Two weeks ago I was hanging out at some friends' apartment -- eating lunch, enjoying the Christmas decorations, having a good conversation, and... wait, what?! Did I just say Christmas decorations? More than a week before Halloween?
Yeah. I'm not making this up.
This (along with an idea from my friend kmech) made me think about the spectrum of different times of the year when people start putting up Christmas decorations. These are my thoughts, though because I don't have the media or graphics skills to make a visual in spectrum form, we'll have to settle with a list for now:
What your Christmas decor says about you specifically, what the timing of your Christmas decor says about you
1a. No start date (i.e. year-round Christmas decorations)
You really, really love Christmas, OR
You're really, really lazy
1b. No start date (i.e. no Christmas decorations)
You hate Christmas, OR
You're really, really lazy
2. Before Halloween
You really, really love Christmas. Like, too much.
3. Between Halloween and Thanksgiving
You love Christmas a lot, OR
You like seasonal decorations a lot and realize that since turkeys and cornucopias are the only ones specific to November, you might as well skip straight to Christmas, OR
You are a store trying to capitalize on America's greed in order to increase revenue
4. Between "Black Friday" and December 9
You have a healthy, normal attitude toward Christmas, OR
You don't care about Christmas but feel crushed by pressure to conform to cultural norms, including the one to put up lights and trees during the two weeks after Thanksgiving
5. Between December 10 and December 24
Your procrastination slightly outweighs your Christmas spirit, OR
You don't care much for Christmas, but have a personality that gives way to people's constant badgering to put up decorations
Scrooge------------ Where do you fall? -----------------Jolly You can answer that question and/or just answer the one below and let the above (foolproof) spectrum/list say the rest
Awesome author Rick James (not the Dave Chappelle character) sometimes writes and speaks that we mistakenly see ourselves as the heroes of epic stories rather than individuals on a planet of 7 billion other people.
I'm reminded of that sobering insight as I set about to portray the shaving of my head as one of the most important, profound epics that humanity has ever seen.
The little beard trimmer that could or, "how I came to make one of the best decisions of my life"
It was a hot day in early summer in Ocean City -- so early in summer, in fact, that the crows were still attacking people left and right as the baby crows learned to fly -- when my summer roommate (let's call him Justin) decided, somewhat on a whim, that he would shave his head.
I, wanting so badly to be part of something (anything), cleared my throat and ventured, "Um, I was thinking, that maybe... that perchance I also could, likewise, in addition, shave my head as you have just done too."
Justin's body pulled off, in that moment, a complex set of simultaneous actions. His brow furrowed, his gag reflex started to choke him, and his eyes widened in a look of unmistakable horror. Without saying a word, he made it clear that he imagined a shaved head version of me would look like a cross between Sloth and the bad guy from the Green Lantern movie:
His words were slightly kinder: "No man. Not a good idea."
Terrified by the image I imagined he was imagining, I accepted his decision and tried to blot the memory from my mind.
But five months later, I still hadn't gotten my hair cut since that conversation and my hair was getting long and gross. One day in early autumn -- a day that was unusually hot for autumn and thus one that made my hair unusually uncomfortable; furthermore, a day on which I happened to be really fed up with women and work, and thus was desiring to bring about as much change as possible -- I turned to my much more agreeable friend Mike and said:
"I think I might shave my head."
His reaction was the exact opposite of Justin's. He lit up like a kid at Christmas and even started talking logistics. In a matter of hours I was completely determined to buzz off all my hair.
[I've run out of narrative steam. To finish the tale-- The next night, I did the deed with my roommate Pat's help. My weak-action beard trimmer proved to be an obstacle and threatened to leave my head disgustingly half-shaved, but Pat swooped in with his much better technology.]
Why I love the new look and why I'll never go back to the way things were
1. It's free. I can never pay for a haircut ever again? Awesome. 2. It gives me options. While I'm sort of attached to the always-hat look that I've used for personal branding the past 4 years, it's nice to be able to leave the apartment without one. 3. It looks pretty B.A. Or at least it does in the one existing photo of it, which was carefully crafted to look B.A.:
Take that, Justin.
What was your "shaved head" decision? obviously there are limits to vulnerability on a public blog about nothing, but still...
Have you ever been talked into or out of doing something crazy? Tattoo, skydiving, piercing, seeing Night at the Museum 2, etc.?
I know "How He Loves" is, like, sooooo 2007, but in all my days of tangenting, it has somehow slid under the radar. Given the wild success (joking; I have no success criteria) of my last post about worship music, it now feels like the time to finally address the elephant in the room.
"How He Loves," if you're not familiar with it, is fascinating because it splits every church into two groups: those who roll their eyes when the "sloppy, wet kiss" line comes, and those who wait til 2 seconds after the service to start avidly defending the song and presenting the backstory of its origin (as if we eye-rollers haven't heard it 3,000 times).
But arguments about that line -- "heaven meets earth like a sloppy, wet kiss" -- are seriously tired. It might remind you of an affectionate kiss from a lovable puppy. Perhaps it conjures images of a half-blind over-perfumed great-aunt. Or maybe memories of middle school's "seven minutes in heaven" (woah! heaven reference!). I don't really care what that line does for you, because I want to focus on the violent imagery found elsewhere in the song.
The violence of God's benevolent grace Warning: content may not be suitable for children
Verse 1: "He... loves like a hurricane; I am a tree bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy."
With Hurricanes Katrina, Ivan, Ike, etc. (including Bob, if you were on vacation with my family in 1991) still in the back of everyone's minds, this seems like an unnecessarily off-putting choice to symbolize God's mercy. It's especially weird since God's mercy is defined (by Wayne Grudem) as His "goodness toward those in misery and distress."
Verse 2: "If grace is an ocean, we're all sinking."
What strikes me as strange about this is that the line ends with "sinking." I think "floating", "diving", or "swimming" could have done the trick without the implication of death by drowning. Again using Grudem's definition, God's grace is His "goodness toward those who deserve only punishment." Isn't it ironic, then, to explain it using the punishment one would receive from a pirate?
Verse ???:
This has naturally led me and at least one of my friends to come up with our own violent images of God's love. Here are a few ideas...
His love chops me to pieces like a chainsaw
I am in the fetal position, being pummeled by God's kindness
Put on your writing caps Seriously, please comment. There's no pressure. You will receive far less scrutiny than the dude who originally wrote "How He Loves"
Give me your best new lines of violent imagery.
What do you think of "How He Loves" and its many metaphors?
Worship music is something that most Christians really get into. Its benefits are many; it...
provides an opportunity to focus undivided attention on God and His character
gives a medium to passionately express your gratitude and love to God
allows you to be united in mind and spirit with your community
to name a few.
But sometimes, just as you're starting to drown out worldly thought-distractions and open up emotionally to God, a familiar chord progression begins. And by "familiar" I mean "way, way too familiar; so familiar, in fact, that the mere sound makes you want to close your ears and start saying 'LA-LA-LA' so you don't have to listen to one more second of it."
Some worship songs have just been so overplayed in churches and conferences the last 5, 10, 15 years (and in some cases, are also so bad) that -- for those of us who are still coming along on this spiritual journey of patience, maturity, and self-control -- they instantly induce an un-worshipful cringe.
And so, I give you...
Worship songs that need to be retired and if they're not willing to retire, I'm trying to get them fired
[Note: there are some songs that would make this list, except you never hear them anymore, e.g. "Shine Jesus Shine." But it seems they have already called it quits, so there's no reason to bring them back onto anyone's radar.]
I'm amazed at how such a boring song became so incredibly overplayed. It doesn't even have a bridge, it just keeps coming back to "I'm coming back to the heart of worship..." over and over and over and over and over again. In the video linked above, Matt Redman at times looks like he's going to fall asleep while singing the song.
Slow, boring, repetitive. It does have a bridge (and a poignant one at that), but the most musically and emotionally driven moments of the song coincide with pretty self-centered lyrics ("here I am to worship, here I am to bow down, here I am to say that You're my God").
If you were a cool teenager in the winter of 2001, you were listening to Jimmy Eat World's album Bleed American. They were pretty new, their music was of the increasingly popular alternative-emo-pop-punk variety, and let's face it, the album RULES.
If you were a teenager who wanted to be cool in the summer of 2002, you were finally listening to the album.
I discovered Bleed American in the summer of 2002.
"Your House" But given new meaning by my optimistic imagination
First of all, here's the song:
The gist of the song is that the singer is tired of a woman breaking his heart over and over again, so he's trying to cut ties with her to move on.
And sure, that's a real thing. I appreciate the honesty. But I can't seem to help getting a little depressed at the oft-repeated lines
If you love me at all, please don't tell me now If you love me at all, don't call
So I've invented an alternate meaning for the song. Imagine a guy who likes a girl. This will work better if you picture a nerdy guy liking a girl who's not necessarily reciprocating (I'm envisioning Screech and Lisa from Saved by the Bell).
Ok, now because this guy is striking out, he resorts to saying "If you love me, I want you (for reasons I won't go into) to act like you don't love me." This sets up the ultimate win-win scenario for poor Screech/me/loser/guy. If she acts like she loves him, WIN. If she acts like she doesn't, he can just shoot her occasional knowing glances and construct an imaginary reality in which she's suppressing her love in order to fulfill his cryptic demand. WIN.
And that's basically what Jimmy Eat World is saying--
If you love me at all, don't call.
Saved (from being eaten by Jimmy) by the bell See what I did there? I combined the names of the 2 pop-culture references in this post.
Did you listen to Jimmy Eat World in the early 2000s?
Who was your favorite Saved by the Bell character/couple?
