Dr. Seuss and Politics

This is it: the day the fate of our country will forever be determined. Today we either enter Utopian bliss or seal our own destruction. Today is our only shot at rescuing America from its sinful ways; if we choose wrong today, our once-great nation will pass under God's judgment and most likely fail.

All right, hold the phone. Are American standards of morality rapidly deteriorating? As a Christian, I believe so, yes. Is the right to elect our President a blessing, and one I think we should take advantage of? You bet. I voted for the first time this election season and I'm proud to have done so. Does God have the power to judge sinfulness at any time? Of course He does. Look at Sodom and Gomorrah.

I don't agree with President Obama's politics, but I don't believe the fact that babies are being brutally murdered is his fault. Have his policies made it easier to get an abortion? Sure. Did I vote for him? No. But it isn't his fault. It's not his fault that lots of people consider homosexuality an inherent quality rather than a sinful lifestyle choice. Do his policies facilitate it? Yes. Is it his fault? No.

It's my fault.

It's my fault because I don't say anything. I don't always defend God's Word when its principles are questioned. I don't like trying to tell someone who identifies as gay how God feels about that. Even when I stand up for these issues that have jumped the border between morality and politics, I am more than content to sit back in apathy when someone uses the Lord's name in vain, telling myself that's "not as big a deal." I don't ask other Christians why they watch television shows filled with profanity and sex jokes. I shy away from directly telling an immodest girl that she's causing brothers in Christ to stumble.

Even at a Christian college, I pass people every day who don't know Jesus, and I don't even bother to mention Him. I'm not welling over with the indescribable joy that comes with salvation. For the most part, I don't care enough about others to try to get them to Heaven.

Why is America going downhill? I can blame it on politics all I want, but the bottom-line is I'm doing nothing to stop it. But at least I voted!

Growing up I loved Dr. Seuss' book The Lorax. As Dr. Seuss so often is, it's deeper than it seems at first glance, and I've always liked this quote: "Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not." I can vote a certain way, talk a certain way, blog a certain way, but if I'm not actually out there trying to affect change, what on earth is the point?

Lucky for us, hearts, unlike the government, always have the capacity to change. There won't be another presidential election for four years, and whatever happens tonight, we're stuck with it for a time. However, you can go out tomorrow and change someone's life. And that will have a longer lasting impact anyway.

Bottom line, this country isn't going to start changing until I start changing. So I'm gonna start changing. What about you?

Cherry Tree Lane

The weathervane next to your chimney turns

Again, and since the gray skies now grow bright

With colors dancing on the wings of kites, 

My time is spent, and though my warm heart yearns

To bring you with me in my travel case

Crammed in next to my coatrack and my books--

Your impish smiles folded into nooks

So I can take them out on rainy days.

Or better yet, to scorn ungrateful hearts

Who needed to be told your love was rare--

But no. The rooftops call through ashen air, 

Proclaiming there are stories yet to start.

Your happy ever after now begins, 

So I will barter passage with the wind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey peeps. I wrote this a couple of days ago. 

I was thinking deep collegiate thoughts the other day about how life changes and people come and go in each other's lives.  As a dear friend of mine would say, "The curtain goes up, and the curtain goes down," and that applies to people too. Sometimes people need your friendship desperately, but sometimes those same people stop needing you, even though you really want them to need you. While that's a serious bummer, you have to have a good gauge of when you've played your part in their life, and it's time to let them do their own thing. The great thing about it, though, is that it's not necessarily a bad thing. There are wonderful people and adventures still out there that need you. 

...And then, I thought, "That's just like Mary Poppins." 

And this poem was born. 

I kinda wanted the Poppins references to be sort of subtle-- the chimney and rooftops, and the never-ending travel case, and traveling by wind (like with the umbrella). Cherry Tree Lane is also the street the Bankses live on. Hopefully the references are obvious enough that maybe it made you think of Mary Poppins, but you didn't realize I did it on purpose. That's kind of what I was going for. 

Hope you enjoyed it! Critique welcome! (I don't always say that, but please. Critique if you wish.)

"Practically perfect people never allow sentiment to muddle their thinking." -Mary Poppins

Times vs. Helvetica: The Showdown

For my communications class, we journal once a week (ish) in our "versus journals." It's been Destiny vs. Free Will, Paycheck vs. Creative Fulfillment, etc. This week it was Times vs. Helvetica. This is what I came up with.

       Since the very invention of the typeface, mankind has faced a struggle of priorities. We have wrestled with that age old question, that battle of all battles-- Times? Or Helvetica? The only proper way to settle this debate rests in humanity’s staple problem-solving technique: hand-to-hand combat. Because of its extra appendages and superior agility, Times would undoubtedly conquer Helvetica in a fist fight, settling this epic rivalry once and for all. 

First of all, Helvetica’s lack of serifs gives Times the upper hand. Naturally, we would assume a man with eight limbs would utterly destroy the traditional four-limbed man in a cage match. Times, therefore, gaining many extra appendages in the form of its serifs, would by default annihilate Helvetica. Furthermore, these serifs generally make the Times font much sharper than Helvetica. Just as a lion, with its sharp claws, would in seconds slaughter a man armed only with trimmed fingernails, so Times, with its serif-claws, would destroy Helvetica and its dull edges.

Secondly, Times’ small agility makes it a fore-runner in this battle for the edges. A look at the two typefaces magnified will help to clarify this point. Below I have shown a lowercase letter T in both fonts:

t t

Note first the striking difference in size between Helvetica (left) and Times (right). Though both are pictured in 48 point font, Helvetica towers over its smaller opponent. At first this may seem like an advantage, but let us consider the fact that larger competitors provide a larger target and tend to move more slowly than smaller, more agile competitors. A look at the two fonts in italics will further prove this point:

t  t

Close examiners will note that Times seems to have a higher range of motion than Helvetica, italicizing at a wider angle. Of course, the ability to duck and move more quickly will prove to be a great advantage in a fist fight, sending yet another round to Times’ side of the scoreboard.

In every great battle, two stereotypic warriors emerge: the bumbling slab of muscle aiming to conquer by pure force, and the stealthy trickster who conquers by sharpness both of wit and of sword. While blunt force may seem impressive, it cannot hope to compete with the quick-moving, two-edged powerhouse that is Times. It is no wonder, then, that throughout the ages Times has conveyed our deepest thoughts between the covers of books, leaving the less serious Helvetica for the plodding pace of social networking and the like. After all, if the pen is mightier than the sword, your typeface might as well be just as sharp. 

Peter Pan Character Sketch

So in case you hadn't noticed... I've been on a Peter Pan kick lately. And by "lately," I mean the last eighteen years of my life. If my life was a book, Peter Pan would be a motif.

I must remember that when I write my memoir.

ANYWAYS.

I wrote this a while back and thought some of you out there in the Bloggerverse might find it entertaining. In Creative Writing last year we got outlines for writing character sketches, and one night I just felt like filling one out for Peter. Some of it is J.M. Barrie canon material and some of it is purely my imagination. I think it's kind of witty in places, if I do say so myself, so here it is.

Name: Peter Pan

Birthplace: London, England

Gender: Male

Appearance: Red-gold hair, green eyes, about 5’1”, skinny, still has all baby teeth, clothes made out of leaves, thin lips, freckles, barefoot, usually semi-dirty

Self image: Simply the greatest thing ever to grace the universe

Age: At least one year older than the oldest child present. (But for real, nearly thirteen. He doesn’t know that though.)

Health: Pristine

Addictions: Adventure and general mischief

Siblings: A nameless little brother, for whom he feels only contempt and a twinge of jealousy (although he’d never admit to that part)

Close Relationships: Tinker Bell, whom he often takes for granted, but actually cares for quite deeply; the Lost Boys, whom he sees as his disciples, of a sort; Hook—he values their rivalry and probably wouldn’t know what to do with himself without him.

Memory of father: Talking about what he was to be when he became a man.

Memory of mother: Lullabies

First love: Tinker Bell. He’s half in love with her but he’ll never know it, being twelve. He would answer that girls don’t have as much fun as boys. Too clean.

Current Home: The Neverland—second star to the right and straight on ‘til morning. Specifically, his hideout under a hollow tree (with the Lost Boys… but naturally it’s really all his). His own quarters w/in the hideout are enclosed by a red curtain and contain a hammock, a variety of stolen pirate swords and treasures, a niche in the wall for Tinker Bell, and several other treasures. 

Ideal home: Why, his current one, of course. If it weren’t, he’d move to his ideal one.

First job: Jobs are for grown-ups.

First memory: His first laugh as an infant (or so he claims. But it’s Peter, so who really knows?)

Worst memory: When Tink died.

Most haunting memory: Nothing haunts Peter Pan. He’s far too forgetful for that.

Favorite music: His pipes.

Least favorite music: Anything that’s not his pipes (unless, of course, he’s playing the instrument, in which place it is again his favorite).

Favorite/least favorite books: Books are for grownups.

Favorite activity: Flying, fighting Hook, taunting Hook, narrowly escaping Hook…

Least favorite activity: Anything boring or grownupish

Recurring dream/nightmare: Who knows? You’ll never get him to admit he even sleeps, much less dreams.

Areas of expertise: In his mind, everything there ever was ever. But honestly, he can fly. And for a kid he’s a sword-fighting prodigy. He would also like me to mention that he’s never lost at hide-and-go-seek.

Knowledge wished: Absolutely nothing. He thinks he knows everything.

Deepest fulfilled desire: Neverland. It’s his island, after all. 

Deepest unfulfilled desire: Honestly, he’s very static. The doesn’t want anything, and there’s nothing he would change. A little boy’s “deep” desires change so randomly day to day that there’s no way to pin one down for Peter.

Prized possession: Neverland. It’s his island, after all. 

Jealous of: No one. Or everyone. Depends on his mood.

Proud of: Himself. His cleverness. His many abilities. His extraordinariness. His ability to fight pirates at age twelve. His shadow. Need I go on?

Most adventurous travel: When you live in Neverland, travel no longer seems very adventurous. Quite the opposite, really. 

Biggest current disappointment: Disappointment is for grownups.

Reason for living: It’s an awfully big adventure.

Possible reason for dying: It’s an awfully big adventure.

The Island Come True

"Thus sharply did the terrified three learn the difference between an island of make-believe and the same island come true." -J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

Well, gentle reader, I went to college. Sorry I haven't blogged in nearly two months. I shall try to do better. 

I'm not entirely sure what I expected of college, but it's safe to say it's not this. Not that it's bad. I feel like I've had nearly a lifetime in this past month since I got here. I've gone through every emotion from confusion to ecstasy to heartbreak to homesickness, and I don't see this thrill ride of feelings stopping anytime soon. However, God has become my rock more than ever-- He is always here, He always will be here, and He never changes. And that is certainly a comforting thought.

My basic habits themselves have reversed. The first week or so I, a self-proclaimed night owl, reveled in the thought of staying up absolutely as late as I wanted. I didn't go to bed til one at all that week. The next week, all I wanted was to be in bed by ten. Worse, after being disorganized all my life, I have taken to writing to-do lists and cleaning my room everyday. WHO AM I?!?!?!?

I was blessed with a fantastic roommate, Amy, and two wonderful suitemates, Kelsey and Sarah. I didn't fully realize how wonderful they were until one of our first nights here, when the bathroom door on our side of the suite refused to open. With two of us on each side, we proceeded to try and break the door down. After many failed attempts, Kelsey tried to turn the knob again, and it just opened. We must have scared the door into submission. We cheered raucously in our victory... at least until the RA reminded us via intercom that it was quiet hour. J.K. Rowling says in the first Harry Potter book that there are some things you can't do together without becoming friends afterwards, and knocking out a mountain troll is one of them. Well, so is opening a stubborn bathroom door.

As to classes there have been relatively few mishaps. I say relatively because one Friday Amy and I slept until 11:30. Our first class is at 8. If you're gonna go, go all the way. 

In our defense, it only happens every once in a blue moon. No, seriously. That Friday was a blue moon. :)

Last weekend, I had the marvelous opportunity to speak at the God's Girls Rally in Ada, Oklahoma. I got to talk about the book of Esther and it was just wonderful. My mommy flew out to drive Amy and I down, so I got to spend the weekend with her, which was much needed. This whole being away from home thing is fun for a while, but sometimes you just need a hug from Mom.

:'(

Anyways.

I have figured out why people gain the freshman fifteen! It's because nothing in the cafeteria is particularly good except for the ice cream. (That's not entirely true, though. I've had an omelet almost every day since I've been here. I figured out about a week in that if you ask for real eggs, they give them to you. But you have to ask, or else they'll give you the egg from a carton. I felt smart figuring this out so fast.)

I have had two auditions since I've been here: one for Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat and another for a couple of one-acts. I am not in the musical, but I am in a one-act called The Snow Show. It's all very Charlie Brownish and adorable. I get a great monologue about whether or not I should stick my tongue to a telephone pole. 

One important fact you should know about Harding is that there are squirrels. Everywhere. They are crazy psycho awesome squirrels. They'll run right up to you. You remember the squirrels in The Sword and the Stone when Merlin turns Wart and himself into squirrels and the lady squirrel falls in love with Wart and then he turns back into a human and she cries? That's what the squirrels remind me of.

I'm really wrestling with what I want to do with my life. Obviously, I want to write, but there's not really any money in that, and I have to eat somehow. Teaching seems the logical choice for an English major, but I don't want to do something I don't really love just because I feel like I have no other options. I have no idea what's going to happen in the next four years, and it's a little bit intimidating. I'm glad God knows what's going on, because I have no clue.

Among other things, I have colored four pictures for my wall, four more to send to friends (as soon as I buy envelopes), gotten some of my Christmas shopping out of the way (I'm an overachiever), memorized Mark 1:1-15, read two books, painted my nails multiple times, won second prize at a club mixer for my awesome costume (I was Peter Pan), won a free t-shirt for my correct spelling of "camaraderie," converted Amy and Rachel to watching That Girl, eaten entirely too much Ben and Jerry's (Half Baked, if you wanted to know), drunk (drank?) Mexican coke (aka Coke with REAL SUGAR, in a GLASS BOTTLE), eaten multiple Chick-fil-a Chicken Biscuits, played in the Lily Pond, bought a new Beatles shirt, and caught the Gene Wilder Willy Wonka on television from the beginning. I have not walked under the Bell Tower (alone or accompanied) or touched the pregnant tree.

I think that minus the classes, Peter Pan would have rather liked college. 

To live will be an awfully big adventure.

Light in the Darkness

On Saturday I came back to a scary world.

I came back to a world in which twelve people are now dead, the victims of a brutal shooting at a midnight movie premiere at a Century 16 in Aurora. Fifty-eight more were seriously injured, and most are still in hospital beds hoping for a full recovery.

I'm not old enough to remember Columbine, and I have very little recollection even of 9/11. This mix of surreality, fear, and tragedy hitting me square in the chest is new. I think it's hitting me so hard mainly because it's so close to home. One of my best friends lives in Aurora, and probably would have gone to the premiere had her brother not been at Kamp. Another friend was in the theatre and came out without a scratch. Looking through my saved movie tickets I discovered that a year and a half ago I saw Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows in the now tragedy-marked Theatre 9.

All of us have questions, even those of us who aren't directly affected, who haven't lost loved ones, who aren't on the front lines of the tragedy. Why do things like this happen? What possesses someone to brutally murder innocent people? Why twice so close to home? It's enough to scare anyone.

I told you I came back... but I didn't tell you where I came back from.

I came back from a place where God is honored in all things, where people love Him deeply and try to serve Him with their lives. I came back from in-depth Bible discussions. I came back from honesty, friendship, chivalry, and love. I came back from laughter and tears, joy and compassion. I came back from... well, a river in the desert.

I don't know why twelve people met eternity Friday morning. I don't know why it's so close to home. But if there's anything I do know, it's that there is hope, and the world is going to see the need for it a little more today than it did a week ago.

And maybe, just maybe, I'm in the perfect position to show someone that hope.

"Behold, I will do something new, 
Now it will spring forth; 
Will you not be aware of it?
I will even make a roadway in the wilderness, 
Rivers in the desert." -Isaiah 43:19

If This Isn't Nice...

Those of you who know me well know that I'm a little bit of a quote fiend. I actually have a literal list of my favorites, and it's about a mile long. Being a writer, I guess I'm always searching for the right words, and quotes are proof that it's possible to find them, that someone was able to write or say something breathtaking and inspiring that lived beyond themselves.


I came across this one the other day, and it's been on my mind ever since:


"I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, 'If this isn't nice, I don't know what is.'" -Kurt Vonnegut


Even though I like quotes, they don't usually stick in my head for as long as this one has, but I'm thankful this one has stayed. In the last week I have more deeply appreciated several small joys that I wouldn't normally have thought too much about: hugs from my best friends after being gone a long time, conversations that require no effort to keep going, lying in bed and realizing I don't have to get up yet, having time to read a good book. And as it turns out, happiness that's acknowledged becomes even better.


I guess all I'm trying to say is if you revel in your happiness when it comes, your life feels so much happier, even though it's probably about the same as it's always been. Enjoy your life, because if this isn't nice, I don't know what is.