[two things]

One of my best friends, Nate, is a wise man indeed.  This is stolen from his blog:

“If I could tell you two things to encourage you today, they would be:

1. Keep on loving.
2. Breathe: you’re going to be ok.”

frozen chicken nuggets, white walls, retarded cats

It’s a cold night, and the house is quiet.  Sometimes, in moments like this, the sound of the appliances in the kitchen, the wind whirling outside the windows, and the traffic on the street at the bottom of the hill my house is on work in a strange unison and make it sound like it’s raining.  Typing on a computer keyboard can sound like rain sometimes too, depending how heavy your fingers are, and how much they lift from the keys before you place them on new ones.  I just finished Don Miller’s “A Million Miles in a Thousand Years.”  It’s a really good read I recommend to anyone.   It’s a narrative wherein Miller spends much time analyzing the elements of story (conflict, inciting incident, crossing, tragedy, going through conflict to obtain something,etc) and how they reflect real life.  I bring that up because, like it has been while reading most of his books, I was forced to scrutinize my own life and ask myself a difficult question: Is my life a story worth telling (or reading)?  I have to be honest with myself in answering, and say it is often not.  I’m very normal in a lot of ways.  No good story would talk about the white walls in my house, or the frozen chicken nuggets in my fridge.  It might mention that I have a relatively exciting job, with more juicy drama than it’s worth sometimes; Or that I’ve got a retarded cat who sits on the coffee table directly in front of me every night staring in my direction while I’m watching TV.  Honestly though, when I look at my life, there are boring moments, yes, perhaps more than I’m proud of, but the most valuable of times are rooted in the people around me.  I could not be emphatic enough about how much my friends spur me on to love and good works.  They are the kind of people who are trying to speak good stories into nothing, who are trying to make something of living in a suburb, and who are trying to include other people in the story.

A good example would be how a group of my closest friends started an organization that is notorious for hosting guerrilla art shows and concerts in random venues and places throughout Santa Clarita, a city where family finger painting and cover bands dominate the art scene.  Another great example would be a different friend, who is learning that he’s got an exceptional ability to listen, and who can sit for hours with me over coffee, letting my loose lips sink ships ad infinitum only to nod his head at the end of it (the end of infinitum?…oops) to acknowledge he sincerely heard me, he loves me, and he cares about what I had to say.  A different friend works with High School kids so they don’t go down some of the roads she did.

The truth is I could go on and on, but I’m writing because I feel compelled to acknowledge that I think God can make mundane stories worth something, that I think He’s doing that with me, with my friends, with the things we are part of together.  At the same time, I’m making an effort to live my own life more purposefully, more calculatedly.  A group of us have started meeting once a week with the purpose, essentially, of living our lives more intentionally in the best way we feel possible.  It’s amazing how, when this starts happening, there can be so much pleasure in little things like frozen chicken nuggets, white walls, and retarded cats.

I end with Don Miller:

“I don’t wonder anymore what I’ll tell God when I go to heaven, when we sit in the chairs under the tree, outside the city…I’ll tell God [my story] and he’ll laugh, I think, and he’ll remind me of the parts I forgot, the parts that were his favorites.  We’ll sit and remember my story together, and then he’ll stand and put his arms around me and say, ‘Well done,’and that he liked my story.  And my soul won’t be thirsty anymore.”

all things go

i’ve made a lot of mistakes, in my mind

a barbecue (this is really about that)

Today I got a text from a friend inviting me to a good old-fashioned barbecue at his house this evening.  I was initially a little bit hesitant, as going to a barbecue typically means interacting with people. I’m learning I don’t do well with groups in general, and I certainly don’t do well with groups of college-aged, church going people I’ve never met.  But, bearing in mind that my friend’s parents are from Texas (and, by extension, know innately how to cook amazing food that could clog your arteries in seconds) and that I would probably be eating microwave chicken nuggets otherwise, I opted in.

Initially I managed to mingle pretty well.  People are easily entertained by self-defacing humor and gesticulation, but as more and more people started coming, and my friend’s started mingling with people who’s names I’ll never remember, I was again reminded that I don’t do groups well.  So, after having filed through a line of people in order to get my burger, and after having repeated my name atleast twice to every individual I introduced myself to, I resigned to the corner where Nathan’s two younger sisters were watching High School Musical.  It seemed like a comfortably reclusive alternative to talking about football, or shopping at Costco.  It really wasn’t as bad as it sounds (after all, that Zach Effron is a stone cold fox).  Between rousing courses of “The Boys are Back” and “High School Musical” I took to observing the other people crammed in the living room.  There was a couple in the corner supporting a small child as he walked his 102nd step- smiling.  There were two guys talking about work, eating burgers- smiling, and there was a group of girls reminiscing over days past- smiling.  While this was all good and fine, I’ve seen it before, many church gatherings look like this.  The two people who stuck out most sorely, though, were Nathan’s parents.  They were so in their element tonight, you could tell, they really felt among family, and it made me wish I had a group of people I could experience that with.  He spent all night on the grill, and I felt like I never looked over without seeing him laugh.  She spent the night inside serving up banana pudding, and refilling chip bowls, but she looked elated.

Most of the rest of my night was spent in that corner, Nathan, his girlfriend, Amanda, and Timmy eventually sat down and we chatted about family, and food, interpersonal dynamics, and the instability of some sub-atomic particles.  Then we prayed as a group, Nathan made some coffee, and everyone slowly settled into conversation again.  Eventually a few of us made our way to the back of the house

Probably because the bathroom was back there
And eventually into Nathan’s room where we listened to music, and chatted some more.

I’m not sure why, at that point, it clicked for me.  We were listening to Nate and Timmy’s band’s new song and I remember swiveling around on the computer chair to see several familiar faces standing there behind me.  I was drinking mediocre coffee spiced with something not-so-exotic from a mug that had the world “Recovery” and a giant cross printed in the center, and the word family was the only thing I could think of.  I felt genuinely content in that moment.

I’m not entirely sure why I suck at groups, or guy time.  I know things like this are really about deeper issues.

This is really about that
Everything is
It could be based in the fact I was mocked as a kid for having a weird name
Or about how I grew up with a heaping mound of expectation and resulting insecurity regarding how I was expected to behave
Or how I always felt invalidated because I couldn’t play baseball like my younger brother
Or catch, for that matter

but, looking around at that moment, so many of the fears I found myself wrestling with most of the night seemed to dissipate.  I know that I’m where I’m supposed to be, for now.  I know these people, and a handful more, are the family I’ve been given, and am responsible to live out family-like-life with.  Doing that can suck, and it brings up more issues worth discussing.  After all, being part of a family is not always pretty.  I guess what I’m saying is that I’m glad to be where I know I’m supposed to be, for the first time in a while, and I truly believe I have the right individuals around me to share this time of life with- in fact, I know I need them.  The more time goes by, the more experience tends to establish that I was never intended to do this alone.  I tried it once, recently, it’s not pretty.

swimming under bridges i set fire to

I had coffee with a friend today.  I realized, as he walked in, that we’d made somewhat of a silent commitment to see each other once a week, and we’ve held to it, successfully, and religiously, for about 14 days now.  Sometimes it’s hard for me to be around him.  My ego hates his wisdom, and his success, and how he’s had the balls to do things I think I’d never be able to do, like quit his job and put it all on the line to play music and invest his time in the arts organization he started.

All while, willfully, submitting to the fact that he lives at home.
What right minded 22 year old is ok with living at home?

It’s good though, the way my ego hates Nathan, because it causes me to step outside myself, it makes me look at him as objectively as I can and think about the reason’s why I do.  Honestly, it boils down to pride, it boils down to life boat (some of you have no idea what that means, and if you don’t you should read Don Miller’s “Searching For God Knows What”).  What I mean is that I feel invalidated by Nate’s success, by his relationship with his girlfriend, by his logic, by his wisdom, and by his life experiences- this is, essentially, jealousy.  See, I am subjected to a system that says that if I am not at the top rung of the ladder that I am, somehow, lesser than he is.  It’s the same system that says if you are a Starbucks Barista when you’re 25, you’re lesser than those who have finished college and are working entry-level positions at major corporations, or teaching classes at Community Colleges, or that if you’re not fucking a cheerleader you’re less of a man.  The fact that I can identify this speaks to how I think I’ve been growing over the last few months. 

Because that system, the ladder system (the life boat), is not important, it’s out right, and truly, a lie.  I am no less valuable or substantial or purposefully existent than Nate, or my boss, or Brad Pitt. The fact that I know this is true allows me to spend time with Nathan and glean from his wisdom, and to love him.  It puts me in a place where I don’t have to worry about being above him, or worry about him being above me.  It lets me give myself to him, and anyone else without having to care about what they think at the end of it.  Don’t get me wrong, this is not how it always pans out for me, I still care too often, but, because the life boat is a lie, I am free to interact with people without giving attention to how much I need their validation. I think what I’m learning right now is to walk in that.  The fires I started on most of the relational bridges in my life are slowly dying, billows of smoke blowing over distant cities, and I’m seeing that so many of them were built on things I could never burn down but that, even if they were, it wouldn’t matter because my validation doesn’t come from them, the people.

I think a lot of these lessons have to do with my return to a Biblical way of thinking about much of life. See, the thing about living life the way Jesus talked about doing is that it frees you to love people more, and need them less.

500 Days of Summer

I figured, since I’d alluded to writing reviews on my blog, that I would start by sharing my thoughts on Marc Webb’s “500 Days of Summer.”

This film is very beautiful in a lot of ways.  I’ll warn you, it’s a bit of an emotional rollercoast, at least it was for me.  The relationship between the two main characters, Tom (Joseph Gordon Levitt) and Summer (Zoey Deschanel), hit a very personal chord- as, I’m sure, it will for many people around my age.  Essentially, Tom is a true Romantic at heart- having grown up believing that he would someday find true love in “the one.”  This appears to become a reality when his boss at work hires a new assitant, Summer, who has an antithetical view on love.  After effectively realizing an undeniable chemistry exists between the two, Summer makes it blatantly clear she is not looking for a serious relationship, and while this puts Tom off in some ways, it intrigues him in others.  The relationship matures through a series of experiences (shopping at Ikea *one of the many reasons this film hit home*, looking at buildings downtown, going to the movies, screaming obscene things in the middle of the park, etc) and after about a month’s time the two are sleeping together regularly, and sharing secrets they’ve told no one else.  Tom and Summer’s relationship remains nebulous, and undefined throughout the film, distancing itself from official words like “together” or “boyfriend and girlfriend.”  I’ll admit, parts of this film were a little difficult to watch, but it was very real in a lot of ways and well balanced by comic relief.  I found the two leads relatable, believeable, and very human.  The film certainly has a relevent feel, but seems significantly more timeless than most Romantic Comedies released today.  It also cannot go without mention that “500 Days of Summer” has an amazing soundtrack-  I’ve had Temper Trap’s “Sweet Disposition” on repeat for the last 10 hours.  All in all, I would recommend this movie to most anyone (though I’d warn you to proceed with caution as it might resonate more truly than you expect).

moved

There are very few things in this life that can move me to such extreme emotion that I am either left, almost literally, breathless, or in tears.  Thinking tonight about the people closest to my heart, I am that kind of moved to find myself so lucky.  I worry too much, I worry about life, and work, and security, and success, and self image.  I think about relationships, a future, finishing school, moving, the clothes I’m wearing a hell of a lot more often than I should, and also I think about Portland a lot, especially lately.  Please, Reader, especially if you know me, do not look too deeply into what I’m about to say, because I have NO idea if I’ll actually be moving to Portland anytime soon- things have not worked out too many times for me to put too much hope in transfering with Starbucks- but,  a pending change in life has made the relationships I most value all the more sweet.  I’ve allowed myself to get really upset, especially recently, about the impermanence of everything around me- particularly relationships, but the last few days I’ve found myself noticing that it is the finiteness of human interaction that gives it its savor.  We were meant to change, and that message is becoming increasingly clear to me, however, I do believe that there are individuals in my life who will never go away (except by death), and I’m honored to call them my friends.

thinking

Sometimes, I think, a person needs to feel alone-ness. I think we, as people, need to take time to reflect, to look inward, to think about things that are bigger than us- whether that be God, or other people, or purpose, or life- on the whole. It’s in those times, for me, that I step outside of myself, that I gain perspective. I need to learn, though, that not everyone else is exactly like me, they don’t view life through the same lenses, they don’t have the same kind of personalities, and the same world view, and they’re not INFJ’s (lol). Also, I think, drinking wine can be a really nice thing, and that Cher has some relatively decent hit singles (I particularly like that one everyone played after 9/11), and that Through Painted Deserts might be my favorite Don Miller book.

onward.

I feel like my perspective on certain aspects of my life is coming full circle again. Those moments wherein you can look back and see growth and movement interest me endlessly- those sweet, tranquil, times of self reflection when you can remind yourself that life is moving forward, and for the best, and when you can see that things are bigger than you. I’m seeing that now, that life is meant to be lived- truly lived, being poured out, loving. Life is bigger than my salary, and my Scion, and the 2 for $24 tri-blend shirts I bought in two of the latest colors at Urban Outfitters last week. It is bigger than the cup of Iced Venti Starbucks I’ve convinced myself I need everyday, and my unlimited ability to text on my already out of date iPhone. At the forefront of my mind, in all this is Portland. I see it as a beacon of change, and hope (of sorts) and also as a threat to present relationships, and the people I currently love.
Leaving is never easy for everyone.
But I’m trying to spend less time wondering how things would be if they were not what they are, and also, I’m trying to spend more time eating fast food with my brother, talking to my mom about my life, and hugging my dad when he comes home from work.

life, and time, and growing

“I want to keep walking away from the person I was a moment ago, because a mind was made to figure things out, not to read the same page recurrently.” -Don Miller

That does resonate with me in a lot of ways. I’m sure we can break it down, and strip it of it’s truth, and it’s beauty, and say that we shouldn’t be that flighty, but I think it would do the work an injustice. Today I have been astounded at the way life changes, and suddenly. I told a friend, once, that life was like seeing a city in the distance, lights, and noises, and life, then looking down to the reality that you can’t see what your feet are standing on- but they are standing, and you can see the city in front of you. So, you step, slowly, surely, forward, never knowing where your feet are until they are actually there, only knowing where you are going- not what you’ll encounter along the way.

I feel like change is stirring, I can see that it’s already started, and I’m trying to savor moments, and beauty, and memories, and people right now. I’m trying to love the people in my life with everything. I’m trying not to hold myself back from them.

My mom has a facebook. It’s weird, but I read a lot of it today, and I think it helped me appreciate her more. She is a person, and she hurts, and she feels, and she loves, and she longs. She’s lived a lot of life, but she still has dreams, and she has a huge heart that I often let myself forget about, especially when we get in the kind of nasty fights her and I have engaged in on more than one occasion. We are too much alike, and neither of us likes to acknowledge that in one another when we are angry. I bring up my mom, because I love her, and she is an example of how I am trying to let my heart be poured out to the people around me.

I’ve been nervous, and anxious, and very scared all day about the possibility of great changes happening soon. As the day ends, though, I find myself sitting at my computer, listening to Maria Taylor, and knowing that this needs to happen, that change needs to happen, and even as I think all of it, and write it in my journal the pages, blown by the fan in my window, fall as they will and the words I’d written in black sharpie speak truth to my heart, “You need to let yourself go through this.” I wrote them three weeks ago.