241. (relatively) small church and big questions

So let me tell you about the church I've been attending. It's called Quest and there are two things I liked immediately about it.

First, it isn't a mega-church like Mars Hill. After moving to Seattle, I went to Mars Hill for about a month and while I thought the teaching was good, it was just way too big, especially for someone who came out of a house church setting (see blog 175). Quest isn't exactly a small church (three Sunday services), but it's not so large that I feel anonymous.

Second, the messages are challenging - challenging in ways that go beyond me and my own little life, challenging in a way that more churches should be. What I mean is, their sermons are about initiating change in the world, about making the world a better place, about social justice. Their vision is local as well as global (a couple weeks ago, a woman shared about a mission trip to Congo and the pastor shared abut his trip to Thailand, Myanmar, and Japan).

This is exciting to me because there was a time last year when I was doing a lot of writing and thinking about the church and what it is that Jesus wants to do in the world through the church (see blog 216 for one example). See, I don't think Christianity is just about getting people saved, especially if you narrowly define salvation as having someone pray the sinner's prayer.

Now I don't want to get bogged down in a debate about what constitutes salvation. What I'm trying to get at is the idea that Christianity has to be about more than just getting people to pray a certain prayer. When you look at the history of the first century church, you quickly get the idea that their understanding of what it meant to be a follower of Christ was very different from what it has become today. For them, identifying themselves as a follower of Christ meant they could be tortured and/or killed. Now I'm sorry if what I'm about to say next offends anyone, but I really don't think first century Christians would have been willing to die for the kind of Christianity that gets preached in many mainline churches today.

As a side note, I understand that we live in a pluralistic, wealthy society and as such, it can be difficult for the gospel to find traction. By that I mean that we in America enjoy living in a place where we can worship freely. We also live in a place where even those living at the poverty line have it far better than most of the rest of the world. These facts might seem obvious to some but it's worth mentioning because historically (and even in present day), Christianity is sometimes most richly practiced and experienced where it is most heavily persecuted. Again, I point to the first century church as an example of this. A more contemporary example might include the church in Russia before the fall of Communism and present day churches in the Middle East.

Maybe, in a way, it's more difficult to live an authentic Christian life in a society without persecution. Wait, let me rephrase that. Maybe it's more difficult to live an authentic Christian life apart from persecution. No, that's not what I mean to say either.

See, I happen to hold the belief that the Gospel can bring life, meaning, and purpose to anyone - not just the oppressed, but for the wealthy as well. However, there are certainly ways in which it can be harder for the teachings of Christ to be lived out (as opposed to merely practiced or aped) in an affluent society. Even Jesus made it plain that "it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God," (Matthew 19:24). And I wonder if what Jesus is saying there can be applied to nations as well - is it just as difficult for rich nations to live out the kingdom of God?

Okay, I've veered far off topic. What I had meant to write about was how the sermons at Quest church are challenging me to think about how I live out my faith in practical (and impractical) ways. They seem to have a very outward focus which I find a refreshing break from the inward, navel-gazing tenor of some other churches. I've heard far too many sermons about personal prayer and personal discipline and analyzing one's personal spiritual health. I'm tired of all this spiritual narcissism.

I want to know what Christ wants to do about the widening political division in America. I want to know what Christ wants to do about AIDS in Africa and Asia. I want to know what Christ wants to do about the meth epidemic, about global warming, about corruption.

On a more personal, local level, I want to know how Christ wants me to behave at work. I want to know how I can be a blessing to my coworkers when much of my day is spent pulling files and boxes (I work in a warehouse). I want to know how I can use the gifts God has given me to further the work of his kingdom. I want to know how I (as a private, introspective, introverted sort of person) can share and/or live out my faith.

Sigh.

Big questions, big ideas, but my voice is so small (and my blog so incoherent).

One last thing about Quest. I like that the pastor freely admits to not having all the answers. He seems to be wrestling with some of the same questions I am and that's tremendously encouraging to me.

The answers are out there. God has a plan and we have a part.

If I don't write before then, happy new year everyone.

240. oh no, not again

I would first of all like to apologize for my lack of entries. I try to post at least one entry per week. It's been more than two weeks since my last entry. In my (feeble) defense, the internet has been down for the past three days and I did have a blog entry just about ready to post (and I'll probably be posting that one in a few days) but I was too lazy to finish that entry when I knew I wouldn't be able to upload it.

I had planned on finishing that entry and posting it tonight (internet access came back on this afternoon) but there's something on my mind and I want to get it out before it slips away (as inspiration and ideas are wont to do).

See...hmm, how to begin, how much context to include...this has been an odd year for me. No, I don't mean because of the move to Seattle. I wrote about it back in February (see blog 126) and it basically has to do with the fact that for the first time in my life, I've been content as a single person.

For those who didn't know me back when, it's hard to understand what a big deal it is for me to write that because I've had more than one friend say to me, "would you just shut up about being single already?" I used to complain about it all the time. It was like this aching hole in my life that I desperately wanted to fill. The ache was so bad, it weighed heavily on everyday decisions.

For example, sometimes I would drive down to Borders and if someone were to ask me why I was going, I'd probably tell them that I wanted to browse the new fiction section or to look at magazines. And while that's what I'd do while I was there, the real reason was to see if I might meet some really cool girl reading some really cool book that I could make some really cool comment on which would be the beginning of a really cool relationship.

Fact is, even if I did meet such a girl reading just such a book and even if I thought of some witty remark to make about it, there's no way I'd have had the balls to deliver it. See, I have no game whatsoever - zero, zip, zeitgeist (yeah, I know zeitgeist doesn't fit there but I heard the word the other day and it sounded so hip and smart, I was dying to use it). The only pickup line I know is, "hello," and I have no followups. Of course some might say, just be yourself, but "myself" doesn't like to meet new people (I find it stressful and terribly awkward even if it's something as casual as talking to the person cutting my hair) and so being that wouldn't help at all.

Anyway, so that going-to-Borders example is one example of how sad and pathetic my life used to be. Think that's not so bad? How's this. Sometimes I'd see an ad for an art exhibit that looked really interesting but I wouldn't go because one of the reasons I wanted to have a girlfriend was so that I would have someone to discuss art and ideas with and the thought of seeing yet another art show alone was just too disappointing and so I just wouldn't go at all.

I was that lonely and that frustrated ever since I graduated from high school.

And then for some reason, once 2006 rolled around, all those feelings went away.

I can't explain it. It's not like I had some grand epiphany. Nothing dramatic occurred in my life. I didn't have some mountaintop experience with God. There were no big changes in my life at all, really. I was just driving around one day late January or early February when I realized that I didn't care that I was single anymore. And I don't remember the circumstances surrounding this realization because that's how much I didn't care about it. Despite the fact that my singleness was something that weighed heavily on me for years and years, it went away so cleanly and effortlessly that even when I realized it wasn't there anymore, I wasn't surprised. I wasn't even curious about why/how it went away. I wasn't even happy or sad to be rid of it - that's how completely it just went away.

Recently though (say, in the past two weeks), I've been casually praying a prayer that goes something like this, "Lord, please teach me about love." In praying that, I'm merely asking God to help me understand what it is to love, what it looks like and how I can better love those around me. And I suppose the subtext of that prayer is asking God, once again, to bring someone special into my life because to my mind, the easiest way to learn about love is to be in love.

Okay, so ALL that to say that tonight at church, there was this girl sitting at the end of my row and I felt something I hadn't felt in a long time. I thought she looked really amazing - short hair, a sharp, smart dresser (though not overly trendy), a friendly smile, and she was at church - and for the first time this year, I was sad that I was single.

I'm still too new to this church to know if she's one of the regulars or of this was her first visit. Maybe I'll never see her again and even if I do see her again, I'd have no idea how to approach her or what to say even if I did.

And I wonder if this is a kind of answer to my prayer. And I wonder if this means that my year-long respite from the angst of singleness is over. And I wonder if now, finally, in this new city, I'll find someone who finds me as well.

I don't know.

Who but God knows and what but time will tell?

239. snow good, ice bad

So the other day, I wrote about how I got to see my first snow (see blog 238). I've since learned that snow has an ugly, evil twin called ice.

Monday night was amazing. The snow fell and dusted the world in white. The next morning, my roommate wakes me up and says he can't make it out the driveway because his car keeps slipping on the embankment (our apartment is situated on the side of a hill). He suggests I call in to work to tell them I'm going to be late.

But I'm stubborn and I don't like to miss work and my Scion xB comes with traction control so I decide to take my own chances on the road.

I don't know if it was the traction control or how slow I was going but my car made it out the apartment complex just fine. I mean I could tell it was slippery, but I got over the hill. Once over the hill I thought I was safe but "over the hill" means I'm now heading downhill. I thought that would be no big deal until I hit the brakes to stop at the stop sign at the end of our street.

Now while Scion's traction control system got me over the hill, it was the antilock braking system that kept me from flying into the intersection. Granted, I didn't stop right at the stop sign (I skidded a couple feet beyond), but I did stop. I could hear a muffled chattering sound coming from beneath the car. It didn't take long to realize that was the ABS system pumping the brakes to keep the tires from locking up.

So in the course of two short minutes, I tested two systems on my Scion that I never thought I'd use, and they both performed flawlessly. Thankfully, this meant I didn't have to test out the airbag deployment system. I love my car.

Oh, I forgot to mention the walk up to my car. All that lovely snow turns otherwise innocent sidewalks into a Keystone Kops banana peel routine. I'm innocently walking to my car, thinking about what I'm going to do if I can't get out of the driveway like my roommate, when all of a sudden I feel my shoe lose all its grip and my body starts doing this awkward, angular panic dance complete with windmilling arms. Luckily my (Okinawan) ninja reflexes kicked in and I didn't fall.

238. first snow

Now when I title this blog, "first snow," I don't just mean the first snow of the season. I mean this is the first snow I've seen, EVER. There's not a lot of snowfall in Hawaii, especially on Oahu. I mean I think I heard a news report once about hail falling somewhere on Oahu, but that was probably punk kids throwing ice cubes over their apartment balcony.

Before today, the closest I came to seeing snow was on a high school trip to the mainland. We went on a trip to DC and Virginia. On the bus trip from DC to Arlington, we went over some mountains (at least I remember them as mountains) and on the top of one of the passes, we saw white stuff on the ground. And all the kids in the bus went nuts (myself included) because at least half of us were born and raised in Hawaii and like I said above, it doesn't snow there. The bus driver thought we were crazy because to him, it was just ice on the ground. Well, they stop the busses, we all get out and start throwing snow (ice on the ground) at each other.

Today I got to see the real thing.

And it was beautiful.

And it wasn't as cold as I though it would be. Never having experienced snow before, I always thought that if the weather was such that it was cold enough to snow, I would have to be bundled up like people on arctic expeditions, complete with Gore-Tex parka and seal skin mukluks. I went to church wearing a long-sleeve t-shirt, long-sleeve dress shirt, sweater, and a jacket, and although I wouldn't want to be caught outdoors for any long period of time, I was warm enough to get by.

Did I mention it was beautiful?

At first I watched it fall from my window. Then I went outside to get a closer look. It's kind of like watching rain fall, only in slow motion. I caught some of it in my hand. It's soft and melts on contact. When you look up at the sky, the snow looks like thousands (millions?) of tiny dark grey dots swirling about in the wind. Then I went back inside and my jacket looked like I had the worst case of dandruff ever.

No, I didn't make snow angels or yellow snow.

I don't know how often it snows up here. It was my understanding that it was a rare occurrence in Seattle so I was surprised to see it, especially since the coldest part of the year is still a couple months away. Another rare occurrence I'd like to see is the aurora borealis. I believe Seattle is far enough north to see the event, but I'm thinking I probably need to get away from all the light pollution to get a good view.

237. it's official, but is it home?

A few weeks ago I got my Washington driver's license. Today I got my Washington license plates attached to my Xb. I guess that makes me an official resident of the state of Washington.

It's not just the official documentation though, life here feels somewhat normal. What I mean is, I don't wake up in the morning thinking, "what the hell am I doing here?"

I'm sure that part of the reason life feels normal and somewhat routine has to do with the fact that I'm working now. My hours are from 9AM to 5:30PM, Monday through Friday. I really like the job. The people are cool and the work has me walking and climbing stairs all day (it's basically a warehouse job). I don't have a scale at my new home, but I know I've lost some weight by working there.

Which reminds me of something else I've been meaning to write about: the provision and providence of God.

A few months before moving to Seattle, I bought a pair of walking shoes. See, one of my philosophies when it comes to fitness is the maxim, "no pain, no pain." Although I did some running (and plan to take that up again once summer comes around), I did just as much walking (often on my lunch breaks). I didn't want to wear out my running shoes, so I purchased a pair of New Balance walking shoes. I also bought gel-type insoles for them.

Fast forward to the present and these shoes turn out to be perfectly suited to my warehouse job. Like I said, I'm on my feet all day but my feet never get sore. I thought I was buying walking shoes for exercise, I now see God's subtle hand, preparing me for the job I have now.

I can't call them to mind right now, but there have been lots of little things like that - little "coincidences" that help me to know that as big of a change as this is for me, God is in control.

As for things with my band, we found a rehearsal space and unless something really strange happens, we'll be in there starting Monday.

Back in Hawaii, most of the rehearsal studios rent out space by the hour. There are places up here that do that as well, but also common is the setup where you actually rent out a room by the month and that's what we're going with. Basically, it's like renting an apartment except that we're renting it for our musical equipment, not ourselves. So our rehearsal room is OUR rehearsal room for as long as we pay the rent.

The cool part of this arrangement is that as a band, we don't have to worry about finding an open slot. We can practice pretty much whenever we want to. Also, even if we're not rehearsing as a band, I can go in there and bang away on my drums (aka practicing).

It's hard to convey what a benefit that is to me. See, the other guys in the band, they can strum their guitars and practice all kinds of scales and noodle around whenever they want. Granted, they can't turn up their amps as loud as they'd like, but still, the physical mechanics of playing their instrument is the same whether they're playing unplugged or through a screaming stack of amps.

Drummers don't have that luxury. There's no volume knob on the drums and there's no substitute for playing at performance volume level (aka loud). The drums are a very physical instrument. If I don't get to practice on my drums at the same volume I play during a gig, I'm going to cramp up on stage - something that's happened more often than I'd like to admit. In fact, even when I'm able to practice somewhat regularly at full tilt, I still sometimes cramp up on stage because the rush of performing makes me play even harder.

But back to the idea I started with - that living in Seattle is getting to feel normal.

Another thing that's helping me feel that way is the fact that I don't need to consult my map or the GPS unit that I bought to get around.

Now I know I didn't blog about the GPS unit, so let me digress (again) to talk about this amazing little device. After a bit of research, I picked up the Garmin Street Pilot. Main selling point for me was the fact that Garmin is the only GPS company that was providing any kind of indication that they were pursuing support for the Mac OSX platform. All the other companies only support PCs (boo). Now Garmin doesn't support Macs yet, but at least they say they're working on a solution.

Anyway, the GPS unit is a fun little device. After you turn it on, it takes about a minute or so to link up the the GPS satellites. Once it knows where it is you tell it where you want to go and it does it's best to give turn by turn, street by street directions. It's not perfect (I occasionally program a destination I'm already familiar with to see how it will get me there and sometimes that results in a really bizarre route) but it certainly beats wrestling with a map while doing 60 on the I-5.

About a week into owning the device, I saw that I was becoming dependent on its directions. I wanted to learn how to get around Seattle without using a technological crutch, so I started to limit its use to getting me to places I'd never been before. Apart from that, I've been trying to find my own way and more often that not, I get to where I want to go.

And so, Seattle is beginning to feel familiar. I'm not quite ready to call it home. I mean, I know I live here, but it doesn't feel like home yet. I have no idea how long that will take. A part of me suspects that I'll be back in Hawaii before I get to that point, but who knows. I always tell people that I want to end up back in Hawaii, but I wonder if the only reason I say that is because Hawaii is familiar and it's where I was born and raised.

I don't know. I don't need to make this decision tonight. I'm just glad things are going well and that I'll soon be able to rehearse with my band again.

235. big week (part 2)

Two big news items for me this week. First, yesterday (Monday) my big shipment of Hawaii stuff got delivered. That means my drums, my recording equipment, my tools, and more of my clothes came in. I forgot how much stuff got shipped so opening all the boxes was a bit like Christmas. Everything was wrapped (packed by professionals back in HI - my mom hired a shipping company) in large sheets of heavy paper (they don't use packing blankets anymore) and so it really felt like unwrapping presents only these were items that I already owned. But it had been so long since I'd seen them that it was fun nevertheless.

Second news item, I started my new job today. Guess I passed their background check. It's a very active, physical job. Very different from the clerical work I've been doing for the past three years but that was the point of taking the job - to try something new and different. I work at a warehouse where they store boxes of files. Lots of them. Today, they gave me a list of boxes and files to pull and my job was to try and find them. The place is really well organized so it wasn't too hard to figure out what was where but still, there were lots of times when I must have looked like a man who didn't know which way was up.

There's tons of walking involved with this job - the warehouse is freaking huge (actually two big warehouses stuck together to make one huge one) and some of the boxes are maybe 40 or 50 pounds. Not a lot, but they're stacked three high and three deep and sometimes the box I need is in the back, on the bottom so I have to pull out eight boxes to get to the one. And then I have to put them back.

I'm hoping a few months of this job will make me a buff warehouse dude.

Oh, and as for the NaNoWriMo, I've already given up on it. My writing style is just not suited to the event and now I feel stupid because there were a few times, before the event, when I felt the pull of a story but held off in the hopes that it would still be there when the NaNo started. But the muse is a fickle maiden and try as I might, she would not sing again what I would not hear when first offered.

But I'm not bummed or frustrated like I was last year (see blog 117 for example - caution, potty mouth). I know it goes against the whole point of the event, but I didn't put a lot of pressure on myself to maintain my word count. The way I see it, writing is something I enjoy and to twist myself into knots just to "win" an event that isn't a competition is actually counter-productive.

Now I know I've written before that I want to try and get published (see blog 229), and I know most professional writers have a strict work ethic, but...but...but it's not like "winning" the NaNo has any prize money attached to it and I'd like to think that if I was writing for a paycheck (or after receiving an advance) that I would place nose to grindstone to spin golden threads of prose.

Speaking of a writer's work ethic, this past Sunday I got to hear Aimee Bender read one of her unpublished stories at a place called Hugo House (see what an amazing city Seattle is?). In one of the write-ups on the event, someone mentioned that she attributes her success to her discipline: "I write in the morning, two hours, that's the law." I really need to pick up her books because her slightly bent view of the world is something that I see in my own work (albeit, nowhere near her level).

One last bit about Aimee Bender and Hugo House. She teaches there and on the first Monday of every month, they hold a gathering for people looking to join up with writers groups. Part of what excited me about Seattle was the writing community that they have here and a writer's group is just what I was hoping to find. I know this past Monday was the first Monday of November but like I wrote above, all my stuff arrived from Hawaii and I was busy trying to find a place to put all the stuff. I'll try to make it to December's meeting.

Oh, and I might have found the church that I want to attend here in Seattle. More on that soon, but for now you can see their website at www.seattlequest.org.

235. the c-c-c-cold and the layered look

So this morning I'm walking to my car and I see that the windows are fogged up. I figure it's no big deal, I mean I've seen foggy windows before. I get into my car, start her up and turn on the windshield wipers to clear it up but after the blades sweep across the window, the "fog" is still there. That's when I notice the tiny crystalline webs in the corners of the window.

And then it hits me.

It's not fog.

My windows are frosted over.

As if the cold weekend (lows in the 30's, highs in the mid 40's!) wasn't enough of a hint, this certainly drove home the point that I wasn't in Hawaii anymore.

I guess I need to buy an ice scraper. Also, my mom was telling me to buy tire chains. I thought she was nuts but now I'm wondering if maybe I should keep them in the car just in case.

Frosted windows aren't the only problem though.
To state the obvious, Hawaii is warm. Temperatures range from the low 60's to the mid 90's and it's always humid. Just about the only people I can think of who own any sizable collection of warm clothes are warehouse people who work in chill boxes or the astronomers who work up on Mauna Kea. I'm neither so until a few weeks before I moved to Seattle, my entire cold weather wardrobe included a grand total of two jackets, no sweaters, no long-sleeve shirts, and only a few long-sleeve dress shirts (that I rarely wore).

In contrast, the yearly average high in Seattle is freaking 62 degrees (source, Wikipedia). In the six months between October and April, the average high is 52 degrees and the average low is 40 degrees. Clearly, a new wardrobe is in order.

But.

But I don't know how to put it together. Shortly after moving here, I noticed there's a different way to dress. For lack of a better term, I'll call it the layered look.

It's frustrating because back in Hawaii, I felt like I had finally found a "look" I was comfortable with. When shopping for clothes, I had a pretty good grasp on what looked good on me and what I liked. This wasn’t something that developed overnight. It took YEARS of frustrating trial and error.

And now I feel like I have to start the process all over again because I don't get the short-sleeve t-shirt over long-sleeve t-shirt look or the sweater over dress shirt look or the vest over shirt look. And don't get me started on accessories like scarves and beanies.

I suppose a Seattle girlfriend (or just a female friend) would really help here. See, I've come to learn that a fresh pair of eyes (especially female ones) can lead you try on things that you wouldn't try if you were shopping by yourself and sometimes it's precisely these unexpected things that end up looking the best on you thereby helping you find or develop your own personal style.

Now I suppose I could just do that by myself, but the layered look has far too many options. In Hawaii all I had to worry about was matching the shirt to the pants but the layered look is just that - layered. All the options are kind of freaking me out.

If I had to describe the look I'm going for, I'd say it's smart but not preppy, conservative but not boring, hip but not too trendy. I want to have basic pieces that I can mix around to create different looks but I don't even know what the basic elements are. I mean do I get bold colored shirts and more muted sweaters or is it the other way around? If I'm buying a sweater to wear over shirts does that mean I should buy a size larger than I would if I were just wearing the sweater by itself? Is it okay to wear a sweater by itself or does it depend on the kind of sweater I'm wearing and if so then which are the ones I wear over other things and which are the ones I can wear on their own? Which styles of sweater are considered more formal and which are more casual?

Ugh!

Normally I enjoy shopping for clothes but trying to learn a whole new look is far too stressful.

Since I have to go it alone, my plan of attack is to go somewhere relatively inexpensive like the Gap or Old Navy and buy some solid colored, long-sleeved t-shirts and maybe some basic sweaters. I'll take them home and try mixing and matching between what I bought and what I already have in my wardrobe.

Sounds like a good plan, but again, the problem is that I won't be a very good judge because I'm trying on a look that's unfamiliar to me so I don't have any reference points.

Anybody have a female friend in Seattle I can borrow - one with good style sense?

234. big week

This has been a pretty monumental week for me. I finally got my car on Monday (see here) - a Scion Xb which I absolutely LOVE. It's tiny on the outside but freaking HUGE on the inside. I know lots of people hate the boxy look, but I like it. It's practical and efficient and quirky. So far, only two things I don't like about it. One, it has no power and two, it only has one interior light which means if I have to look at my map at night (something that happens a lot since I've only been here for about three weeks), I have to reach up behind me and turn on the light in the middle of the ceiling.

To remedy this second bit, I'm going to keep my eye out for some kind of clip-on, suction cup light that I can attach to my windshield.

Another (unexpected) benefit about having a car is that I have access to NPR. I've written before that I love not having a TV, but it's hard to keep up on the news without it. I mean I suppose I could subscribe to the local paper, but it's so much easier to get caught up on the main events of the day by tuning in to those thirty minute updates on CNN or FOX News. NPR is a nice replacement. I always feel smarter after tuning in.

I have a job (well, technically I have to pass their background check first, but I can't think of any red flags that would cause any problems). I'm going to be working for a warehouse that houses records. As I understand it, my basic job will be to either place boxes full of files on their designated shelf or to find a specific box on some other designated shelf and retrieve it. Now I'm sure there's more to the job than that, but those are the basic duties that were outlined to me during the interview.

Now to some, that job probably sounds like grunt work, but to me it sounds like the perfect breeding ground for unleashing latent creativity. Here's why.

Most of you know I used to do temp work (before I got hired by the temp company), and on one of these temp jobs, I was working for a law firm. On my first day on the job they gave me a sheet full of tiny stickers. On each of these stickers was a number like, "000001" and "000002" and "000003" and so on. They gave me a whole stack of these sheets and each of them had more sequential numbers on them. Next, they showed me a room full of banker boxes - those cardboard ones with a lid and two holes on the front and back that act as handles. Inside each of these boxes were a bunch of huge three-ring binders and within each of these binders was reams and reams of legal paperwork.

Can you guess what my job entailed?

My job was to open up these boxes, take out a folder and affix one numerical sticker on each of the sheets I found inside. One by one, folder by folder, box by box.

I can't remember exactly how many labels I ended up using, but I know I was well into the tens of thousands before I was done.

For that job, I basically went in to work, shut down most of my brain and started sticking stickers. Once lunch time came around, I powered up my brain again and went to eat. And that's where the magic happened. I got some of my most creative writing done during those lunch breaks because after all that repetitive work, my noodle was just itching to stretch itself out - to break free from the numbing, numbering repetition.

I know my new job won't be as brain dead as the sticker job at the law office, but I know it won't be as high-stress as my last job. I remember coming home from working at the temp company and my brain would feel like tofu. The last thing it wanted to do was work some more even if it was something fun and creative like a new story or a blog.

My hope is that once I get over the initial learning curve, the job will be somewhat repetitive such that my brain will be fresh enough to do more heavy lifting after work (like the NaNoWriMo).

Oh, and I also bought a desk, a chair, and a lamp (all from IKEA). I haven't picked up a bed yet, but that's probably the next big purchase. For me, a table was far more important than a bed because while the floor has been serving me just fine for sleeping, it was no good for writing. And I hope to be doing a lot of it (1,700 words per day to stay on track for the NaNo) in the next few weeks.

Prior to this, I had been doing a lot of my writing on our dining room table which worked well enough but for me, writing is a solitary affair. My roommates left me alone when writing but still, it felt strange to be pecking away on my laptop with other people in the same room.

See, I write in fits and starts. I laugh out loud when the juices are flowing and words are falling from the sky. I look at the ceiling, the wall, out the window. I wave my fingers over the keyboard. I spin circles with my hands in midair. I furrow my brow and put my hand in front of my mouth. I've developed a whole range of unconscious, animated behaviors to coax and conjure the muse. These devices are best practiced away from watchful eyes if only to assure people I'm not suffering from schizophrenia.

And now I have a desk, and this is the first blog written on it.

Last miscellaneous bits.

I'm attending a Christian arts conference this weekend. I found out about it through Mars Hill church, where I've been going for the last few Sundays.

I'll be seeing Shawn Colvin in concert on Monday.

Miles, the guitar player for my band will be arriving in Seattle on Saturday morning. Let the Harrison global musical domination project commence!

Last night I had the spiciest rahmen EVER. My roommates brought it home from this Korean grocery store called H-Mart (I guess because the name, K-Mart, was already taken). They said the store gave them a whole box-full of the stuff because their total bill passed a certain price point. I suspect they're giving the stuff away because it's burrowing holes through peoples' stomaches. After finishing my bowl, I had to eat two slices of bread to put the fire out in my mouth. (In case you didn't know, water doesn't work to cool a spiced out mouth because the chemical that makes spicy food hot, capsaicin, doesn't blend with water. Bread works as does beer and milk, but I wouldn't drink them together. See what you can learn by spending inordinate amounts of time on the internet?)

233. grocery and identity

My first trip to the grocery store to stock up on food stuffs was an interesting experience. Living at home with my parents for the past 34 years, I never really had to think about what I wanted to have in the pantry to eat - I just ate whatever was on hand whether it was something I wanted to eat or not. So walking through the grocery store trying to figure out what it was that I wanted to get was...was...

I'm not sure what the word is for how I was feeling. An example from a movie then. In the Julia Roberts, Richard Gere film, Runaway Bride, there's a scene where Julia's character is sitting in front of a table full of plates. Each plate has eggs on it but they all are prepared differently. One has eggs benedict, one has over easy, one has scrambled, etc.

Now I haven't seen the entire movie, but I do remember this scene from watching parts of it on cable, and the idea is that she's not really sure who she is. She doesn't even know how she likes her eggs because she's always had them the way her boyfriends/fiances had them. After her last wedding goes down in flames (again), we come to this scene with the plates and the eggs. In the scene, she's trying a bite from each plate to figure out which preparation she likes absent the opinion of any significant other.

Um...I just realized that this example has Oedipal overtones but all I mean to say is that my aimless walk through the grocery store was very much like Roberts at the table of eggs, only I wasn't just choosing between egg dishes - I had the whole store to choose from.

I think the only thing I went home with was a box of microwavable popcorn and a loaf of bread.

"Just bread?"

Well, in retrospect that was kind of a random choice but I thought (assumed) we had butter at home and that I could at least make toast. Turns out we didn't have anything to put on or between slices of bread so on my next trip out, I made sure to buy butter and cheese because I am the grilled cheese guru...which is another reason why shopping for groceries was an odd experience.

"Because you're the grilled cheese guru?"

No, because I don't cook.

"At all?"

Well, nothing fancy. I mean I can usually follow a recipe (yeah right) if one is put in front of me (just don't ask me to dice any onions or anything that requires finesse with a knife) but my cooking skills are usually limited to grilling spam or boiling up some rahmen (with egg), so you can see how a trip to the grocery store wouldn't exactly be an inspiring experience for me.

"That's pretty pathetic, dude."

There is one notable exception to my culinary ignorance. I can make cheesecake, and not just any cheesecake. I make a (from what I've been told) very good banana cheesecake.

"Sounds like there's a story behind this."

Well, yeah. But it's not a very good story.

"Aw, come on, don't be modest. Spill."

Okay, so there was this girl I liked and I found out she liked cheesecake and so I found a recipe and made her some.

"And...?"

And that's the end of the story.

"What about the girl?"

Well, let me put it this way. If she had liked me half as much as she liked the cheesecake things might have turned out better between us.

So ANYWAY, back to the reason I brought up the whole grocery shopping experience in the first place. I think that was the first in a long list of experiences that will help me figure out who I am. I mean, I really do feel like I have the opportunity to recreate myself up here...but I think "recreate" is the wrong word. It might be more accurate to say that I have the opportunity to discover who I am, but that's not it either. Maybe the best way to put it is that I can become the person I'm supposed to be.

"Yeah, and while you're at it, learn how to cook."

Hey, one thing at a time.

232. likes and dislikes

Things I like and don't like about life in Seattle (in no particular order).

Like my roommates. Jenn's cooking is excellent, Martin buys beer, and we all get along swimmingly.

I like all the culture and art and music here. Last week I attended a book reading and last night I bought tickets to see Shawn Colvin at the Moore Theatre. Lots to see and hear around here.

I don't like not having my drum set. I finally went out and bought some drum sticks and a practice pad so I can try and keep my chops up, but nothing compares to the sheer physical joy of banging away on actual drums and cymbals.

I LOVE not having a television. I've gotten so much reading done since I've been here (and it should also be a big help next month while I work on my NaNo - see blog 231).

One thing I don't like about not having a TV is not knowing what's happening on Project Runway...can anybody fill me in? I'm so bummed I missed the reunion episode and I can't believe I'm going to miss the season finale! (And for the record, I want Laura to win but I think Michael will take it.)

I don't love not having a car. Even though I like the Seattle bus system, it's still a pain to be tethered to its routes.

I actually like the weather. From what I hear, it's been unusually sunny these past couple weeks. This past weekend was the first time I actually saw rain.

I don't mind the cold. It's been swinging from the 40s to the 60s and I see myself buying some new jackets soon, but if I had to choose between being too cold or too hot, I prefer too cold.

I don't like not knowing where everything is. I always feel lost. I had a job interview today and (stupid me) I only checked on the busses I needed to take to get there. I forgot to plan for the ride back. I suppose I could have just taken the same busses going back the other way, but one of them was an express route and they don't come as often. So I started walking in the general direction that I guessed home was but I soon had to admit that I had no idea where I was. Luckily I walked right by a public library where I was able to get on-line and get the bus route back home.

I love that Seattle is a bicycle-friendly town. Don't tell my parents, but if I get the job I just interviewed for today (the job I really want), I'm going to buy a bike because the job is only three or four miles away. I already know which bike I want to get. It's going to be so cool to be on the road again...I forgot how much I loved riding bikes until I rode down to the store with Blake one afternoon before house church. Even though the bikes were just cruisers (and one of them had a badly warped tire), I had a blast.

Overall, I'm having a ball. No regrets whatsoever...so far.

231. oops, I'm going to do it again

So November is coming around and I'm having mad thoughts of doing the National Novel Writing Month again. If you were around reading my blog last November, you might remember that my first crack at the title was about as much fun as riding the Tour de France with hemorrhoids (see blog 117 for an example...caution, potty mouth).

I suppose that's part of the genius of the event. It happens once-per-year, just enough time so that you forget how much you hated participating the year before.

I'm hoping this year will be more of a success for a bunch of reasons. One, I'm in the heart of a very creative city. There's a lot of amazing art and lots of culture to experience and I'm hoping that will serve as a rich source of inspiration. Two, I've read that Seattle has a lot of writers in residence (maybe because of all the rain?) and I'm hoping the NaNoWriMo will be a way for me to tap into this community. A quick visit to their bulletin board told me that there are a couple meeting/writing places already set up for the event in the Seattle area. One near West Seattle, where I live. Three, I'm hoping this will be a way for me to get even more serious about my writing and to further my dreams of publication (see blog 229).

Four, I'm going into the event knowing I'm going to be breaking one of the "rules." Sort of.

From the FAQs section of the NaNoWriMo website:

How do you define "novel?" Does fan fiction count? What if I want to write interconnected short stories rather than a novel? What if my story is largely autobiographical, or is based on a real person? Can I still write it in November?
We define a novel as "a lengthy work of fiction." Beyond that, we let you decide whether what you're writing falls under the heading of "novel." In short: If you believe you're writing a novel, we believe you're writing a novel too.

Well, I know I won't be writing a novel and I won't even pretend to call it that. At best it will be a collection of short stories that might be interconnected, but just as likely will not be. What I mean is, I'm going into this year's NaNo knowing that I'm not writing a novel. I'm writing a collection of short stories.

Part of what killed me last year was the ridiculous notion that I had to be writing a NOVEL to participate. I spent way too much time trying to construct these large narrative arcs when that's just not how I write. I mean, the very word, "novel," scares the crap out of me. Writing something that big sounds too much like work. Looking back now, I see that I was being far too anal retentive about the rules. I mean for crying out loud, it's a free event and if I "won," all they'd give me is a web icon and some kind of certificate.

So this year, I'm not going to even pretend that I'm writing a novel. I am writing a collection of short stories and there's nothing anybody at NaNoWriMo can do about it. I mean even if they "disqualify" me for not writing an actual novel (which they won't do because they only verify word count - they don't actually read the submissions), I'll still be left with a mountain of raw story material that I can sift through later for refining.

Now a bit of bad news for my readers. I'm not planning on posting the stories as I write them. Since I'm hoping to end up with material I can send out to publishers (maybe journals or magazines), I want to keep it out of the public eye. Call it hubris, call it paranoia, call it selfish, call it a greedy capitalist mindset, call it whatever you want but I see it as the first tentative step towards a more professional writer's ethic.

Sorry.

Well, wish me luck and pray that I get these stories published so you can read them!

PS. For now, I'm still leaving up the stories I have posted at LoneTomato Sauce, but I might be axing that site as well. Read them while you can.

230. ...like a church for books

OMG, today I visited the most breathtaking library I have ever seen. Now ordinarily the words, "breathtaking" and "library" don't go together, but the Seattle Library's Central Library is no ordinary library. First of all, the building itself is an architectural wonder (see images here). It seems far to beautiful for something as utilitarian as a library, and maybe that's the point.

Airports terminals are known as places where the architecture makes a grand, sweeping statement about the aesthetics of a place (see Kansai International, for example), because for visitors, it's the first thing they see upon arrival. However, I think an argument could be made for the idea that a city's main library can (and should) also make a statement.

Anyway, back to the Seattle Central Library. This thing must be experienced to be understood. It's not just a building with books, it's a carefully thought through, purposefully designed space where form closely follows function.

For example, the dewey decimal system numbers that correspond to the books on the shelves are printed in large block text on the floor tiles adjacent to the shelves themselves (see here). These numbers ramp up (literally...I'll get to that in a second) sequentially, so there's no hunting around trying to find the 700s or the 200s. The floors are linked by a ramp that winds its way around the library so you're never at a loss as to how to find the book you're looking for. This is quite unlike most libraries I've been to where at the end of one shelf you find books in the 300s but the 400s are in another wing entirely. Genius.

There are lots of tables and very comfortable chairs. There's also free wi-fi, a feature that no library should be without. Also, the tables have power strips conveniently located on the table top - no more searching for outlets on the floor.

I know it'll sound like I'm resorting to hyperbole here, but it really does feel like sacred space. Information is one of God's great gifts to us and this library certainly highlights that fact (intentionally or not).

Oh, and behind the scenes is an amazing automated system of conveyer belts that mechanically sorts books through the use of RFID tags (basically tiny transmitters). There's a little kiosk near the desk where you sign up for a library card that tells you all about it. They're justifiably proud of their system because it's kick-ass, geek-out technology.

One last bit about the library, it's not a place for acrophobia (fear of heights) sufferers. The exterior walls are made of glass (the steel, load bearing beams are on the interior) and because the library has been designed with lots of open space, it's just about impossible to not be aware of how high up you are. I don't think I'm afraid of heights (never had that problem before) but there were parts of the library that left me feeling a bit woozy.

All that to say, if you visit Seattle, make it a point to check out the library. Now to most, that probably sounds as stupid as saying, be sure to visit the dentist, but this is not just a library. It's an experience. Even if you don't like to read, it's fascinating to walk through an architectural space quite unlike any other.

229. these dreams

Call it the unbridled optimism of one who finds himself in a new land (I imagine the gold rush settlers felt the same), but as I look to begin my job search in earnest next week, I feel like I'm embarking on an adventure where the outcome is as limitless as it is unknown. A part of me sees this as an opportunity to reinvent myself, to take on the grand challenges that God has created me to tackle, to become who I was always meant to be.

I just wish I knew what that looked like.

"What would you want it to look like?"

Well first of all, I'd like my band to be a success and to me that means, at the very least, the ability to support ourselves through playing music alone. Basically, that means making enough through the band that I don't need to have a "regular" job to pay the bills. At the extreme end of the dream is global musical domination where we get to tour the world playing for sold out audiences.

This dream, in its most sublime expression, would include an episode where I go out on a date with Paris Hilton. On this date, I would point out how sad and shallow her public persona is. She is so taken by this critique that she renounces her Hilton inheritance, moves to Calcutta and takes up where Mother Theresa left off.

"Uh huh. Anything else?"

Yeah, I'd also like to be a bestselling short story writer.

I've actually taken my first baby steps in this direction (see blog 221), and to add to this, I just purchased a very simple book about how to break into the publishing industry. It's just a primer on the very basics (like those ____ for Dummies books) but since I have absolutely no knowledge of the industry whatsoever, I'm finding it fascinating. Once I make it through this book, I plan on picking up the 2007 Novel and Short Story Writer's Market (if it's out).

"So you picked up a book on publishing. Big deal."

Yeah, maybe, but there's more to it than that. See, I'm not big on confidence. I was talking with an artist friend of mine recently and he talked about how on the surface he's full of bravado and daring when it comes to his work but deep down inside, there's a part of him that wonders if he has what it takes to follow through.

I told him I was the complete opposite of that.

On the surface, I think my writing is only worth reading for free on blogs like this one (see blog 206). Why would anyone pay to read my prosaic rants or my meandering short stories? But buried deep beneath this self-effacement is a tiny brain cell that thinks I actually have something to say - that the powerful play goes on, and I will contribute a verse (apologies to Walt Whitman).

Normally, buying even a simple book on publishing would be impossible for me because the surface insecurity would tell me it was futile. But today, that tiny brain cell asserted itself and I brought that book home with me.

Funny thing about the brain. It's always making new connections. Computer engineers working in the field of artificial intelligence might say that the neural networks in our brains are massively parallel - that we process things simultaneously rather than sequentially. Our brain can operate this way because of the new connections that are created (and which multiply geometrically) when we learn something new.

Now that my little brain cell of literary belief is firing away, who knows where that will take me.

Another case in point. Today I made my final shopping decisions at IKEA. Turns out I'm going to be spending almost twice as much on my desk and my chair (where I plan to do most of my writing) as I will on my bed frame and mattress. This was a deliberate move on my part - a way to tell myself that I'm serious about giving this writing thing a go.

There are some people out there who compensate for their insecurities by talking themselves up, by overselling themselves. These are the kinds of people who end up as incompetent upper management types. In contrast, I acquiesce to my insecurities by not putting myself out there.

But not any more.

I'm not saying that I'm going to turn into Jack Nicholas' character in the (excellent) movie "As Good As It Gets," but I am dipping my little toe into the pool of possibilities. And the water seems nice and warm.

"Yeah, and teeming with sharks."

Well then I'll be sure to bring along some tartar sauce.

228. first impressions of Seattle

So I'm finally settled in my new place in Seattle. It's a cool little place. My room is a bit smaller than what I'm used to but with some creative choices from IKEA, I'll make it work.

It's strange waking up here. Apart from the fact that I'm still sleeping on the floor (haven't made my final IKEA decisions yet), the thought that the place is HOME for me hasn't quite sunk in yet. Of course I've only slept there one night so far, so I suppose it's no surprise that things still feel new and unfamiliar, but I've been in the mainland for a week now and the idea that I'm not going to be going back to Hawaii (for at least a couple years) hasn't sunk in yet.

It's just too soon to tell, but overall I'm still very much in excited-to-be-here mode.

I've also unofficially taken this first week to not worry about finding work. I'm going to try and soak up what I can of the city without a car. I actually have enough in the bank to buy the car outright, but because I opened up the account with such a large check (from money I cashed out from utilities stock that my parents were putting away for me), they're not going to clear it for a couple weeks.

First impressions of living here:

1. It's BIG.

I don't mean that the city is big, I mean just being on the mainland itself makes me feel like I'm in a place where the roads never end. It's a trip (no pun) to see freeway signs that point the way to cities a whole state (or country) away, like Portland or Vancouver B.C. And to know that one could hit the road and end up in New York or Miami or even (conceptually) the southern tip of South America is pretty amazing.

I can't wait to get my car so I can go exploring. Not that I'm planning a trip to Peru, but I would like to strike out and see more of the state (time and financing providing).

2. Moving out on one's own is expensive.

Big lesson learned first day shopping for necessities: blankets are freaking expensive! And what the hell is the difference between a comforter and a blanket? How can you tell which blankets will keep you warm and which will leave your feet shivering?

It's amazing to see how much small stuff you need to make life work and how quickly all the minutia adds up. I mean I expected to pay a bunch for furniture but I didn't expect to see how quickly little things like waste baskets, towels, laundry bin, shower curtain, etc. can put a dent in your budget.

And speaking of shower curtains, did you know that shower curtains DO NOT come with the little hooks you need to hang them up? What's up with that? I got home from our first big supply shopping trip and was looking forward to a warm shower when I made this discovery. DOH! (Oh and there's a matte side and a smooth side to the curtain...does it matter which side faces in towards the shower?)

3. The divide between the powerful, the hip (the powerfully hip?) and everyone else seems a lot wider here.

In Hawaii, maybe it's because of the laid back attitude when it comes to wardrobe and attitude, it's sometimes difficult to tell the power players from the wannabes. 'Round Seattle, people exude raw power and confidence like it's perfume or cologne. I mean it's not done in an obvious way, but there's just something about the way some people carry themselves here - you just know they're in command of some heavy responsibilities and that they're compensated handsomely for it.

Likewise, the "in" crowd is unmistakable. They're down and they know it. You can just tell by the way they use their walk (and that paint can they're carrying) they're planning an incredibly hip night in impossibly hip (and secret) places with flawlessly hip people. And you're not invited.

These two factors can be a bit intimidating until I remember that I'm not here to start a career. I'm here in pursuit of a dream (global musical domination) so the powerful and the hip do not scare me. They're somewhat irrelevant because they're a means to an end. Not that I'm discounting their need for love and for Jesus, but keeping that in mind helps me to not be afraid of this new place.

4. I love IKEA.

I'm not saying IKEA is the end all and be all of furniture (I hear their stuff doesn't last), but for a person on a tight budget, their stuff looks a helluva lot nicer than 2 x 10s and cinder blocks.

One item that I'm particularly excited about is a TROMSO twin loft bed set with accessory table and shelf unit. Basically it's a bunk bed, but instead of a bottom bed, there's a desk underneath. Unfortunately, I guess the bed was designed for a room with higher ceilings than what I'm living in because the estimated space between the top of the mattress and the ceiling is a mere 20". Getting in to sleep isn't going to be fun but if submariners can do it. . .

"But you're not a submariner."

Hey, worst case scenario, I can get a hacksaw and cut two or three inches off the legs. In any case, I think the benefits far outweigh the costs. I don't think there's any other way to fit a bed and a desk in the room and both are necessities for me so if I need to mimic a Chinese contortionist to get into bed, so be it.

"But you're neither Chinese nor a contortionist."

Ahem.

Yeah, so the other thing that surprised me about the store is that basically everything is on sale. You know how in most furniture stores there's art on the walls and little sculpture things on the tables to give the display a homey feel? Well at IKEA, all the window dressing is for sale. Just about every item in the room displays has a little price tag attached to it - everything from the rug to the lighting to the bookends to the little cup holding pens and pencils (which are probably also on sale).

Lastly, there's an IKEA cafeteria-style restaurant inside the store and the food there is really good. I had the herb crusted salmon while Marty and Jen shared a plate of Swedish meatballs. We sampled each other's dishes and rave reviews abounded.

5. Marty and Jennifer are hella-cool roomates.

Mega kudos to them for finding the place. It's in West Seattle which, from what I've seen of it, is a relatively nice neighborhood. There are some areas that look a bit shady (and I'm not referring to the tree cover), but overall I feel safe walking or jogging around the area. The place itself is a lot nicer that I thought. It's a new development and we're the first ones to reside in the unit so everything is brand new.

Jen is a great cook and Marty is a great driver (until I get my own car). This is my first time living with roommates but so far it's been smooth sailing.

"You're not just saying this because they read your blog?"

Nope, I really mean it.

"They're not going to lower your rent you know."

I still mean it.

227. the culture of Christianity

(this is a pretty long post so you might want to grab a cup of coffee and a muffin before starting)

My last week at house church I was asked to share what I'd learned throughout my time there. And I could think of no better idea to sum up the newfound understanding of Christianity that I've gained than to talk about the kingdom of God.

And so, from my notes:


The Kingdom of God

Throughout the Gospels, Jesus can be found referencing something called the kingdom of God (also called the kingdom of heaven in Matthew). Up until we discussed the idea of this kingdom in house church a few months ago, I had just assumed that Jesus was referring to what life would be like after we died. But through the discussions we had and through some books I've been reading, my understanding of Christianity and what Christ came to earth to do have changed completely.

First of all, the kingdom is not just about heaven after we die, it's about life here and now. The easiest way to show this is to look at The Lord's Prayer in Matthew 6:9-13. The telling line is in verse 10 where Jesus prays, "your Kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven."

That's present tense. That verse is talking about the Kingdom of God being here on this earth now, the way it already is in heaven.

So what is this kingdom of God?

Unfortunately (like the Matrix), it's not so easy to define. When describing the kingdom, Jesus says it's like yeast, like seeds, like a pearl, like a party, etc. In fact, in Luke 17:20-21, Jesus says, "The kingdom of God is not something that can be observed, nor will people say, 'Here it is,' or 'There it is,' because the kingdom of God is in your midst." He deliberately used metaphors and stories because the complete idea of what the kingdom of God is has to be bigger than our understanding, our ability to define it, because once you have a definition, people start imposing it on other people. They use it as a measuring stick - are you in or are you out?

Think about the idea of being cool in high school. You couldn't really define what it meant to be cool, but it was immediately apparent who the cool kids were. If you tried to make a list of what it meant to be cool, that list instantly became uncool. Because the cool kids were always doing cool stuff before everybody else did them. Once everybody else was doing it, it wasn't cool anymore and the cool kids were already doing the next cool thing.

Jesus never really defines what the kingdom of God is because it's kind of like being cool - you can't define it, you just have to live it.

It also helps to think about the phrase itself, "the kingdom of God." It can be difficult for us to understand the idea of kingdom in America because we live in a democracy, but think of movies about King Arthur or a movie like Braveheart. To live in a kingdom meant you lived under the rule of a king. Those living in a given kingdom were subject to the king's laws and commands.

Now about these laws. I'm going to sidetrack for a moment to discuss the idea of laws, as it relates to the kingdom of God, because there are Christians out there who are missing the point.

A bad king used laws to oppress and control his people. A good king used laws to preserve order and to maintain the culture of the kingdom - their way of life, their traditions and customs. A bad king taxed his people to enrich himself - building bigger castles and stronger walls. A good king reinvested the wealth of the kingdom by supporting artists and philosophers thereby preserving and developing its culture. A bad king spread his kingdom through force, trickery and coercion. A good king shared his art and ideas with those around him, thereby spreading his influence through willing partnership.

What I'm trying to get at is the idea that some Christians look at spreading the message of Christ the way a bad king looks at his subjects. They seek to impose Christian values and morals by any means necessary. But (to paraphrase the cliche) what did Jesus do? He came into the world at a time when his followers were looking for political deliverance from the oppressive Roman empire. Indeed, among his own disciples was listed Simon the Zeallot. The Zealots were a loose band of Jews who sought to overthrow the Romans by acts of open aggression.

Jesus had a ready-made army in his followers and if he had wanted to, he probably could have led a huge campaign. He also had angels in his arsenal. At the moment he was handed over to be crucified, one of his followers cut off the ear of the high priest. Jesus reprimanded him saying, "put your sword back in its place, for all who draw the sword will die by the sword. Do you think I cannot call on my Father, and he will at once put at my disposal more than twelve legions of angels? . . . Am I leading a rebellion. . .?" (Matthew 26:52-55)

The kingdom of God is not about power (the first will be last, the greatest will be servants - Luke 13:29-30, Matthew 23:11-12), nor is it spread through force. It grows through love.

In Jesus' day, many religious leaders had forgotten that loving God and loving others was more important than merely obeying commands. They wore their righteousness the way celebrities today wear haute couture fashions - as a way to distance themselves from the public - so they had a vested interest in discrediting Jesus because he saw their acts of righteousness for what they were - mere window dressing (Matthew 23:13-28).

To illustrate, there's a story in Mark 12:28-34 where there's a debate happening between Jesus and some of the various Jewish religious leaders of the day. A certain teacher of the law sees the debate happening but he enters the debate with a different attitude. He sees that Jesus is giving good answers and so he asks a question, not to challenge Jesus, but I imagine he asks, "Of all the commandments, which is the most important?" because it was a question that he himself was wrestling with.

"The most important one," Jesus answered, "is this: 'Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your mind and with all your soul and with all your strength.' The second is this: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no commandment greater than these."

It's particularly important to note that in the teacher's response to Jesus, he includes the bit about loving God and neighbor as being "more important than all burnt offerings and sacrifices." I think it's because of this addition that Jesus "saw that he had answered wisely" and told him that he was "not far from the kingdom of God." Loving God and people is more important than the laws about offerings and sacrifices because those laws were things the Jewish people were supposed to do to SHOW their love for God.

Think about the kingdom metaphor again. A good king used the laws of a kingdom not just to preserve order, but also to preserve and perpetuate its culture. Each kingdom had its own ways of living life. They had different styles of art, a different language, different customs. Living in the kingdom of God means living out the culture of heaven here on earth - behaving now, the way we will after we've made it in to heaven.

So what does this life look like? How does a citizen of the kingdom behave? Now I have to be careful here because I can't just lay out a list of do this, don't do thats. That's the mistake the religious leaders of Jesus' day made - they made it about lists. It's more about principles than it is about laws. And that can be frustrating for people who like strict boundaries, but the upside is that it makes for a generous, inclusive belief system.

That said, a good starting point on learning about the culture of the kingdom would be to read through the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5:1 - 7:27). This was Jesus' debut sermon and in it, he lays out a revolutionary new vision on how to live. Throughout the sermon, you can see that he's trying to get at the heart of the law and in the end, it has to do with sincerity when performing religious acts (as opposed to aping meaningless, rote activities) as well as being excellent to one another.

And that's a kind of Christianity that I want to be a part of.

226. on saying goodbye

So I'm here at Willie's house in Vegas. I'll be here until Monday night when I fly out to Seattle where I'll stay for...who but God knows and what but time will tell?

I'll tell yah, the hardest bit wasn't actually the day of the flight out of Hawaii, it was the day before. I come from a pretty typical 2nd generation Asian family, so emotions aren't shared freely. That said, it was quite a heavy blow to see my mother tearing up. Up until that point, the move was just the start of an exciting adventure for me, but those tears reminded me that there were consequences for those I was leaving behind. It's like Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote, "They who go feel not the pain of parting; it is they who stay behind that suffer."

But the hard part is over now, what's done is done. I'd like to think that my parents wish the best for me, but there were an awful lot of hints about coming back to Hawaii, as in, "don't buy too much furniture just in case things don't work out up there and you have to come back," or "make sure you keep the number of the moving company just in case you have to come back." At the time I took those comments as irritating attempts to undermine my confidence but now I see that it was their way of both subtly asking me if I was sure I wanted to go and telling me that I had a place to return to if things didn't work out. At least that's how I want to think about it.

It sucks that "goodbyes" are an inevitable part of life, but they are. The brutal truth of the matter is, even if people never move apart, death will have his say in the matter sooner or later. And a part of me finds this situation stupid beyond reason. What's the point of saying "hello" if that means there's going to be a "goodbye" at some other point?

"Geeze, Randall, could you be any more cynical?"

Oops, sorry about that.

I suppose one could see the fact of "goodbye" as a reminder to make the most of what time we do have together - to not take it for granted. I mean, for most of my 34 years at home with my parents, it was business as usual. But I think about the next time I'll see them - that will certainly be a more meaningful encounter. But that will make saying "goodbye" again even harder.

"There you go again..."

What can you do. That's life.

"You're not going to end this entry on this bum tip are you?"

No.

Look, I'm sorry that I had to say goodbye and hurt my parents, but God has bigger plans for me. Even though I didn't want to put my folks through it, as far as I was concerned I felt I had no other choice. I had to make this move. And in a way, it serves as fuel to succeed. I want to make something great of myself so they will see that their pain was not in vain. I mean how great would it be to return home with a successful musical career with my band or as a published writer? How cool would that be?

225. perspective

There were moments this week when I really got bummed out about leaving Hawaii, especially all of my friends.

But then I realized...

It's not like that scene at the end of The Abyss where Ed Harris heads down the, uh, abyss to defuse the nuclear bomb. He took the trip knowing he wouldn't have enough air for the return trip.

That's not the kind of trip I'm taking.

I mean, I know I won't be able to jump in my car and drive to see my Hawaii friends, but it's not like I'm flying to Mars. There are airplanes that can fly me back if things don't work out or if I get insanely homesick (probably from the lack of sunlight).

On another note, I think the biggest concern I have about Seattle is making new friends. I've had a chance to hang out with a bunch of old friends this week and for the most part, the friends who mean a lot to me are ones that I've known for years. Meeting new people stresses me out. I don't like it. I especially hate that moment right after you've run out of small talk. Usually, when I get to that point, I just make up some excuse (like, "oh, I'm sorry, I just pooped my pants") and make a quick getaway.

And I'm no good at follow up. For the most part, I don't call a lot of people to talk or to hang out. I usually wait for people to call...but that's not entirely accurate because it's not like I'm sitting around, staring at my cell phone wishing it would ring. What I mean to say is, I'm entirely comfortable just hanging by myself. I go to the bookstore alone. I see movies alone. I don't drink alone, but that's because most of the bars in Hawaii have karaoke machines and that means awful singers or awful songs (often both).

My poor people skills and my love of solitude makes for an unfortunate combination in a new city, but it's not like I'm going it alone. I'll have my band up there with me and they're a lot better at meeting people than I am so it's not like I'm going to end up as some crazy homeless cat person. And I can always fly back to Hawaii for a weekend or something (time and money permitting) if I start getting twisted up in a bad way.

Look, I'm going to do my best to make it, and I don't see much of a problem. My rent is only $500 and I like to think I know how to stretch a dollar pretty far if I need to. I have marketable office skills, I have a manager ready to give me glowing recommendations, and I don't mind going back to doing temp work.

"Hey, Randall. It sounds like you're trying to convince yourself of something."

Hmm, I can see how it might seem that way. And maybe that is partly what I'm doing. I want to write down all the optimistic things I see about making this move so that (like I wrote in the previous post) I can look back and remind my self of why I moved if things start going sour. But I don't see that happening. But it's good to have a backup plan just in case. But I don't think I'll need it.

224. point me back to this entry

I can't believe I'll be leaving Hawaii in just about one week.

Earlier today I had my last haircut by my stylist of over ten years. She works at Macy's and she's great if only because I just sit in the chair and she knows exactly what to do. I just tell her "short" or "long" and she has at it. To be completely honest, I first started getting my hair cut by her because she's really cute, but it didn't take long to see that she wielded a mean pair of scissors.

Last haircut. Last full week in Hawaii. I'm sure there'll be lots of lasts in the next few days and it feels really strange. This is by far the biggest life change I've ever taken on and I feel a strange mix of sadness and excitement. Thankfully, fear isn't an emotion I'm wrestling with...at least not yet.

If it were up to me, I'd like to be done with the move already just so that I won't have to go through all the "goodbyes." It would be much easier for me to just make a clean break and be done with it. I try to go out of my way to make people around me feel comfortable, and saying "goodbye" doesn't allow for that. So not only do I have to deal with the sadness of moving away from the people I love, I'll also be repeatedly put into situations where I'll be the cause of discomfort for the very people I try so hard to soothe.

But I have to go. I love Hawaii and my friends here but I know, with a certainty that is rare for me, that I'm supposed to be in Seattle with my band.

I don't talk about it much (probably because I don't like facing it myself), but I don't like big decisions. (And I've never made the connection until now, but I think this is part of the reason why I've been single all these years.) On top of that, there are parts of me that are riddled with self-doubt. I believe this unfortunate combination of personality traits has kept me from fully realizing my potential.

What I'm trying to get at is the idea that this move to Seattle should be so outside of my comfort zone as to be impossible. A life change of this magnitude should not be something I can take on, but I really am looking forward to the move.

I know the main reason I'm comfortable with the move is the fact that I'm not going up alone. I'll have my band mates up there with me, and not just that, but we have a goal to pursue: global musical domination. Having a goal and friends to pursue it with somehow takes a lot of the fear and insecurity out of the equation. Somehow, it makes the things I should be concerned about (job, car, making new friends) seem insignificant. I suppose one or two months from now, I might be in full on freak-out mode trying to make things work, but if you see me post a blog like that, be sure to point me back to this entry.

223. failure

I made a goal to post at least one blog entry per week.

I consider a week to go from Sunday through Saturday.

Last blog posted was dated 09/04/06.

That took care of last week.

This week, I haven't posted anything.

This post doesn't count.

Boo for Randall.

222. thoughts on Seattle

So I'm moving to Seattle in less than a month. I've known about this move for a while now but it's getting close. I know this is going to be a huge change for me but it hasn't been that big of a deal for me...until these past few weeks.

See, for the most part, I'm a really laid back kind of guy. I take things in stride and I tend not to get overly emotional about changes. But the reality of the immensity of this move is beginning to get very real. Two things in particular are driving home the point for me.

1. I sold my car a few weeks ago.

I didn't really mind letting the car go because it's seventeen years old and didn't have a lot going for it - the AC gave out years ago, and it was a Corolla station wagon, not exactly a chick magnet. But I've had that car for sixteen years and was very good to me. All in all, it was pretty easy to let the car go, but it really drove (no pun intended) home the point that I'm getting rid of things that I love for this move.

Funny side note, I found out that the car stalled about a week after I sold it. Turns out it didn't have any oil in it. The way I heard it, they took the car to the shop and the mechanic pulled out the dip stick and it was bone dry. Oops! I like to think that the car shed tears of oil because it was missing me.

2. Martin, the guitar player/lead singer of my band, Harrison, and his wife are already up there and looking for a place to live and they've been asking me how much I can pay for rent.

Again, I knew I would have to find a place to live up there, but just the fact that I have to actually put a dollar amount out there as to how much I want to pay per month makes the move that much more real to me. It's one thing to say that you're going to live in Seattle. It's another thing to say that I'm willing to pay up to X amount per month in rent.

The deal isn't set yet but there is a place that they're seriously considering so not only do I have a rental amount, I also have an address for this place.

Doesn't get much more real than that.

"So how are you feeling not that the reality of the move is setting in?"

Actually, I feel pretty good. I really do feel like a new phase of my life is about to begin. And I really do believe that part of the reason I haven't been blogging as much lately is because a part of my subconscious is already there.

I guess to be completely, bluntly honest, there's a part of me that knows Hawaii isn't where I'm supposed to be right now. This part of me has known this for years now, and one of the reasons why it's taken so long to actually make the move is because of the band.

I had told my workplace that I was planning on being in the mainland by 2003. At that time I told myself that there were only two things that would keep me in Hawaii: meeting the girl of my dreams or getting into a band that was serious about moving to the mainland. Well, I didn't meet the girl but the band found me.

Which brings me here - four weeks away from Seattle.

With all that in mind, I suppose that's part of why I'm not more worried about the move and I'm actually not all that bummed about what I'm leaving behind. I mean I know I'll miss my friends and family and the food and...and, uh... Well, I'm sure I'll find other things to miss once I'm there but I'm hoping that I'll find that I've gained much more than I've lost.

This move is way overdue.

I'll probably start freaking out more and more as the date gets closer but there's no way I'm changing my mind.

I think of Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter, who recently died doing what he loved...wait, maybe that's not the best example to use here, but what I'm getting at is the idea that at this point in my life, I'm not supposed to be in Hawaii where it's warm and comfortable and familiar. I've known that for years and so in my mind, the things that I'm giving up are a bargain compared to what I'll gain. I don't know what that is yet, but I do know that I can't find it here.

Of course this might be just so much bravado and I might be filled with misery and regret once I'm up there, but I'll never know if I don't try.

I've written before that I'm not one who's sensitive to spiritual matters. I can't say that I hear from God the way some Christians do, but I know in a way that transcends reason that I'm supposed to get my ass over there. And I can only attribute that certainty to the Holy Spirit.

And how can I say no to that?

221. tooting my own horn (aka shameless self-promotion)

So it turns out that one of my stories (this one) is getting published in the first issue of Ankeny Briefcase. The Briefcase is (as far as I can tell) a kind of side project of the Burnside Writer's Collective. I believe the collective is run by Donald Miller - yeah, the guy who wrote Blue Like Jazz.

And although I think it's cool to know that my little story will be out there, I'm not getting too excited about it yet because this is the Ankeny Briefcase's first issue and I have no idea what to expect - what will the printing look like, how will it be distributed, how good are the other stories, is anybody really going to read any of it? I don't know. Still, I'm thrilled to be included.

220. The Lepidopterist

A friend of mine has a brilliant comic strip blog called allergic to umbrellas. About a month ago, he said his blog was going to host a Guest Artist Week and he asked some of his artist friends to contribute work for this. I felt honored to be invited to contribute because he's a sharp guy with good taste (and I'm not just saying that because he asked me to contribute).

Anyway, it's been over a month now and I'm not sure what happened so I figured I'd just post the story on my blog.

And so I present...


The Lepidopterist

What else could he have done? With all the traffic on the street, Gavin wasn't even going the speed limit of 25. He saw the basketball enter the street from the sidewalk, out from an alleyway, and before he could make the connection between ball and boy, the child single-mindedly appeared in the street after the ball. The child didn't even have time to turn and see his SUV before it muscled over him - beating him down like a playground bully. There was only the slightest squeal of tires but it was too late even before his foot bore down on the brake pedal.

Screams and yelling, hands waving and finger pointing followed. There were stares - gazes angry, disbelieving, shocked, and scared. All this energy trained on him, his SUV, and the child, unconscious, trembling in acute shock.

Gavin was a lepidopterist - a scientist who specializes in the study of butterflies, moths and similar insects. He was on his way to a lecture and presentation at a private elementary school. In the back of his SUV was a box containing a dozen monarch butterflies - Danaus plexippus.

These butterflies lay their eggs on the milkweed plant. They feed on this plant and their bodies glean and store bitter chemicals known as cardenolides from its sap. Any given bird will only attempt to eat a monarch caterpillar or butterfly once because even if it can get past the bitter, pungent taste, the endless vomiting that follows will drive home the point that this insect, defenseless as it appears, is not to be reckoned with.

As the din of the crowd grew, Gavin was stunned. What's the protocol in a case like this? As a man of science, he knew that there were ways that things were done - procedures that both maintained order and ensured repeatable, verifiable experimental results - without which science could not go forward. This kind of deterministic certainty crept into every area of his life and while it made for a quiet, peaceful life, it also induced a kind of paralysis in unfamiliar situations, and certainly, this was one of them.

Questions, questions, questions. "Should I back up? What if the child is behind the front wheels? Should I get out? What will this do to my insurance? Can I be held at fault? What about the lecture at the school? Who are all these people? What will I say? Why now? Why me? Why do things always go so wrong? Oh my God, did I just kill a child?"

The questions continue to rattle through his mind and he lets them bounce off of one another. As if by instinct alone, he leaves the engine running, opens the door, gets out of the SUV, and braces himself before bending down to see what he's done. There are already a couple of bystanders looking underneath the chassis. They are calling out to the kid and he takes this to be a good sign until he sees the pool of blood darkening the asphalt.

One of the wonders of the monarch butterfly is its migration pattern. In the fall, these tiny insects make their way from Canada and the northern most of the United States down to the slopes of Sierra Madre Del Sur in southern Mexico - a journey of over three thousand miles. What makes this journey even more miraculous is the fact that the butterflies who migrate north are not the same ones that migrated south the year before. In fact, the entire round trip can encompass up to seven generations, most of whom mate and die along the northern leg of the journey. As the end of summer approaches, a special generation of butterfly is born - one whose life-span is up to eight times longer than that of their grandparents. This is the generation that makes the long haul down south to escape the bitter winter cold.

Of course the big mystery is how this last generation knows the way back to the homeland of their great-great-great-great-grandparents - a place they've never seen before. Gavin likes to believe that butterflies pass the secrets of this journey on to their offspring through song. He imagines the butterflies singing to one another about an odyssey of epic proportions as they fly ever northward. And he pictures the southbound flyers marveling at the way the song that they've had ingrained into them through repetition guides them on their way back to the mountains of Mexico.

Peering under the vehicle, Gavin can see that the boy is still alive but in very bad shape. He has no medical training but he can see signs of trauma everywhere along the boy's misshapen body. Another man runs up to the scene and introduces himself as a doctor - an oncologist, but a doctor nevertheless. He accesses the scene and barks an order to Gavin telling him to back his car up slowly.

He nods and gets back into his SUV. He puts it in reverse and backs right into the car behind him - a subcompact hatchback. Its hood buckles as crumple points in the front end give way. Gavin guns his engine and manhandles the little car back against its will. The woman behind the wheel doesn't sound her horn but she doesn't lay off of her brakes either. Satisfied that he's made enough room for the doctor and child, he parks his SUV halfway on top of the lady's hood.

He's done all that he can. There's nothing left to do but to let the life of this accident play itself out. It's all out of his hands. He shuts off the engine and watches the drama unfold in front of him through the window. Fire trucks, ambulance, police, first responders. Questionings, reports, no accusations, thankfully, but the guilt comes anyway. His cell phone rings. It's the school asking him where he is.

The details of butterfly migration are a mystery. The metamorphosis from larval form (caterpillar) into pupa and finally into butterfly is nothing short of a miracle. Once encased in its chrysalis, a radical, comprehensive transformation takes place. It begins with a process called histolysis which breaks down much of the caterpillar's tissue into a kind of gelatinous soup. Not everything is destroyed. Spared are the internal organs as well as a special set of cells called histoblasts. These cells are instrumental in building new body parts - legs, compound eyes, antenna, and proboscis, to name just a few - through a process called histogenesis. The wings actually begin developing from the first larval stages. Much of the wings' formation occurs within the caterpillar's body, but during metamorphosis, they grow exponentially and adhere themselves to the outer cuticle.

Once this transformation is complete, the (now) butterfly breaks through the chrysalis and emerges wet with crumpled wings. It clings to what's left of the chrysalis as it pumps hemolymph (insect blood) through its body, basically inflating its wings. After about an hour (depending on surrounding temperature and humidity), the wings harden into a rigid structure that enables flight. The horny butterfly takes to the air, eager to migrate and to mate.

Two weeks later, Gavin pays a visit to the boy's house bearing one small gift. His bruises have faded and broken bones are mending behind plaster casts. No hard feelings between any of the parties involved. Gavin sets a small cage on the boy's bureau. He points out the tiny green chrysalis attached to a twig and tells him that if he listens quietly and closely enough, he just might hear traces of the song of migration - a tune three thousand miles long.

(as always, you can see my other short stories at The LoneTomato Sauce)

219. movie recomendation: Little Miss Sunshine

Hard to believe it's been over one month since I've posted anything. I started a couple entries but never got around to finishing them, let alone posting them.

But I'm back.

At least for this entry...we'll see what happens henceforth.

"So where've you been?"

Well, I suppose I could say it was this or it was that but truth be told, I just didn't feel I had all that much to say. No, that's not the complete truth. The gritty truth of the matter is that I was lazy and unmotivated (not necessarily in that order).

And here's the strange thing. After a couple weeks or so, it got to the point where I felt like I had to have some kind of grand revelation in order to start posting again. See, before I stopped, one of the reasons I was posting so much was because of momentum. What I mean is, posting on a regular basis became something I felt like I need to keep up with just for the fact that I'd been doing it so consistently. On top of that, I knew people were reading and so I didn't want to let them down and so I kept posting even when I didn't feel like it.

And then when I stopped posting, it was like the opposite. I didn't post because I wasn't posting and it felt strange to just start up again without some kind of big epiphany.

But maybe all it took was a movie so amazingly great that I had to write about it.

And so here I am, writing and posting again.

"So what's the movie already!"

Okay, it's this little independent film called Little Miss Sunshine directed by Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris (who, judging by what's written about them in the Internet Movie Database, were both music video directors before this film). The film's cast includes the always brilliant Greg Kinnear, Alan Arkin, Toni Collette, and Steve Carell.

But the true star of the movie is the writing and the story and all the unexpected moments of tenderness amid chaos. It's basically a road trip movie about a highly dysfunctional family trying to get from New Mexico to California so that their daughter/sister/neice/granddaughter can make it to a beauty pageant. And I know that sounds like a pretty drab pitch, but the genius is in the details - how the characters crash in to one another and the surprising sparks of tenderness and grace that come out of their conflicts.

I used to be a BIG movie guy. There was one year where I averaged at least one movie per week for about a year and a half. But for the past few years, I'm on a roll if I see one movie per month (and that includes both rentals and at the theater). Two reasons for the decline. First, one of the two main art-house theaters morphed into a $1 movie joint and second, I've just found that the general quality of recent movies (even promising art-house/independent flicks) ranges from mediocre and predictable to downright waste of time.

On the one hand, you have big, blockbuster movie franchises that either use flashy special effects to distract you from noticing all the holes in the plot or try to wow you with the over-used M. Night Shyamalan-style surprise/twist ending. And then on the other hand you have your artsy fartsy indie films that condescendingly mock middle-class suburbia (yeah, I'm talking to you Mr. Dynamite) or paint such a dark, bleak, cynical portrait of life that you want to slit your wrists during the end credits (see my review of the Woodie Allen film, Match Point in blog 158).

Is it just me, or does it seem like movies these days are just trying too hard?

Little Miss Sunshine has renewed my faith in movies. It's tough and tender and strangely believable considering how odd it's cast of characters are - a Proust scholar who tried to kill himself, a teenager who has taken on a self-imposed vow of silence after reading Nietzsche, a horny geriatric who snorts heroin, a failed motivational speaker, the mother who tries to keep this family together, and a little girl trying to get to her beauty pageant. It sounds like a cheap gimmick (put random characters in a VW bus and watch what happens) but what's great about the movie is how the core humanity of the characters bleeds through their angular exteriors.

And maybe the most amazing feat of the film is the way it ends happily, but in a way that's both unexpected and utterly satisfying. We live in such a cynical, skeptical society that happy endings that don't feel fake or cheap or kitschy are nearly impossible to pull off, but Little Miss Sunshine does just that.

Definitely one of my two favorite movies of 2006 so far (the other one being Inside Man - see blog 186).