I have decided I prefer dark films to the average Hollywood feel-good films. The pre-wrapped romance deteriorates not only in credibility (if it ever had such a thing), but also in entertainment value after a while. Either that, or I have gotten jaded again. Being jaded against normal Hollywood films might be more of a blessing than a curse.
Instead, I have discovered European films, so far my film vocab consists of a Swedish film trilogy about a girl against basically everyone. Unfortunately, most of the characters have no stable morals, and none have Christian overtones. In that sense, it isn’t any better than Hollywood. But the difference comes in facing the harder parts of life instead of feeding viewers the lie of “everything will be alright for the hero”. Instead, the story sticks more to what stories can accomplish; telling the battle of the characters against the conflict. Films should not tell the entire story of a person. Life does not consist of little stories ending with “and they lived happily ever after”. Also, just because everything in a character’s life isn’t resolved by the ending shouldn’t automatically mean there will be a sequel. The Swedish films I have found so far fulfill this requirement.
However, this does not mean I wont enjoy some regular movies. I still enjoy my warm-fuzzy movies such as Die Hard or XXX. One just needs to see lots of action sometimes without worrying too much about the plot.
Also, I have been reading. Again. For anyone searching for a good novel, I encourage you to read Safely Home by Randy Alcorn. It has the best description of heaven I have ever seen, perhaps the best anywhere. Besides that, it illustrates Christian freedom and why the basic tenants of Christianity happen to truly change your thoughts and actions. I wont give away the storyline, but trust that few try to describe the larger picture. One author actually succeeds with this book. Read it.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Sunday, November 21, 2010
new orleans
My second view of new Orleans far outshined the first, since the first consisted of the underside of the city. For some reason little towns put the train station in a quaint little section of town. In cities it is in the worst part of town. But that may be just a post hoc situation. Also, New Orleans has little trollies which ferry people in circular routes adjacent with tourist spots.
I would call new Orleans a place of destruction and rebirth. Traces of destruction abound, either from hurricanes or the constant swampiness of the area. Or just hard use. They cant seem to make flat roads or sidewalks, but they constantly lay fresh concrete. Stone may not last here, but plants thrive. In fact, plants with replace brickwork if allowed. Saying a house has water damage is synonymous with saying its over 5 years old.
I heard some wonderful jazz. I also learned about the birth of jazz; it started in the red light district in the midst of prostitutes and bars. “jazz” is actually the shortened version of the name “music of jezebel”, jezebel at the time being the slang for prostitute. How odd that a musical genre started for accompanying prostitution has become the music of the elite music lovers. But that’s new Orleans. Out of a destructive practice comes new music.
I visited the French quarter. Amazing area. Wrought iron balconies overlook the streets from the second story. Sometimes you can glimpse the courtyard within the buildings. The profusion of certain stores seemed a bit odd. First; bars and nightclubs of various flavors (including the ones sporting porn in the windows), then the tourist shops, then art galleries, then voodoo stores. I kid you not. Unfortunately, most of them looked to be serious about their produce. Even more distressing was the fortune tellers in the pedestrian mall. For those of you who haven’t been there, the pedestrian mall is the small area between Jackson square and the st. Louis cathedral. Not 30 feet from the walls sit little tables draped with brightly colored cloths and adorned with crystal balls and tarot cards, etc. I got a picture of it. Kinda reminds me of something in the Bible. Maybe the part where Jesus goes on a rampage against the money changers in the temple.
In the tourist shops, along with the t-shirts and the beautiful masks, sat baskets of alligator heads. I assumed they were plastic till I picked one up. Its real. Hundreds of these little and not-so-little alligators heads sit for sale in all kinds of shops. I asked a local why they have so many. Its cuz the people eat alligators and save the heads to sell to tourists. Very odd.
Decadence. I never fully understood decadence till seeing new Orleans. Im sure there are places which display it even better. It seemed like if you had the money, you could get whatever you wanted and you didn’t have to hide it. The houses in the garden district stand among huge gardens full of exotic flowers, but the flowers do not overpower the house. The houses were mansions pretending to be understated. Thankfully they weren’t gaudy, rather gorgeous rather. Sadly I think the sights of the nightlife ruined my vision of extravagant beauty for a while.
I had the rare privilege of a personalized tour of the ninth ward where Katrina hit and most of the areas that were underwater. So many of the houses flooded still stand today, tho not in the ninth ward. I saw houses with red X’s and the date on the front. This was the symbol for no bodies inside on the date checked. On some houses which have been fixed, you can still find traces of the flooding. And every once in a while an empty lot sits between houses. I got to walk through one abandoned house. Plaster crumbled down from all over the house. In the ninth ward, only 2 houses still stand, both are brick. Everything else has been cleared. But you will find very modernistic energy efficient houses standing on stilts. These homes even rich Seattleites would proudly live in. the locals call these “the brad pitt homes” after their patron. Very unsettling sight to see artistic homes in the midst of recently cleared chaos. Catfish was welcome after that sight. Good food clears away unsettlingness.
I would call new Orleans a place of destruction and rebirth. Traces of destruction abound, either from hurricanes or the constant swampiness of the area. Or just hard use. They cant seem to make flat roads or sidewalks, but they constantly lay fresh concrete. Stone may not last here, but plants thrive. In fact, plants with replace brickwork if allowed. Saying a house has water damage is synonymous with saying its over 5 years old.
I heard some wonderful jazz. I also learned about the birth of jazz; it started in the red light district in the midst of prostitutes and bars. “jazz” is actually the shortened version of the name “music of jezebel”, jezebel at the time being the slang for prostitute. How odd that a musical genre started for accompanying prostitution has become the music of the elite music lovers. But that’s new Orleans. Out of a destructive practice comes new music.
I visited the French quarter. Amazing area. Wrought iron balconies overlook the streets from the second story. Sometimes you can glimpse the courtyard within the buildings. The profusion of certain stores seemed a bit odd. First; bars and nightclubs of various flavors (including the ones sporting porn in the windows), then the tourist shops, then art galleries, then voodoo stores. I kid you not. Unfortunately, most of them looked to be serious about their produce. Even more distressing was the fortune tellers in the pedestrian mall. For those of you who haven’t been there, the pedestrian mall is the small area between Jackson square and the st. Louis cathedral. Not 30 feet from the walls sit little tables draped with brightly colored cloths and adorned with crystal balls and tarot cards, etc. I got a picture of it. Kinda reminds me of something in the Bible. Maybe the part where Jesus goes on a rampage against the money changers in the temple.
In the tourist shops, along with the t-shirts and the beautiful masks, sat baskets of alligator heads. I assumed they were plastic till I picked one up. Its real. Hundreds of these little and not-so-little alligators heads sit for sale in all kinds of shops. I asked a local why they have so many. Its cuz the people eat alligators and save the heads to sell to tourists. Very odd.
Decadence. I never fully understood decadence till seeing new Orleans. Im sure there are places which display it even better. It seemed like if you had the money, you could get whatever you wanted and you didn’t have to hide it. The houses in the garden district stand among huge gardens full of exotic flowers, but the flowers do not overpower the house. The houses were mansions pretending to be understated. Thankfully they weren’t gaudy, rather gorgeous rather. Sadly I think the sights of the nightlife ruined my vision of extravagant beauty for a while.
I had the rare privilege of a personalized tour of the ninth ward where Katrina hit and most of the areas that were underwater. So many of the houses flooded still stand today, tho not in the ninth ward. I saw houses with red X’s and the date on the front. This was the symbol for no bodies inside on the date checked. On some houses which have been fixed, you can still find traces of the flooding. And every once in a while an empty lot sits between houses. I got to walk through one abandoned house. Plaster crumbled down from all over the house. In the ninth ward, only 2 houses still stand, both are brick. Everything else has been cleared. But you will find very modernistic energy efficient houses standing on stilts. These homes even rich Seattleites would proudly live in. the locals call these “the brad pitt homes” after their patron. Very unsettling sight to see artistic homes in the midst of recently cleared chaos. Catfish was welcome after that sight. Good food clears away unsettlingness.
new orleans night life
Ever wonder where my generation has gone? I have wondered sometimes. We are like a generation of misfits who chose the migratory patterns of life for the foreseeable future. Most of the gypsy people and the bohemians I see are my age (or they are disagreeably old). Well, I found my generation. I wasn’t really looking for them, but I found them anyways. They travel constantly, searching for whatever they want, growing no roots, settling on nothing but constantly experiencing whatever they can.
I have been staying at a hostel in new Orleans with people from all over. It occurred to me finally that this is where we have gone. A generation of constant transition. I listened to the others sitting on the porch smoking something, teaching the recent additions about the sanctity of their smoke. I began to wonder if it was more than just weed. I concentrated on my pancakes as I listened to a girl laughingly convince her boyfriend to wait to have sex till she was done with the dishes and back in their room.
When I say transition, I mean more than just physically, or career-wise although that is a huge part of it. We either work at random jobs trying to decide on a career as our interests change, or we return to school because we obviously haven’t learned enough to make up our mind about life yet. But the lack of permanence runs all the way to our foundations. We have minimal permanent ethics, if any.
Now that I have discovered that bit of info, the next logical question is why we don’t have permanent ethics and if this is more so than other generations. I would love to consider my generation special, although this is hardly a specialty I can congratulate. Why is it so rare to hold fundamental Christian morals? It’s not like they even consider something sinful “wrong” cuz it is so common. These sins are not new, for there is nothing new under the sun. I only wonder why people don’t consider it wrong anymore.
I had decided not to walk around here at night. But tonight I got the urge to go find some good jazz. I did find some, it was amazing. It took a while to tear myself away from the sound. No music quite like good jazz. But on the same streets as the good jazz were every sort of bar. This is a weekday evening nowhere near mardi gras and I still wanted to vomit after seeing some of the night life here. Alchohol, music, dancing, prostitutes, more alchy, porn, strippers, weed, probably stronger drugs, everything. Sadly, most people seemed to be enjoying themselves. I even saw a young teen, walking thru with her family, looking a bit stunned. Possibly the worst bit, as I consider it, is the practice of having girls/women perform for the public. Sex or showing off for one’s own enjoyment or for that of your love is one thing. But selling that part of you, whether it is actual sex or just exhibiting, destroys something in a person. It is never worth the money, but I doubt most of those girls ever heard that before they enter the work. Surely they could choose some other work, or depend on someone else? Do they even have a choice or has that been taken away somehow?
Oh, and in the middle of it all, I found a few Christians standing around a cross in the middle of the street reading from the bible. They seemed like newer converts, easily blending in physically but for the matching churchy t-shirts. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but they earned a wide berth from the passer-bys. Im pretty sure their crusade failed before it really began.
Everyone there asked me, “isn’t new Orleans awesome?” I vote no. Not everything is terrible, but it seems like the negatives outweigh the positives, even café du monde with its amazing coffee.
I have been staying at a hostel in new Orleans with people from all over. It occurred to me finally that this is where we have gone. A generation of constant transition. I listened to the others sitting on the porch smoking something, teaching the recent additions about the sanctity of their smoke. I began to wonder if it was more than just weed. I concentrated on my pancakes as I listened to a girl laughingly convince her boyfriend to wait to have sex till she was done with the dishes and back in their room.
When I say transition, I mean more than just physically, or career-wise although that is a huge part of it. We either work at random jobs trying to decide on a career as our interests change, or we return to school because we obviously haven’t learned enough to make up our mind about life yet. But the lack of permanence runs all the way to our foundations. We have minimal permanent ethics, if any.
Now that I have discovered that bit of info, the next logical question is why we don’t have permanent ethics and if this is more so than other generations. I would love to consider my generation special, although this is hardly a specialty I can congratulate. Why is it so rare to hold fundamental Christian morals? It’s not like they even consider something sinful “wrong” cuz it is so common. These sins are not new, for there is nothing new under the sun. I only wonder why people don’t consider it wrong anymore.
I had decided not to walk around here at night. But tonight I got the urge to go find some good jazz. I did find some, it was amazing. It took a while to tear myself away from the sound. No music quite like good jazz. But on the same streets as the good jazz were every sort of bar. This is a weekday evening nowhere near mardi gras and I still wanted to vomit after seeing some of the night life here. Alchohol, music, dancing, prostitutes, more alchy, porn, strippers, weed, probably stronger drugs, everything. Sadly, most people seemed to be enjoying themselves. I even saw a young teen, walking thru with her family, looking a bit stunned. Possibly the worst bit, as I consider it, is the practice of having girls/women perform for the public. Sex or showing off for one’s own enjoyment or for that of your love is one thing. But selling that part of you, whether it is actual sex or just exhibiting, destroys something in a person. It is never worth the money, but I doubt most of those girls ever heard that before they enter the work. Surely they could choose some other work, or depend on someone else? Do they even have a choice or has that been taken away somehow?
Oh, and in the middle of it all, I found a few Christians standing around a cross in the middle of the street reading from the bible. They seemed like newer converts, easily blending in physically but for the matching churchy t-shirts. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but they earned a wide berth from the passer-bys. Im pretty sure their crusade failed before it really began.
Everyone there asked me, “isn’t new Orleans awesome?” I vote no. Not everything is terrible, but it seems like the negatives outweigh the positives, even café du monde with its amazing coffee.
florida
I have never been to florida. Never even been south of DC really. So when I awoke on the train to florida greenery, I felt as though I had stepped into another country. They have palm trees growing naturally under pine trees and none of their trees change color for the fall. Also, Spanish moss drips from most trees. Someone on the train said that was mistletoe and I wondered that anyone went anywhere without kissing under all the mistletoe. But then Ashley corrected my knowledge naming that stuff Spanish moss and the world made sense again.
Florida feels different and it isn’t the weather. Tropical beauty sits everywhere, taken for granted by most as they tour the tourist attractions. I did not go to many of these except the Disney village. Stores full of tempting things, artwork, build your own miniature car, etc. not including any kind of food you want. They have dinosaurs and sea dragons built of legos. On top of the arch of one building, they have a stitch that spits water at unsuspecting passer-bys. I am not a big Disney fan, I can’t even name half the characters I saw there, nor can I find the hidden Disney symbols; I’m too busy looking at the basic attractions. And that is ok with me.
Southern hospitality lives up to its reputation. Helpful, thinking of everything without hanging over my shoulder. Lots of excellent food when we ate in. Excellent food that I couldn’t get elsewhere when we ate out. They almost had an issue when they found me eating cereal. But that’s what I wanted. Sometimes cereal is the only thing which fits my hunger.
I couldn’t believe I was actually sitting with Ashley once again. I haven’t seen her since college and that’s the only place I ever saw her. a person in their home looks so different than college. More relaxed, less harried. I think I stared for a while seeing her so relaxed and professional looking. Makeup and nice clothes are a far cry from bed-head and hoodies. And her family got to finally see who I was. As I talked I watched them connect dots of stories they had heard from Ashley with my face. Oh, so you are the one who tried to kick her… you are her tutor…. Eventually we realized that all of us were on our best behavior.
I went line dancing at a country bar. I told my friend I would go as long as I had beer in my system quickly. Actually, line dancing is kinda fun. The only downside is the country music. I don’t mind country setting, country people (too much), or the clothing (sometimes), but I don’t like country music. Sometimes the lyrics make it bearable, but most of the time just annoying. But line dancing is actually fun. Besides, everything becomes a bit more tolerable when approached with a beer. No, I did not get drunk. I did ride the mechanical bull, and I actually stayed on over 8 seconds.
If you have the option, def go to st. Augustine, the oldest constantly inhabited town in the Americas. The atmosphere alone makes it worth the trip. The day I went they had a pirate get together, so we walked thru that. I have never seen so many jack sparrows in one town. They seemed to be everywhere.
We went to see the manatees in their spring. A deep spring feeds a decent sized river with incredibly clear water. Manatees themselves look like miniature whales or giant seals at a glance. But they have funny noses. They live up to their name of sea cows by floating for a bit, then moseying out to eat for a while, then moseying back in. I went swimming in the river over to the spring and looked down. Huge crevasses open up about 15 feet below the surface. Pretty amazing. Also amazing to swim with the current; I didn’t know I could swim that fast without moving much of anything. We went to say goodbye to the manatees and saw a turtle. And then we saw a large alligator climb up out of the water (with trouble of course) onto a log to sun itself. A lot of very exotic animals call florida home. At least, they are exotic to me.
Then we went to the ocean beach. The huge waves called to me, I had to go tumble in the surf. Its kinda hard to swim in the surf, but fighting and rolling in the waves I could do. In fact I love it. Walk out a bit till the surfs hit your face, plant yourself while the wave gathers water to itself. Watch as it rises to meet you, forming a white crest on top. Decide how you will meet this wave. Dive in head first? Swim with it? Let it crash into you? Jump over it? Make sure that you dive under the surf, not directly into it. Otherwise you invite the headache afterwards. My favorite is diving under one wave and feeling another roll over while still under the surface. Waves, unlike life, usually give you a short respite to clear your eyes and get your bearings again. If you fully tumble with the waves, expect to have to find the ground and the direction of the shore. At some point, you can just ride the waves back into shore. Then look down as you walk out of the waves; the water recedes much faster than your steps, making it seem like you fly but for the solid ground beneath each step. I could have sworn the ground ran towards the ocean in those seconds.
Florida feels different and it isn’t the weather. Tropical beauty sits everywhere, taken for granted by most as they tour the tourist attractions. I did not go to many of these except the Disney village. Stores full of tempting things, artwork, build your own miniature car, etc. not including any kind of food you want. They have dinosaurs and sea dragons built of legos. On top of the arch of one building, they have a stitch that spits water at unsuspecting passer-bys. I am not a big Disney fan, I can’t even name half the characters I saw there, nor can I find the hidden Disney symbols; I’m too busy looking at the basic attractions. And that is ok with me.
Southern hospitality lives up to its reputation. Helpful, thinking of everything without hanging over my shoulder. Lots of excellent food when we ate in. Excellent food that I couldn’t get elsewhere when we ate out. They almost had an issue when they found me eating cereal. But that’s what I wanted. Sometimes cereal is the only thing which fits my hunger.
I couldn’t believe I was actually sitting with Ashley once again. I haven’t seen her since college and that’s the only place I ever saw her. a person in their home looks so different than college. More relaxed, less harried. I think I stared for a while seeing her so relaxed and professional looking. Makeup and nice clothes are a far cry from bed-head and hoodies. And her family got to finally see who I was. As I talked I watched them connect dots of stories they had heard from Ashley with my face. Oh, so you are the one who tried to kick her… you are her tutor…. Eventually we realized that all of us were on our best behavior.
I went line dancing at a country bar. I told my friend I would go as long as I had beer in my system quickly. Actually, line dancing is kinda fun. The only downside is the country music. I don’t mind country setting, country people (too much), or the clothing (sometimes), but I don’t like country music. Sometimes the lyrics make it bearable, but most of the time just annoying. But line dancing is actually fun. Besides, everything becomes a bit more tolerable when approached with a beer. No, I did not get drunk. I did ride the mechanical bull, and I actually stayed on over 8 seconds.
If you have the option, def go to st. Augustine, the oldest constantly inhabited town in the Americas. The atmosphere alone makes it worth the trip. The day I went they had a pirate get together, so we walked thru that. I have never seen so many jack sparrows in one town. They seemed to be everywhere.
We went to see the manatees in their spring. A deep spring feeds a decent sized river with incredibly clear water. Manatees themselves look like miniature whales or giant seals at a glance. But they have funny noses. They live up to their name of sea cows by floating for a bit, then moseying out to eat for a while, then moseying back in. I went swimming in the river over to the spring and looked down. Huge crevasses open up about 15 feet below the surface. Pretty amazing. Also amazing to swim with the current; I didn’t know I could swim that fast without moving much of anything. We went to say goodbye to the manatees and saw a turtle. And then we saw a large alligator climb up out of the water (with trouble of course) onto a log to sun itself. A lot of very exotic animals call florida home. At least, they are exotic to me.
Then we went to the ocean beach. The huge waves called to me, I had to go tumble in the surf. Its kinda hard to swim in the surf, but fighting and rolling in the waves I could do. In fact I love it. Walk out a bit till the surfs hit your face, plant yourself while the wave gathers water to itself. Watch as it rises to meet you, forming a white crest on top. Decide how you will meet this wave. Dive in head first? Swim with it? Let it crash into you? Jump over it? Make sure that you dive under the surf, not directly into it. Otherwise you invite the headache afterwards. My favorite is diving under one wave and feeling another roll over while still under the surface. Waves, unlike life, usually give you a short respite to clear your eyes and get your bearings again. If you fully tumble with the waves, expect to have to find the ground and the direction of the shore. At some point, you can just ride the waves back into shore. Then look down as you walk out of the waves; the water recedes much faster than your steps, making it seem like you fly but for the solid ground beneath each step. I could have sworn the ground ran towards the ocean in those seconds.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
metro
Do you have that one thing which everytime you have to do it, panic rises in your chest? If you are one of the few lucky ones, you can avoid that experience as much as possible. I have found that experience that I would rather not have ever again.
The metro/subway is and invention of mechanical genius. Everything is underground in the city. You stand on the escalator which descends inexorably into a hole in the ground. Look back at the cement ceiling rising above you. I wonder at the feat of engineering it must have taken to build these structures underneath old buildings. Small ports open to the upper world. Otherwise, everything happens underground. They have helpful machines full of information for lost 1st-timers. Signs point your way constantly in case you get mixed up, which you will. Escalators take you from one level of the station to another. Walls round out to form a ceiling 50 feet above the platform. The trains sweep through, open doors, close, and keep going. Signs along the platform tell the people in the train what station they have arrived at before it is too late to exit the train.
Even the cars of the train have maps in case you are confused. Its incredibly user friendly. And yet, after all is said and done, it’s a giant mechanical worm which sucks you in thru its gills and takes you to your destination. Thankyou industrial revolution or whichever revolution gave us this contraption.
The metro/subway is and invention of mechanical genius. Everything is underground in the city. You stand on the escalator which descends inexorably into a hole in the ground. Look back at the cement ceiling rising above you. I wonder at the feat of engineering it must have taken to build these structures underneath old buildings. Small ports open to the upper world. Otherwise, everything happens underground. They have helpful machines full of information for lost 1st-timers. Signs point your way constantly in case you get mixed up, which you will. Escalators take you from one level of the station to another. Walls round out to form a ceiling 50 feet above the platform. The trains sweep through, open doors, close, and keep going. Signs along the platform tell the people in the train what station they have arrived at before it is too late to exit the train.
Even the cars of the train have maps in case you are confused. Its incredibly user friendly. And yet, after all is said and done, it’s a giant mechanical worm which sucks you in thru its gills and takes you to your destination. Thankyou industrial revolution or whichever revolution gave us this contraption.
two sides of a city.
Most who have not lived in a city see only one side or another of city life. A city can be beautiful, a life lived in it worth every second, every penny. The architecture of quaint row houses, or old buildings set an atmosphere of solidity and vitality. The message is to have a good time with friends, speak of life over good food and a good beer. This atmosphere reenergizes a person for the road ahead. People walk most places because they can. One may pass several days in such a place and not even realize the passage of time. But that’s ok, that’s the point; living life without focusing on living it.
There sits another side of the city. The buildings bring no joy in their visage. They speak of people just barely getting through the day. You expect to see people up during the night wishing to sleep, up over nothing much. The never extinguished lights and the sounds of traffic perpetuate a feeling of struggle long after you reach home from work. Stores yell at you to buy buy buy. You aren’t happy, here, this will make it better. You own a car if you have the money cuz only the poor people walk anywhere. This is the dirty city most people bring up when they say they hate “the city”.
I sit in a mall clinging by its fingernails. Everything is clean, neat, orderly, empty. Clerks chat with each other as they eye the potential customers pass by. Many stores have given up; neat sheets of paper cover the windows. Everything waits for the hoards of mall-goers who used to fill this place. But they don’t come. Pitiful. A few children play on a mat called “the woodland”. It has a few sculptured stumps and logs to play around. Is playing outside so foreign now that they recreate a semblance of it for children?
Most prefer to live in the beautiful side of the city. Wouldn’t you? Hence it is more expensive. I would suggest that it’s worth it. Worth it to focus on people and company instead of cars and things. Worth it to make your home in a place that breeds peace instead of depression. At the very least, make your home a tiny lagoon in the midst of caves. But beware; only the very strongest of spirit can succeed in that. Whatever surrounds you will affect you.
There sits another side of the city. The buildings bring no joy in their visage. They speak of people just barely getting through the day. You expect to see people up during the night wishing to sleep, up over nothing much. The never extinguished lights and the sounds of traffic perpetuate a feeling of struggle long after you reach home from work. Stores yell at you to buy buy buy. You aren’t happy, here, this will make it better. You own a car if you have the money cuz only the poor people walk anywhere. This is the dirty city most people bring up when they say they hate “the city”.
I sit in a mall clinging by its fingernails. Everything is clean, neat, orderly, empty. Clerks chat with each other as they eye the potential customers pass by. Many stores have given up; neat sheets of paper cover the windows. Everything waits for the hoards of mall-goers who used to fill this place. But they don’t come. Pitiful. A few children play on a mat called “the woodland”. It has a few sculptured stumps and logs to play around. Is playing outside so foreign now that they recreate a semblance of it for children?
Most prefer to live in the beautiful side of the city. Wouldn’t you? Hence it is more expensive. I would suggest that it’s worth it. Worth it to focus on people and company instead of cars and things. Worth it to make your home in a place that breeds peace instead of depression. At the very least, make your home a tiny lagoon in the midst of caves. But beware; only the very strongest of spirit can succeed in that. Whatever surrounds you will affect you.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
scenery
I have discussed the train aspect of the train rides, but I never mentioned the rest of that experience. Most of it lies in the sights. For much of the first 24 hours, the train followed a wide river, clear to its depths. There is nothing quite like a mountain river. It clarifies the rocks and trees and colors around it. It makes the difference between an impressionistic painting and a realist painting. A meadow is nothing. A meadow with children and animals skipping through it is everything. Imagine a high rocky mountain. Now add swaths of evergreen trees and groups of birches turning yellow. It is beautiful, yes? Now add a wide stream skipping through the scene, carving out rocks and swimming though trees. The scene becomes breathtaking.
And then came the plains, flat and brown for hours on end. Sometimes a different landmass piques the interest, but most often not. The most notable thing perhaps was the coyote I saw talking with a raven. The raven hovered by the coyote, almost touching beak to nose. I understand how some writers animate the animals in their stories.
Then back to fall colors and quaint towns nestled in among the hills of Minnesota and Wisconsin. The land of many lakes (Minnesota) lived up to its name. it seemed like every time I looked out the window we passed another little lake, some hardly bigger than a pond. Also, the train stations switched to historic looking little depots, the kind a town passes ordinances protecting on the strength of its historical significance.
When arriving at a large city by train, you arrive by tunnel. So my first view of Chicago was of the dark underside. There is a reason people rush up and out from a train. Even through the fatigue, everyone wants to get out and see the upside of the city.
And then came the plains, flat and brown for hours on end. Sometimes a different landmass piques the interest, but most often not. The most notable thing perhaps was the coyote I saw talking with a raven. The raven hovered by the coyote, almost touching beak to nose. I understand how some writers animate the animals in their stories.
Then back to fall colors and quaint towns nestled in among the hills of Minnesota and Wisconsin. The land of many lakes (Minnesota) lived up to its name. it seemed like every time I looked out the window we passed another little lake, some hardly bigger than a pond. Also, the train stations switched to historic looking little depots, the kind a town passes ordinances protecting on the strength of its historical significance.
When arriving at a large city by train, you arrive by tunnel. So my first view of Chicago was of the dark underside. There is a reason people rush up and out from a train. Even through the fatigue, everyone wants to get out and see the upside of the city.
michigan
How strange it is to visit a place you lived while in a different mindset. I visited my college in MI to see friends there. Somehow some of the kids I used to watch in my church group growing up are now freshmen at my old college. Small world, aint it? I also got to see my old boss and profs and other friends still there.
This is what I found; the happiness I saw then was but a fraction of the joy I have now. The darkness I lived under seemed dark compared to what I saw others having. But now I know how little joy I had seen by the time I left college. It’s like lying under a rock watching others live in the forest where the light seems so much brighter. But the shadows of the forest do not compare with the sunlight on the mountaintops.
My respect for professors grew with the understanding that they choose to endure the tension of that college for the hope that others would treasure the learning they teach freely. I do now, but I didn’t while I attended there. I received the building blocks while there, but never understood what they signified until I had left college behind. Then one day it clicked. One day I started living the life saved for me. As I looked back at the place I spent the years previous to that realization, I finally understood the magnitude of the darkness I still lived under after becoming a Christian.
And so I visited with my peeps and let my joy show and hoped this helped instead of hurt. I wanted to tell them of joy, of life, of adventure, and the One who had given everything to me. I wanted to take the heaviness I saw away from them. But it is not to be. So I tried my best to lighten the weight for a bit with my stories and good humor. I find that this is one of the most necessary and yet hardest acts to accomplish. To put aside what you see and call up what you have seen for the benefit of those you care for. Oh how I wish I could zap them instantly with joy. But that is neither my place nor how it works. A person must work out their own path to joy, not follow someone else’s steps. Something is not worth having if it is not worth gaining through troubles and strife. A belief is not worth holding if it is not worth dying for.
This is what I found; the happiness I saw then was but a fraction of the joy I have now. The darkness I lived under seemed dark compared to what I saw others having. But now I know how little joy I had seen by the time I left college. It’s like lying under a rock watching others live in the forest where the light seems so much brighter. But the shadows of the forest do not compare with the sunlight on the mountaintops.
My respect for professors grew with the understanding that they choose to endure the tension of that college for the hope that others would treasure the learning they teach freely. I do now, but I didn’t while I attended there. I received the building blocks while there, but never understood what they signified until I had left college behind. Then one day it clicked. One day I started living the life saved for me. As I looked back at the place I spent the years previous to that realization, I finally understood the magnitude of the darkness I still lived under after becoming a Christian.
And so I visited with my peeps and let my joy show and hoped this helped instead of hurt. I wanted to tell them of joy, of life, of adventure, and the One who had given everything to me. I wanted to take the heaviness I saw away from them. But it is not to be. So I tried my best to lighten the weight for a bit with my stories and good humor. I find that this is one of the most necessary and yet hardest acts to accomplish. To put aside what you see and call up what you have seen for the benefit of those you care for. Oh how I wish I could zap them instantly with joy. But that is neither my place nor how it works. A person must work out their own path to joy, not follow someone else’s steps. Something is not worth having if it is not worth gaining through troubles and strife. A belief is not worth holding if it is not worth dying for.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
unexpected stop in chicago
I didn’t know trains could be 4 hours late. But apparently they can. Over the 2 days I spent on my first train trip, we added 4 hours to our travel time. Something about having to wait during the night for freight trains to pass so we could use the track. Other rumors flew about suggesting recent derailments and subsequent repairs. Another suggested that the recent expanding oil drilling in N Dakota requires more freight trains. At any rate, my train arrived in Chicago late.
We found out Thursday evening that it would be late. So I started thinking of alternative plans in case I missed my connection to Jackson, MI. it is hard to coordinate a plan with no internet and few areas of cell coverage. So my family basically took over and arranged for me to stay with my “little” cousin Russell in Chicago area. Amtrak had arranged to send people on buses to their destinations along the train routes. That meant I would get into Jackson at 2:30 am. I opted to stay the night in Chicago and catch the next train. I caught Jemie as she was leaving to pick me up at the station and told her I would be coming in the next day at lunchtime.
I like my cousin. He introduced me to his click; I stayed with the female portion in their apartment. It’s a bit odd being in a college group again. Even odder hanging out with a group of fun-loving kids who aren’t old enough to drink. A fun bunch none the less.
The next morning the train to get back to union station left at 6am. So I got up and walked down to the little station with Russell. And there we sat. Suddenly Russell gets up to check something. Its Saturday. The train doesn’t come at 6am on Saturdays. …ok. Back to the computer for other options. Try to call a cab. That wont get me to the station in time either. Awesome. Plan C; wake up roomie with a car and possibly still not get there, or… go have breakfast and catch the next train. We had breakfast at a wonderful little place where everything on the menu looked wonderful.
We walked around Chicago looking at architecture and exploring the park with its strange art structures. The creepiest one was a tall wall made of glass bricks. It had a face projected onto it making faces at the identical wall across the square. Creepy. I cant even describe the other art things they had there. Chicago has beautiful architecture. In a city that has no natural beauty, something must make its residents proud to call it home. Chicago has chosen architecture to perform this function. Each building looks unique with its own theme. The sears’ building soars into the sky, a small city unto itself with several towers surrounding the core tower. However, my favorite building was actually the library. It may not be tall or expensive looking, but no less imposing. A huge cube of a building with tall windows. I think I might try to see old libraries from now on. Much more interesting than modern structural art.
We found out Thursday evening that it would be late. So I started thinking of alternative plans in case I missed my connection to Jackson, MI. it is hard to coordinate a plan with no internet and few areas of cell coverage. So my family basically took over and arranged for me to stay with my “little” cousin Russell in Chicago area. Amtrak had arranged to send people on buses to their destinations along the train routes. That meant I would get into Jackson at 2:30 am. I opted to stay the night in Chicago and catch the next train. I caught Jemie as she was leaving to pick me up at the station and told her I would be coming in the next day at lunchtime.
I like my cousin. He introduced me to his click; I stayed with the female portion in their apartment. It’s a bit odd being in a college group again. Even odder hanging out with a group of fun-loving kids who aren’t old enough to drink. A fun bunch none the less.
The next morning the train to get back to union station left at 6am. So I got up and walked down to the little station with Russell. And there we sat. Suddenly Russell gets up to check something. Its Saturday. The train doesn’t come at 6am on Saturdays. …ok. Back to the computer for other options. Try to call a cab. That wont get me to the station in time either. Awesome. Plan C; wake up roomie with a car and possibly still not get there, or… go have breakfast and catch the next train. We had breakfast at a wonderful little place where everything on the menu looked wonderful.
We walked around Chicago looking at architecture and exploring the park with its strange art structures. The creepiest one was a tall wall made of glass bricks. It had a face projected onto it making faces at the identical wall across the square. Creepy. I cant even describe the other art things they had there. Chicago has beautiful architecture. In a city that has no natural beauty, something must make its residents proud to call it home. Chicago has chosen architecture to perform this function. Each building looks unique with its own theme. The sears’ building soars into the sky, a small city unto itself with several towers surrounding the core tower. However, my favorite building was actually the library. It may not be tall or expensive looking, but no less imposing. A huge cube of a building with tall windows. I think I might try to see old libraries from now on. Much more interesting than modern structural art.
1st time on a train
Taking a train is not similar to taking a plane, and yet it is. The security is minimal so far as I have seen. (except for the green-uniformed border patrol guards who searched my train for illegal aliens. They actually found a few.) If you have the fortune of having two seats to yourself like I did, you end up with about 4 times as much room as a plane seat. They have the same little tray table things, but the seat backs recline much farther and they have a foot rest like a recliner. I am describing the coach seating of course. I have no idea what kind of accommodations the rooms have. Passengers may opt for a sit down meal at meal times, or just snack on food from the lounge car. They sell cheeseburgers and beer also.
I didn’t know if I would have internet on the train. I didn’t have internet. Once or twice I grabbed a wifi while we stopped at a station. Remember that we rarely stayed at a station for longer than 3 minutes. That sums up the internet. Cell coverage consisted of the areas around the towns or cities we passed. Spotty at best.
The most different part on a train is the smoke stops. Most of the stations the train stops long enough to exchange passengers. But sometimes the train stops for a longer time and the passengers may exit and get some fresh air, or some smoky air, whichever they prefer. Sometimes I miss smoking when I see others talking and smoking. The habit is a social habit primarily, consisting of built in ice-breakers and conversation topics. It elicits instant camaraderie among those “needing a smoke”.
Walking on a train takes effort and balance, much like walking on a boat. However, instead of the rolling of a boat in the water, this is the swaying of a large machine attached to rails. Sometimes you may hear some creaking as the train takes a harder turn than normal and a lot of wait shifts to the other side of the car. I finally got my train legs the second day.
I didn’t know if I would have internet on the train. I didn’t have internet. Once or twice I grabbed a wifi while we stopped at a station. Remember that we rarely stayed at a station for longer than 3 minutes. That sums up the internet. Cell coverage consisted of the areas around the towns or cities we passed. Spotty at best.
The most different part on a train is the smoke stops. Most of the stations the train stops long enough to exchange passengers. But sometimes the train stops for a longer time and the passengers may exit and get some fresh air, or some smoky air, whichever they prefer. Sometimes I miss smoking when I see others talking and smoking. The habit is a social habit primarily, consisting of built in ice-breakers and conversation topics. It elicits instant camaraderie among those “needing a smoke”.
Walking on a train takes effort and balance, much like walking on a boat. However, instead of the rolling of a boat in the water, this is the swaying of a large machine attached to rails. Sometimes you may hear some creaking as the train takes a harder turn than normal and a lot of wait shifts to the other side of the car. I finally got my train legs the second day.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
adventure before i actually leave
I have never ridden a train before. Little trains in eastern cities yes, but never for a long trip like this. It isn’t the same at all. I found out that I could buy a rail pass at Amtrak. So after asking various friends around the country if I could visit, I bought a rail pass. Do you have any idea how hard it is to mesh schedules with people all around the country? Its hard. I played the first segment by ear, but I realize I need to work out the kinks in the rest of my schedule asap.
And in keeping with my fast growing habit, I didn’t give myself much warning in leaving. That, and I wanted to visit my friend in the Portland hospital one more time. I figured out I should leave on Wednesday, on Sunday. So guess what I did? I laid out my stuff on Tuesday morning for my train trip, then drove down to Portland, saw my friend, stayed at a hostel, saw my friend again, then drove back up to seattle area the next morning. The plan was to stop at my parents’ house, finish packing, eat something, say goodbye, then drive up to the train in Everett. That was the plan.
What actually happened on my drive back up is this; my alternator bearings wore out. Driving near Tacoma, the little noise I had heard earlier got worse, and I started to smell a burning rubber smell. Never a good situation in a car. So I called dad to ask if he had any ideas as to what was wrong with my car. We decided that I would stop and take a closer look. So I pulled off at an exit and opened the hood. As I talked with dad about the car, I watched the smoke grow. I mentioned I had seen a car parts store across the freeway. I decided to drive over there (crossing my fingers that the car would actually make it), and replace the alternator. So I did. The majority of the time spent changing the alternator was the woman behind the counter looking for some tools I could borrow. The first time she disappeared to the back, she returned in about 5 mins with some sockets and a ratchet. Good, I grab them, run to the car, find the correct size socket, and try to attach the ratchet. Clink. Try again. Clink. Take off the socket and look at it. It’s a ¼ while the ratchet is a 3/8. Gah. So I go back in and explain to the woman who disappears into the back again, this time for 15 mins. I pace the front area, glaring at people staring at my greasy hands. Finally she returns with an all ¼ set. I rush back out and change the alternator, pay for the thing, return the tools and take off towards Bothell. Oh, and I hit rush hour traffic.
So I got home an hour before my train left. I ran in, washed greasy hands, changed, apologized and thanked mom and dad as they put baskets of my stuff into the car so I could pack on the way. I wouldn’t suggest this method for leaving on a 6-week journey, but I did make the train. There wasn’t any security at the train station to slow me. I even got to wave at my mom as the train pulled away. Awesome feeling.
And in keeping with my fast growing habit, I didn’t give myself much warning in leaving. That, and I wanted to visit my friend in the Portland hospital one more time. I figured out I should leave on Wednesday, on Sunday. So guess what I did? I laid out my stuff on Tuesday morning for my train trip, then drove down to Portland, saw my friend, stayed at a hostel, saw my friend again, then drove back up to seattle area the next morning. The plan was to stop at my parents’ house, finish packing, eat something, say goodbye, then drive up to the train in Everett. That was the plan.
What actually happened on my drive back up is this; my alternator bearings wore out. Driving near Tacoma, the little noise I had heard earlier got worse, and I started to smell a burning rubber smell. Never a good situation in a car. So I called dad to ask if he had any ideas as to what was wrong with my car. We decided that I would stop and take a closer look. So I pulled off at an exit and opened the hood. As I talked with dad about the car, I watched the smoke grow. I mentioned I had seen a car parts store across the freeway. I decided to drive over there (crossing my fingers that the car would actually make it), and replace the alternator. So I did. The majority of the time spent changing the alternator was the woman behind the counter looking for some tools I could borrow. The first time she disappeared to the back, she returned in about 5 mins with some sockets and a ratchet. Good, I grab them, run to the car, find the correct size socket, and try to attach the ratchet. Clink. Try again. Clink. Take off the socket and look at it. It’s a ¼ while the ratchet is a 3/8. Gah. So I go back in and explain to the woman who disappears into the back again, this time for 15 mins. I pace the front area, glaring at people staring at my greasy hands. Finally she returns with an all ¼ set. I rush back out and change the alternator, pay for the thing, return the tools and take off towards Bothell. Oh, and I hit rush hour traffic.
So I got home an hour before my train left. I ran in, washed greasy hands, changed, apologized and thanked mom and dad as they put baskets of my stuff into the car so I could pack on the way. I wouldn’t suggest this method for leaving on a 6-week journey, but I did make the train. There wasn’t any security at the train station to slow me. I even got to wave at my mom as the train pulled away. Awesome feeling.
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