and care for each other. I'm still trying to figure out exactly what this means to me, and how to find it, but I sometimes feel really disconnected from my fellow earth dwellers.

6) The Catcher In The Rye was the first book to change my life.

7) Between getting sick a few weeks ago and the demands of school, I haven't done anything resembling exercise in about a month. My clothes still fit, so I can't complain too much, but I find that with decreased physical demands being placed on my body, I'm more susceptible to eating sweets, particularly donuts. I asked my friend Brandon about this, and he filled me in on the fact that as you lower your amount of exercise, your body actually starts to smell like a donut, leaving you more vulnerable when actual donuts are available. Who knew?

8) I mentioned my wife's Hollywood crush a while back, which prompted her to ask if had any such crushes, which made me realize I sorta don't. My only famous-person crush would have to be Liz Phair since she sings dirty songs about love and pain and is hot while doing so, though I don't think she counts as a celebrity since I've never seen her on Famecrawler.

9) My wife sometimes accuses me of being ghetto because I'll do things like eat a half-piece of toast that's been sitting on the counter for a few hours, but she's the one who wants to keep chickens in the back yard at our new place. Chickens. In the middle of the city. Now who's ghetto?

10) I don't know all that much about Scotch, but I know enough about it to know that if you want to buy me a bottle of liquor for a gift, a bottle of something single-malt would be well-received and shared.

11) I'll spend a lot of time thinking about trying to accept people as they are, faults and all, without judging or stereotyping or hating, and I'll think about how people are the way they are for a reason, and people each have their own strengths and weaknesses, and how even though somebody might do or think something that I absolutely loathe, I might very well be just like them had I walked in their shoes, and I'll get to thinking about all this stuff and get this warm fuzzy love the world vibe going, and then some jackass in a Beemer will cut me off or tailgate me and I'll instantly shove that person into the profile of someone I hate.

12) I made up a playlist of all my favorite heavy music to listen to when I'm by myself, but I find that on the rare occasion I am by myself, I rarely listen to it. Kids are loud enough.

13) As regular readers of this blog know, I started a masters program in counseling at a seminary last spring. As the first class day was approaching, I pulled out the pink sheet of paper with the schedule printed on it to get some piece of info, and realized that I had missed the first class day! Holy shit! Not how I wanted to start out my graduate career! Frantic, I looked up the professor's email address in the school directory and went to email him, though I don't recall what I was planning to say. But when I pulled up my email, there was a message from the director of my program stating that the first day of class had been cancelled due to the sudden death of the professor's mother. So you can imagine the series of emotions that hit me in the next split second. I started to blog about it back then, but just felt too, I don't know, too weird about it.

14) I dislike dancing, so don't ask.

I'm supposed to tag seven people now, but there's no way that's happening. I'll just tag Ashley since she needs a good taggin.

An ever so brief respite

I know it's Wednesday night and all, but it's taken me this long to realize that I'm only now recovered from this past weekend and the extremely busy days and nights that led up to it. There was, of course, Henry's birthday party, an event which brought together family from both sides of the tree, not to mention a couple of boyfriends who got dragged along by various aunts. The boy was so wired by the end of it that we had to coax him down off the ceiling with a stick.

But even before the party, I had a full day of classes, wherein I turned in two assignments: one quite ginormous, the other small to mediumish. Oh, and I took a test. So I'd been a pretty industrious Holmes in the days leading up to this rather full weekend. Which is why, as soon as we got Henry to bed Saturday night, I hit the sack too. I don't even think it was 10 yet.

Of course, the semester isn't over. I've several more tests to take, two more little papers to write, and one more heavyweight assignment to knock out. But for the moment, I'm relishing this lightweight feeling. Which is not to say that I'm sitting on my ass, um, writing blog posts all day. I've got tons of reading to do, but I'm on top of that. But I will say that it's been kind of nice to take the last few days off from being heavily engaged in the work of a huge assignment. I'll be back to it soon enough.

But in the name of all things unacademic, let's talk about something completely trivial, like, oh I don't know, my wife's Hollywood crush on Christian Bale. I must say, I don't particularly mind this little infatuation of hers. Hell, I practically encourage it. He's not only a handsome bastard, but he's an immensely talented actor. He's the best Batman/Bruce Wayne ever, and I'll exchange heated email and/or blog commentary with anyone who says otherwise. He's followed closely by Michael Keaton, with Adam West running a distant third. Besides his other amazing performances, there's also the fact that he's the kind of guy that will say the kinds of things that you'll find between 2:25 - 2:35 in the video below. Feel free to fast forward to it. Gotta love him.

Liveblogging theology class

When I decided I wanted to go into counseling, I decided on seminary precisely because I wanted to include the theological element as part of my education. One of my biggest concerns about the world we live in is the destructive power held by fundamentalist or cultish religious institutions over both individuals and groups as a whole. By this, I don't mean that I intend to become "the religion counselor." I have absolutely no intention of trying to bring clients around to my way of seeing things or immediately jumping to the person's religious background as the source of all their ills. That would be stupid. Besides the fact that it ain't my job, I'm also trying to figure things out myself, and probably will be for a lifetime. I don't envision therapy sessions as great theological debates. In many cases, religion may not come up in therapy, and that's cool with me too. All I mean is that I want to be prepared to speak to the spiritual aspects of people's lives as a facet of their being, and to understand where people are coming from when they're coming out of the types of backgrounds I described above. What interests me is helping people find a path to freedom.

I am, of course, at the early part of my education, not yet jaded or burned out in the least, and my idealism is at a high. But I've come to realize that idealism is part of who I am, and it's only been in the last few years that I've started to be cool with that and think of it as a strength rather than a liability. I fully expect that I will experience and learn things that may modify my vision, but I suspect that the idealism will remain.

When I tell people about what I'm going to school for, I sometimes get the impression that they think I'm somehow working the system from the inside, as if I'm going undercover in the enemy's lair to learn all of its secrets, and when I come back out I'll use what I know against it. Nobody has come out and said this, and maybe I'm totally mistaken. Either way, that's not at all the case. I consider myself to be a person of faith, though it's accompanied by all the questioning, doubting, and wondering that I think just comes along with being human.

Anyway, I decided to try liveblogging last night's theology class. And just so you know, I was paying attention and participating in class. My notes are about 5 times as long as what follows. Enjoy.

6:19
Class hasn't started yet, and I'm not sure if this is really a good idea. It might be interpreted as "not paying attention" by the vast readership. Fie. Fie I say!

6:20
I really should be paying attention though. He might say something that will spark an idea for my next paper. Or make sense out of this last reading.

6:25
I got to class too late to sit in the backrow, so in order to be able to plug in my laptop, I ended up in the front row. I don't think I've sat in the front row since junior high.

6:32
Important answers to important questions: 12 point, Times New Roman, double-spaced, 1 inch margins. No wingdings.

6:57
Teacher makes fun of Elijah.

7:21
Liveblogging not going so good. Paying too much attention.

7:24
I don't think I'll ever get past the belief that those of religious faith should be subversives. How that manifests itself varies, I don't know exactly. I just think that religious types who place their faith in politics in an attempt to reinvent the world into their own heavenly vision have lost sight of whatever it was they were seeking. There will always be empire. Beware of becoming the empire. I guess I'm arguing for separation of church and state from a different angle.

7:36
Break!

7:48
Still on break. Class is three hours long, I love that they put out snacks at the midway point. It's like Kindergarten.

7:56
I may be liveblogging, but the dude next to me is playing solitaire. Of course, we're still on break.

8:11
I should read Steinbeck.

8:14
Sometimes I want to live in Metaphor Land. Literal City is a drag. This is a good class for that.

8:40
It seems that we live in a world of primal narratives. It is said that to forget history is to be doomed to repeat it, suggesting that learning from history allows us to evolve. But perhaps these narratives always exist and recur no matter what. Cain didn't kill Abel thousands of years ago, Cain always kills Abel, over and over again. Neil Gaiman gets it.

8:56
Rowan Williams may be the Archbishop of Canterbury and he may have been a professor at Oxford and some people may consider him the greatest living theologian, but somebody needs to give him a lesson in punctuation and ending sentences.

9:14
From my notes: We can't read history as if the people in it were just like us. That imposes us on them, rather than seeing them for what they are.
We can't write history off as too foreign for us to relate to since that is what we are built on.
We can't write history's people off as just wrong, assuming that our present ways of being are self-evidently right.

9:21
Time to go!

Dispatches from the Holmesfront

Or, bullet point versions of posts that The Holmes has been wanting to write, but hasn’t the time for currently

The Business of Busyness - Somebody emailed me recently and asked if we (meaning The Ash and I) could possibly be doing any more things at once. The answer is yes, yes we could, but then we would be certifiably batshit insane. New baby on the way, toddler on the loose, condo on the market, school, work, etc. I'm actually slightly terrified of what will happen if the condo actually sells in the next month or two because then "finding new place" and "moving" will officially have to be added to the to-do list. In the midst of everything, I sometimes have to stop and remind myself what it's all for, that there's actually a reason for all this busyness, a goal behind each and every item on our list. That helps a bit. I've also been setting aside a bit of time each day to just stop doing, stop thinking, and just be. Just for a few minutes. I suppose one could call it meditation, though I'll be damned if I can do a full lotus position. It might get me through the semester.

Next Batch of Biscuit - I've been feeling kind of bad that I haven't blogged much about baby number two. True, I've written about him some, both here and over at Dadcentric, but it seems like when Henry was enwombenating, I was posting about him all the time. Of course then, there wasn't a real live toddler running around, and life was, I suppose, a bit slower. It's not that I don't think about the new baby, because I do every day. I guess it's just that his December arrival seems so far away because right now is so very very full. But I promise you this little guy…and this is where I switch from talking to readers to talking to my new son: you're going to get every bit as much love and attention from your folks as your big bro did and does. We can't wait to meet you. Until then, you just hang out in there and make.

Another Lesson in Not Making Assumptions - Perhaps it's because I'm taking more classes this semester and I spend more time among my fellow seminary students, but I'm starting to get the feeling that perhaps I'm not the only one there that doesn't quite “fit in.” Which I suppose means that I fit in just fine. True, I am one of the youngest by far, and there are quite a few more women than men in my program, but the more people I talk to, and the more theology class debates I sit through, the more I realize that I'm not the only one with some wacky ideas about God and religion that some might think would fall outside the norm of what you'd find in such a setting. It would seem that in presenting my own challenge to the assumption of what kind of person goes to seminary, I have in turn had my own assumptions about what kind of person goes to seminary challenged. What brings us all there, I suppose, is a desire to educate ourselves so we can be of service to our fellow earth dwellers, and the notion that perhaps there's a spiritual aspect to our work that functions along with everything else.

Get Some Beer…And Some Cleaning Products – In further evidence that there are Others Like Me at seminary…and this might be just because my theology teacher looks like he would be friends with Floyd from "True Romance", but the other day when he talked about Saint Stephen “getting stoned”, I noticed several people tittering like teenagers. What is this, freshman sociology?

Kid Toys, Adult Party - Last Sunday was Free Museum Day in lovely Austin, Texas, so I scooped up the kiddo and we headed for the Austin Children's Museum while The Ash and her brother painted our living room. Henry had a blast and all, but man, I think I want to rent this place out for my birthday party. We can all drink beer while we play in the Shadow Garden or develop our problem solving skills in the Tinkerer's Workshop. We can station the keg in the game center and play all manner of drinking games. We can use the Austin Kiddie Limits center for karaoke.

For Your Purchasing Pleasure – I’m thinking we should make ink prints of the placenta and silkscreen some tee-shirts and onesies.

Be a lot cooler if you did

School started up for me again this past weekend. Tricky bastard totally snuck up on me. I had known all summer that there was this magical mythical day called September 8th upon which my studies would resume, but every time I sent up the periscope to see how far off it was, it seemed ages away. And then all of a sudden it was right on top of me. Lousy periscope.

Anyway, I'm officially taking twice as many classes as I did last semester (1 x 2 = 2). After we went over the reading list in my first class, I knew exactly what my first order of business was: finish Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire as quickly as possible. There was no way I could just leave myself hanging in the middle of it. Books 5, 6, and 7 will just have to wait until the holiday break because I've got a nice hefty load this go round. Blogging may also be somewhat sporadic. Of course, baby # 2 is due right around that time, so he may have something to say about how much reading I do. Ah well, so be it.

I did successfully complete the first order of business mentioned above, and have now moved on to my school reading. I won't bore you with any of the stuff I've now crammed into my head, but I would just like to say, if I ever have my picture included in a textbook, I hope it is as amusing as this one:

Yes, you're reading that right, her name is Karen Horney. I don't recall exactly what her contribution was, but I would like to point out that the text was careful to state that her last name is pronounced "Horn-eye." Funny that they didn't provide the pronunciation for any other names. I think I had that same look on my face the first time I watched "Friday."

Stop and smell the flamingos

This morning, I handed in my final paper for my ethics class, thus bringing to a close my first semester at the seminary. I've been feeling a bit odd about this little milestone all week, so it was only appropriate that when I arrived on campus this morning, I saw that the grounds looked liked this:

Yes my friends, pink lawn flamingos all over the place. A strange sight on any campus, but especially odd upon the grounds of a seminary. Not sure what theological insight these birds have to offer, but I'm sure they're not hurting anything.

But like I said at the start of this post, I've been feeling a bit strange all week about the close of the semester. See, I spent a lot of years trying to figure out something that I wanted to do with myself, and then when that something made itself known to me, it was as if the whole world opened up, and the reality behind reality became visible. Everything, every moment, every action, every person became so rich with meaning, it was overwhelming sometimes. This all probably sounds quite odd, and in truth, it feels very strange to type it, but that's the best I know how to explain it.

But once the semester started, I settled into the business of being family guy/full-time working guy/part-time grad student guy, and just like anything else that you do long enough, it became part of the routine. It's not that I didn't enjoy it, because I did, but the reading, the studying, the writing, the going to class, it was all simply part of the job, and there were times when I just sort of forgot about what it was exactly that I was doing all of this for. The fact is, I'm going to be in school for a number of years to come, so on this very first step of the journey, the destination still seems very far away.

But now at the close of the semester, I can definitively state that the journey has begun, and this first leg is completed. The end is still very far away, but I'm a tiny bit closer than I was a few months ago.

In the meantime, there is the here and now and all the joys that come with it. I had brought Henry along with me to turn in my paper, and he seemed to be as fascinated by the flamingos as I was amused by them.

In the afternoon, we went down to the annual Violet Crown festival, where we ran into quite a few friends, and afterwards we joined in the celebration for our friend Tim's 30th birthday. Here's hoping it's the start of a great summer.

I call this one "Too Much Symbolism"

Thunder Kiss '07

Henry got his first kiss today...that is, from someone who was not involved in his conception or anyone related to the responsible parties. We were in a semi-decadent grocery mood, so we stopped by Senseless Markup, er, Central Market because they gots the goodies AND because they gots a playground where the wee'uns can work off some o'that extra energy. So while The Ash shopped, The Biscuit joined the rest of the little folk on the playground. Me? I'll be honest, I sorta didn't know what to do with myself. I'm not used to Henry being able to run around on playground full of kids and hold his own. All of our park trips up to now have been with a crawling baby, so this was a somewhat different game. I tried to stick close without hovering. Go on Dad, you're embarrassin' me in front of the fellas! Soon enough I'll have to drop him off six blocks from school and leave the windows rolled up so none of his friends accidentally hear his Dad's old music.

Exaggerations aside...at one point, Henry got into a serious game of Dirt Pile with a little girl around his age. Rather than compete with separate piles though, they pooled their resources and cooperated on one massive mound. If we put our dirt together, we can make an even BIGGER pile, yo! The little girl's mom was standing nearby, and we struck up a conversation about how totally badass our kids are and how cool it was that they were exemplifying the spirit of cooperation. And that's when the lovebug must have bitten Henry on his fuzzy little head because he just reached over and gave his Dirt Pile partner a kiss. Not a speck of hesitation. So there I am standing there wondering, "Uh, is this lady about to freak cuz my kid kissed her kid? Am I about to have to pay for a cooties shot?" Fortunately, she was cool, and her response just about killed me - in an Austrian accent, she said, "What is it they call that in English? First base?" Yes ma'am, yes indeed.

Oh yeah, almost hit PUBLISH without dropping my good news on ya'll! I got an A minus on my first test! I don't really know how much letter grades matter at the graduate level, but it was still a nice feeling. Here's hoping that sets the tone for the rest of my time at the seminary.

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.