Date:	2009-11-03 09:58
Subject:	Lead Us Not
Security:	Public
Mood:	rushed
Music:	Datarock - Princess

Second week of real tech work, with the following disturbing development: shift times, vacations, bonuses, and virtually every other good thing are tied to my performance ranking. My performance ranking is based not on how many people I effectively help, but how fast I get people off the phone. So, even though I'm the guy that's supposed to help you when your internet is borked, my job rewards me most for pawning you off on Microsoft and Norton and telling you it's not my problem. Thankfully I have enough experience to help people and get the job done quickly, but it's still a pain, not to mention a disturbing systemic problem. Which seems to be the trend, really. If I ever get a job that doesn't require some kind of frustrating moral compromise my conscience will explode from the sudden absence of outside pressure.

I'm just glad I have the luxury of doing something resembling the right thing this time.

I hear some of you use this Twitter thing. Give me your names so I can stalk you. Mine is dietcokerobot.

I saw a graffiti tag in my neighborhood today, on the entrance gate just beyond the trees. This really surprised me, because the neighborhood, while not exactly posh or even exceedingly clean, does have a very strong air of dual-side-airbag, reinforced-multivitamin "suburban safe." Primed to their existence, however, I soon notice several others along the highway bridge piers leading out of the subdivision. Though vigorously painted over, they were still visible beneath the plaster now that I was looking for them. All this time before I thought it was just an attempt to make the base of the pillars more reflective, but it was really my tiny city's little war against vandalism.

It does unnerve me a little bit to have this so close to home. It means these places that look so safe, where I and fifteen dozen old ladies go jogging every morning, is a completely different place at night. Let's just hope this place never comes to me.

As I sat in my dumpster-salvaged love seat drinking a Diet Coke, reading Camus and watching last year's Haruhi AMVs, two thoughts occurred to me. First off, that, contrary to my earlier apprehensions, I really did have a style. It's just a style that is bizarre and unnerving without quite crossing into interesting.

The second was that, despite my aspirations to eccentricity, there probably existed a great deal of individuals like me. After all, the component parts are not only common, but reinforcing. The liberal arts degree alone embodies the peculiar mixture of pretension, entitlement, and uselessness that underlies all of these pursuits. Add a simultaneous revulsion for and worship of the consumer culture and your picture comes to fine Generation Y focus.

Only fourteen more days until my new job begins. Maybe then I'll have less time for being weird.

In this post: things we judge ourselves on but really shouldn't. This is brought about by my recent feeling like a failure of a human being by not having a job for six months. Totally stupid? Yes. But it happened. Hardcore. No job? I MUST CUT OUT MY LIVER AS PENANCE!!! Never mind that a sizable percentage of the country is in the same position due to a well-documented economic phenomena. IT IS UNFORGIVABLE!!!

Conversely, have you ever felt really awesome after completing something absolutely trivial? That thrill of elation upon alphabetizing your DVD collection, removing all of the hairs from a bar of soap, or successfully running for Senate is powerful, but utterly unjustified. What did you do to make the world a better place? Absolutely nothing! Shame upon you and the hollow satisfaction you represent!

Now, it may seem that I am out to rob you of all of the subtle joys and daily highs and lows that make your relatively trauma-free, middle-class lives worth waking up for in the morning. However, this is certainly not the case. I am robbing you of your joy for my own amusement, which, on the internet, is for some reason a critical distinction.

I call upon you to aid me in your own destruction by furnishing more examples of hollow pleasures, meaningless failures, and other gross amplifications of emotion. Commence!

So it turns out that recent legal developments have rendered the previous post absolutely wrong. Update your mental data banks to avoid embarrassment and confusion.

So it turns out the Second Amendment doesn't actually protect an individual's right to own firearms. Instead it's about state militias, which were all but extinct by the turn of the twentieth century and officially superceded with the creation of the National Guard. So basically, it has about as much to say about modern law and practice as the Third Amendment, which, unless said National Guard invites itself to your sleepover, is pretty much nothing.

As long as I live in Texas I will never, ever speak of this.

I have a wife now. That's awesome.

I saw the new Harry Potter movie. That's kind of awesome.

I played some of the best rounds of DDR in my life after consuming more alcohol than I had ever consumed in my life. That's really awesome.

My cake got famous without me. That's...I'm not sure what that is.

Date:	2009-06-30 22:32
Subject:	URGE TO KILL...RISING!
Security:	Public
Mood:	snarky

I would like to talk to today about something I hate, yet can't quite muster up a sound reason for hating. Think racial prejudice, only funny.

This thing is...this squirrel.

There is just something about this character that sends me into a frothing rage. That other squirrel is probably going to spend half the movie getting knocked around by this manipulative bitch. And, he is going to like it. AND THEN, he is finally going to hook up with her despite the fact that she has proven herself to be an abusive gold-digger (or nut-digger, but not in the good, sexual way). Is this the picture of romance we need to be painting for our children?

And then there's the whole matter of tertiary sexual characteristics. Why do all of these kids movies have some weird girlified character? For the prepubescents who actually know what romance is? For the parents who want to relive their younger years through previously unsexy creatures?

I know this is hardly a new thing, but it's getting a bit out of control.

This one is the best. Hourglass figure, ample cleavage, and...misshapen algae-colored head. It's almost like they're trying to mock the concept, only they're not. Which makes me more than a bit depressed, then a bit more depressed for being depressed about vague trends in children's movies.

Yep. Need a life.

Date:	2009-06-23 21:31
Subject:	How I Accidentally Got a Tattoo
Security:	Public
Mood:	discontent
Music:	311 - Hey You

Back in high school, I was known as The Disco King. This might have been a good thing had I not graduated high school in 1999. One day I was disco dancing in the orchestra pit, as was my custom, when a vigorous windmill maneuver slammed the mechanical pencil I was holding in my left hand firmly into my right thumb, leaving a quarter-inch sliver of graphite upright in the flesh. Naturally, this was very painful. I spent a good deal of my free time trying to root out the little graphite stick, but even with my great idleness my mind was eventually turned to other things and I was forced to leave it alone.

What I didn't realize was that my graphite implant was permanent. Ten years later, a little black smudge on my finger reminds me of a time when I was an even bigger dork than I am now. And that's worth something, I think. Because when you've lost your job, gotten kicked out of school, and resorted to living in your in-law's guest room, it's good to have a reminder that no matter how far you've fallen, you've still come a long way.

Though I frequently choose to forget, I do have a Facebook account. My new boss friended me today so I decided to trim the fat. Everything was going swimmingly until, lo and behold, a very inopportune friend suggestion!!!

It amazes me that that thing is still floating around. Hooray for internets.

Ashley and I sold some used books today. Hilarity ensues.

"Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm just killing some time until my books are priced. I checked out everything I wanted to and now I'm just wandering around."

"Really. So, none of these books over here interest you?"

"Nope. I have a very small mind."

"Well then, you've come to the right town!"

"I so did not just say that."

So, I move to a town thirty times larger and somebody still thinks it's a pathetic closed-minded hole. I'm a bit curious to see which parts of the world this woman thinks are true bastions of enlightenment. More likely, however, she is doomed, for her problems with humanity are a blessing she can take with her anywhere.

1. Does everyone in Starfleet really have all twenty million and one rules memorized or do they just hone in on the ones that let them stomp around like a facetious ass?
2. Speaking of asses, nobody in this universe seems to do anything with half of one. Sure would be a nice change of pace in ours, starting with my church's Powerpoint.
3. What is Hollywood going to do when it runs out of gritty origin stories? Gritty epilogues?
4. I can hardly remember the last time I met a hard core trekkie. Casual enthusiast trekkie, sure, but flaming Spock-eared monster? Not since middle school, at least.
5. The aforementioned does give me hope for the Narutards. Maybe there will come a day when I can go to a convention and not see one of those blasted Hot Topic Akatsuki.
6. The Romulans really have a thing against handrails.
7. James Kirk is Zapf Brannigan with pants.

Date:	2009-04-21 00:13
Subject:
Security:	Public
Mood:	accomplished
Music:	GO 60 GO - Takoyaki

After lifting and carrying all of my worldly possessions down two flights of stairs, I drove to the arcade and put up three new top scores on our local arrow stomping variant. I shall now proceed to wrestle alligators with my bare hands, and invent the cotton gin.

For all of us who have wished to be someone else, there is a time when the dream has died, but its words have not yet gone. I remember very clearly August 16, 1999. First day at college. I was lying awake, two feet from the ceiling in a room not five times as wide. I was marinating in my own sweat, and the stench of cow manure was so strong it turned the breeze into gray sludge. And yet the thought still echoed. This time will be different. I'll be the person I want to be. I won't take my old habits with me. I won't put off what must be done. I won't settle for mediocrity. I won't be alone.

But already I knew it wasn't true. I had followed myself there. I always did. I don't know how many times I did this. Every first was a chance for a new disappointment. And here I am on the greatest first of all. I'm building myself from the ground up. All expectations shattered. All lifelines cut. Whatever I am from this point is what I make it.

The stench of chicken manure seeps faintly through the walls. I am not ready for this.

Date:	2008-12-23 16:50
Subject:	Freedom! Horrible, Horrible Freedom!
Security:	Public
Mood:	determined
Music:	De Novo Dahl - Rhythm PhD.

Thanks to everyone who commented, phoned, spoke to me in person, or willed the positive energy of the universe in my direction using your hyper-developed thalamus. I arranged to work for my church until the end of January, at which point I will survive without the assistance of my meager vicar's salary. Precisely how I will go about this surviving I am not sure, but it will probably involve some sort of low-level wage slavery since I've spent the past nine years in school cultivating knowledge that most people would rather run screaming away from than pay for.

There is a long term plan of sorts. I should be able to salvage an M.A. from the remnants of my seminary education, which would pave the way for a Ph.D. and a lifetime of living in college towns telling people why they suck at thinking. Sarcasm aside, this does sound pretty awesome. I could write things and teach classes and probably live somewhere cool. See this job listing--this is pretty much exactly what I would want to do, where I would want to do it.

In the mean time it has been hinted that said M.A. may actually be sufficient to teach religion at a parochial school, which could theoretically happen as early as this fall. I certainly wouldn't want to teach children forever, but it would probably make getting that Ph.D. easier than waiting tables. I am so bad at waiting tables. Getting me to wait your table is like ordering your steak with a heaping dollop of stifling malaise. That and your steak will probably be burnt. Even though that's the chef's job. It'll be burnt because of my awesomely bad waiting skills. Set it on fire with MY MIND!!!!11!!!

Date:	2008-12-22 01:19
Subject:	Serious Business
Security:	Public
Mood:	determined
Music:	none

I have today and tomorrow to decide if I want to continue in ministry.

The reason for this is that my supervisors have raised serious questions about my ability to lead a church effectively. I've never had any significant leadership roles and don't show any particular aptitude for leadership. When it comes to church work, I've generally limited myself to the letter of the requirements rather than going beyond. And, I have little enthusiasm for people in general.

Those above me have been saying these things for quite some time now, and until now I'd seen them more as personal obstacles rather than insurmountable barriers to ministry. But, I'm beginning to think that even if they aren't completely prohibitive, they may be significant enough that the kingdom of God may be better served elsewhere.

For example, the leadership problem really coalesced for me this month, when I was asked to arrange a camp retreat for the junior youth. I was honored to have been entrusted with this task, but upon considering it quickly realized that I was the worst person for the job because I didn't believe in the concept. All I could remember were my own camp experiences--stressed out from school expecting a relaxing weekend only to be dragged to the middle of nowhere to learn things I already knew with kids I didn't even like. I was mortified that I would be inflicting this horror of my childhood on the next generation, yet completely incapable of shaping it into something more appealing.

And that seems to be the pattern with most of my work--doing things I don't consider particularly edifying in forced proximity to people I don't particularly enjoy, skittish about committing to their perpetuation yet unable to concoct an alternative. I always knew there would be a lot of this kind of baggage. I just expected it to be a part of the picture instead of most of the picture.

Despite these things, however, this is still a deliberation, and here's why. I don't have these alternatives mainly because I've never seen them. There was never a time when I was really on fire for my local congregation, but I stuck with them anyway because I believe it's important to worship with other Christians. I just took it for granted that the programs and worship styles were designed for the majority of people who just don't think and act like me, and that I would put up with it for their sake. But, I'm beginning to think that this majority might not be as much a fact of life as I once thought. What if it's less a reflection of our population than it is of the system we've created? Think, for example, what our congregations would look like if we didn't run our members through a screening process of wilderness camps and soft 90's alt rock. How many people have we already alienated because their aversion to our external trappings was greater than their commitment to public worship? I can't help but feel that there has to be a better way, and I want to have a part in finding it.

I should also mention that I haven't been doing a terrible job here. When it comes to "normal" church stuff, I'm actually pretty good. My sermons are well received. My Sunday School class is a riot. And I am particularly proud of my devotional newsletters. These things are all fun to do, and I wouldn't mind doing them for the rest of my life. They're just not nearly as big a part of ministry as I thought they were.

Tomorrow I'm going to have lunch with my supervisor. The details will most likely be worked out later, but I basically have to decide whether I want to keep trying to be a pastor or if I want to do something else entirely. So, I have that to decide, plus, if I choose the latter, what that something else might be. My supervisor suggested teaching religion at the college level. I'm taking that suggestion pretty seriously because it wouldn't require a complete reboot in my educational process and because guiding people through religious questions in an academic setting sounds like a ton of fun. I could also go with something more intrinsically enjoyable, like programming, though I specifically passed up that field to begin with because I wanted to do something spiritually rather than physically useful.

Or I could do something else entirely. I do have that degree in political science, though I have no idea what one actually does with such a thing in isolation. Starbucks, maybe?

So, that's what I have to work through today. Thanks for reading all of this; I know it's pretty long. Any comments are appreciated. Experience, advice, words of incredulity--I want it all.

Date:	2008-12-18 20:44
Subject:	The Pinnacle of Taste
Security:	Public
Mood:	bouncy
Music:	That's The Way (KCP Remix)

On the devolution of my musical taste: you know you've reached a new low when it turns out that cool techno song you forgot you had on your hard drive is actually a texted-to-speeched .wav file of the Small Catechism. Stephen Hawking reading the Ten Commandments? This is such an awesome intro! Oh wait, not an intro. Not a fluke, either, considering it was sandwiched between a horrible techno remix of Thus Spake Zarathustra and a horrible techno remix of the theme from Chariots of Fire. Seriously, why do I even have these things? It's like I went on an iTunes binge with a drunken robot. Come on, Pintsize! Daddy wants showtunes!

Date:	2008-12-13 21:53
Subject:	Good Alien, Bad Alien
Security:	Public
Mood:	refreshed
Music:	Smile.Dk - Come Chameleon

Living here in Arkansas, it has become increasingly clear that either one or both of us is insane. This first came to my attention when I made my first visit home and asked my mom why we didn't own any guns. I asked this because every single one of my co-workers had made it very clear that they see gun ownership as a matter of course in their households. Only crazy Californians don't own guns. Sane, responsible people keep multiple firearms in their homes and on their persons to facilitate their protection. Imagine my surprise when she expressed precisely the opposite view--that the absence of firearms in our house was necessary for my brothers and I to survive into puberty. What surprised me most wasn't that either party could hold the view they did, but that members of the same tiny church, living a mere state apart, who, as far as I know, consistently vote for the same political candidates, could have such vastly different assumptions about How The World Works.

Or consider my abortive attempts at auto maintenance this afternoon. Assuming two o'clock on a Saturday is a reasonable time to expect business hours from a service industry, I venture forth only to find that my regular shop has already closed its doors for the day. I'm not sure if there are blue laws or not but I've noticed that it's monstrously hard to get anything taken care of on the days when I actually have time to do it. Tennessee, despite its purported backwardness, offered me no such problems.

And then there was the awkwardness that resulted when I took matters into my own hands. Knowing that the car was almost out of oil, I purchased a few quarts of 10W-30 to keep the engine from locking up until I could get it serviced properly. While I was pouring them in a fellow in a truck yells "SHOULDA-BOUGHTA-CHEVY!" "Why?", I thought. "So I can look like a monstrous homo-gay?" Then it occurred to me that he most certainly thought I was the homo-gay. But then, that might not be a fair example, as my car is quite, well, festive. Okay, beyond festive. It is, in all times and universes, monstrously, homogeneously gay.

Perhaps there are a few universals, after all.

Date:	2008-11-13 13:56
Subject:	Need For Tweed
Security:	Public
Mood:	good

Even though I have one, I don't wear my vicar's collar very often. It's a little awkward, and most people don't understand it. "So you're not a priest?" "What's a 'victor?'" Nine times out of ten, plainclothes is the way to go.

Today, however, I visited the folks who actually understood it. The folks who were educated in the church in the 50s. So, I suited up and headed out the door.

Only to be challenged to a drag race.

At first I was flabbergasted. "Why do these kids want to race me? Can't they see I'm wearing my pastor clothes? Oh wait. Forgot about ridiculous car. Carry on, children who are not insane for reasons related to their choice in drag race opponents."

I also went to an anime convention. It was pretty awesome. I'll write more about it once I sort out my ten dozen pictures.

Date:	2008-11-04 17:25
Subject:	I Need a Bigger Army and a Case of Diet Coca-Cola
Security:	Public
Mood:	restless
Music:	Ponce de Leon - Snap Goes The Gator Jaw

As much as I rant about Republicans, it might surprise many of you to know that I voted for McCain. It's not because I'm overly fond of him. It's not even about his policies, for the most part.

The truth is, I'm still a single issue voter. The economy, the war, the environment--all of these things need good men to manage them, and in most cases I think Obama is that better man. But, I know that he will do nothing to address what matters most--the continued onslaught our country wages on the unborn. McCain has a very real chance of stopping this decades-long tragedy. Obama has vocally committed to perpetuating it. For that reason, and that reason alone, I voted for John McCain. Even though his campaign was inept. Even though his faith in big business rivals my own faith in the divine. Even though his militaristic grand-standing screams to my soul that he is so far removed from me and everything I care about, I voted for him. For this one thing.

Because really, what are all other things? Even if all the poor are comforted, if our streets are paved in gold, all diseases cured, all wars ended, the comfort rendered, even the lives saved, will not match those lost to abortion. This great sea of death, this stench that permeates our land--how did we become dead to it? Our benevolence is a sham. Our power is naught.

Talk all you want about your taxes. Thicker or thinner, we'll all get by. My mind is still on the great American genocide.