Terry Schiavo

Originally, I was under the impression that she was a vegetable and on
life support, and I felt it was humane to allow her to die. Keeping
someone "alive" at all costs is an abuse of our technology and robs them
of their dignity as a human being.

I have changed my mind on this case. First, she has not been on life
support. She breathes on her own; she can hold herself up if propped up;
and she reacts to people around her, even if minutely. The feeding tube
in question is used because she physically cannot eat.

Withdrawing food and water from her is the cruelest form of execution,
and she has not committed any crime (except for being in her husband's
way). Now that the tube has been withdrawn, the doctors say she will die
in TEN days to TWO WEEKS. Of course, I'm no doctor, but this length of
time indicates to me that she is still functional. Other than physically
not being able to eat, she is not dependent upon machines to keep her
alive. And I don't believe this is a "painless" way to die.

Why is her husband, Michael, so damned intent on killing his wife? He's
moved on to another woman with whom he has had TWO children. The only
person who says she wouldn't want to be kept alive is Michael. And why
only mention this after she has been in this condition for EIGHT years?
If her parents are willing to take on her care; why not let them? They
have even filed divorce papers on her behalf so he doesn't have to keep
the responsibility, and he has refused to allow it. He's determined that
she must die.

An Interesting Thought

Tonight, I went to dinner with my upstairs neighbor, Karen, whom I've known about as long as she's been in Houston (I beat her here by two years). I had mentioned something about my previous job, that when I started, I could see five years, then blackness for a while, then an unknown period (which, you would think blackness is unknown, but it had a totally different quality, this unknown period, like it was being masked from me because it was too early to see, that it would be too much information for me to handle at the time -- this I've just realized now, not then).

I remarked to her that I did indeed work at my previous job for five years (actually, 5-½ years, but five years from the point of seeing), and that I now perceive that I'm in blackness in my life, with nothing seeming to go right, I can't make heads or tails of my life, I don't like my job a whole lot (that's why they call it work, right, because otherwise you'd do it for free), and I can't see any future beyond this present bleakness.

She asked if I considered myself a prophet, and if I had visions like that often. I thought for a second, and then realized I've had lots of prophetic things in my life, so I said simply, "yes", but I hadn't had but a handful of visions. Further, I told her that on a recent spiritual gifts survey, prophecy came out as my top gift, followed by teaching and wisdom, and that being in a Southern Baptist church really helps me put that prophetic gift to work.

I then told her about a friend of mine, Larry, who told me it was no wonder satan was camped at my doorstep telling me all these horrible things about myself. When Larry told me this, I told him that I didn't know how much of it was satan and how much of it was just me recognizing who I am. This thought passed through my mind tonight when I was telling the rest to Karen (but I didn't share this particular thought with her), that I still don't know how much of it is satan and how much of it is just me. And I asked this question internally, "Is this really from satan?" For the first time, I heard an answer, "yes," and then the afterthought, "no one thinks any of these horrible things of you; no one!"

I might not yet have won or succeeded in all I would like to do, and I have made many, many bad decisions, but I'm not a loser, a failure, or a waste of oxygen/carbon dioxide processing because of these things. I think I can have hope for my life (almost as much hope as I have for everyone else) that it will be more than just living out the consequences of my sinful decisions. I think there can be God bringing about good things in others' lives through me despite myself. That is my greatest desire, that people will see not just what a difference God can make in their lives, but what a difference He has made in their lives. And I'd like to be in on it, not so they will know it was me and think highly of me, but so I can make sure they know it was God Who has done for them. [This still isn't quite the right nuance of it, but it escapes me at the moment. This is close enough for now.]

I truly want to believe this, and I at least have some hope of actually believing it now.

Writing

I wrote five pages yesterday. Wahoo!

Can I keep it up? I'm not saying, because I don't know.

Chill Factor

A tiny movie review of Chill Factor, starring Skeet Ulrich and Cuba Gooding, Jr.

Remember the movie Speed was pretty successful, and its sequel, Speed 2, was wildly unsuccessful? Well, Chill Factor is touted as Speed, but it channels Speed 2 in every conceivable way, especially the bad parts. It's still better than About Last Night and Random Hearts.

What I Liked

• There were several beautiful scenery shots. Gorgeous stuff.
• In an attempt to liberate an unlocked pickup truck, one needs keys, correct? The standard cliche is that the keys are (conveniently) in the visor. This time, the would-be thief searches there, but finds nothing.
• Skeet Ulrich mostly played a realistic (non-)action star
  
• It ended.

What I Didn't Like

• Everything else.

As non-cliche as the truck key scene was, the rest of the movie was full of cliches and just plain rotten. For me to notice something like that, it must be pretty bad. Most of my movies rated at Netflix are four and five stars, so I'm pretty darn forgiving of movies, or at the least I'm looking at something different even in standard fare.

Other than Ulrich's character, Mason, doing the right thing out of loyalty to a friend and because it's the right thing to do, there's not much to like about the movie. This theme of doing right is not explored nearly enough in either capacity. I'm not that picky a person as far as movies are concerned, but this was just awful, painful even. Bad editing, bad sound, bad continuity. Just bad all the way around.

For instance, at one point they talk about how hot it is otuside (because the "stuff" needs to stay below 50°F in order to remain inert). Then everyone is wearing jackets and long sleeves throughout the movie. Or, there's a perfectly good ice chest holding the stuff, but Mason takes off his long sleeve shirt and puts the vials of "stuff" in it and covers it in ice. Why? The ice chest will fit through the hole he has to carry it through. No, the sole purpose of this is so the vial can be broken on the ground during the final fight with the bad guy and have the heat activate the vial.

Sorry if you think that's a spoiler, but the whole movie is a spoiler, a perfect waste of a good sick day!

Lunch Today

After church today, we went to Jason's Deli. I had a "Pollo Mexicano Lite" with no cheese. The "Lite" version uses fat-free butter, cheese, and sour cream. Cheese beyond a bite or two just doesn't agree with me, that whole lactose-intolerance thing (but not nearly as bad as milk).

There were probably 20 people in our party. I'm one of those middle conversation people, the ones who get in the middle of the conversations on either side but aren't really participating too much. When I sat down, however, I was toward the end of the table, but we added more tables to my end, so I was in the middle yet again. It turns out the young lady across from me is also a middle conversation person, and one of the women that sat next to me is also one. And we all originally sat on the end to avoid that going on. We did manage to hold our own conversation, but it was quite difficult.

One of the questions posed — you know, one of those questions you ask everyone you don't know really well in order to get to know them better? — was, "If you could do anything with no consequences, what would you do?" And my answer was movies. I didn't get to explain that I'd like my friends to be there to watch with me and then discuss afterward. But movies really are my life, however sad that might sound. There's probably the element of escapism involved, but movies really work for me.

I also learned a great deal about how much guys suck in the way they treat women. Not so much in trying to be mean or bad (though that does exist), but just in being unthinking about the way women perceive things. But it works the other way, too, that all of the things guy say to girls, girls say to guys, too, just in their own unique way.

All in all, a fun lunch.

Ice Cream

So, I took advantage of Yahoo!'s free ice cream cone today. If you missed out on your free ice cream cone, you didn't need the calories anyway. Five of us went to Quizno's for lunch (well, four, and one came in later), then we went next door to Baskin Robbins. The creamista (like the barrista for Starbucks, except this is for ice cream) got us our ice cream and, bless his heart, he seemed clueless as to what was going on.

Anyway, the five of use were standing around in the store, as this Baskin Robbins had no chairs. Someone asked the question, "Have any of you ever dropped an ice cream cone?" (Now, this might not be the exact wording of the question he asked, but it captures the essence and intent of his question quite adequately. And, according to my memory, this is what he asked, word for word. But I congress.) Three of us had dropped an ice cream cone before, leaving two who said they had never dropped an ice cream cone before. Within five minutes of the posing of the question (though it's not a model, paper, economic, or runway), the number shifted from three to four who had dropped an ice cream cone. It was as though an improbability-drive ship engaged nearby, and rather than dropping whale bits or petunias, an ice cream leaped in vain attempt at flight.

P.S. a whole post without self-assassination or self-loathing; that improbability-drive ship must be hovering nearby!

L on the Forehead: Defined

Today has not been a very good day. A new person started at work three or four weeks ago, and she was working in the conference room. Because she needs to talk all the time to the guy that got me my job (they're both heavy on the sales side), I got moved. Now, it does make sense for her to be across from him; I have no problem with that. But, out of all the furniture they've bought over the nearly two years I've been there, this is the sorriest furniture yet, with the faux wood finish found on Wal-Mart furniture (not knocking Wal-Mart furniture, but compared to the rest of what we have, it's just not very nice looking). On top of that, I get the crappier desk of the two that were bought, and I was ecstatic when the temperature went down to 79° in the office where I am (which I share with only two other people for now— more to come later— and these two speak Chinese fluently and loudly).

Only two times in my professional career has a change in furniture for me been an improvement. Even when I became a manager and had my own office, the furniture "upgrade" was a real bane: sharp edges, ugly, and big so big it was nearly impossible to maneuver in the office— and I had a nice cement pillar in my office to really force the furniture in one way only.

It just seems to be another episode in the continuing saga of my solitary life. And I say this after some very considerate and caring people did stuff for me when my grandmother died. Still, I am reminded that I have no one. Mostly, that's by choice, and I can't imagine anyone ever wanting me. Tolerate, make do, pity, and have a few laughs quite possibly not at my own expense are all on the checklist, but a romantic interest is out of the question. And the laughter, reputed to be a great attractor, is really a mask for the immense pain underneath. If I keep 'em laughing, they'll not have time to realize how much of a jerk I am and how little I have to offer.

Some might question the timing on all of this: bad day at work leading to downward spiral of thoughts. It's more like a double-pronged attack, both supplying the ammunition of my self-assassination. I want to believe that God wants more for me. And I know He wants more from me, too. I am incapable of believing anything good about myself for any sustained period.

Joel Osteen says in his book, Your Best Life Now, that God wants to turn my bad into good. I want to believe that's true; I want to believe that all of my horrible decisions will not haunt my every waking moment until I die; I want to believe that I can make a difference for someone; I really want to know that the rest of my life will be more than just paying off debt and being stuck in a dead-end job; I really want to see that my sanctification is accomplishing more than just stemming the tide of the blackness I'm constantly steeped in.

Sadly, however, I don't really see any of that happening for me. Joel says you just have to believe, to change your attitude about all of it. But I don't know that I agree with that. I mean, I should probably change my attitude, but how does that in any way, shape, form, or fashion dictate what God ought to do?

No, from what I've read in the Bible, every person who has done wrong must suffer the consequences of their reckless actions; I can't think of a single person who did not have to live with the results of what they did. And this has nothing to do with forgiveness, either. No, God forgives and sometimes diminishes our punishment. But I'm still in debt, and it's not going away except a few dollars each month. I'm not that great a guy and don't really have anything much worthwhile to offer, so I stay away from people. I despise most of what I do, and I detest much of what I have become.

I could have been a contender.

I'm back

So, after my grandmother died, we didn't know how my mother would make it to Virginia for the funeral. Well, thanks to the pryaers of many friends, God worked it out that not only could my parents go, but I could go as well. We're all very thankful.

The funeral was nice, if such things could be nice. But really, it was about hope in Christ rather than concentrating on her death. As Christians, we do have sadness and grief at the passing of loved ones, but we also have the grace of God, His love and compassion, and His strength to carry us through. I seriously don't know how non-Christians get through times like these.

And I don't mean that in an elitist way. But, through Christ, we have hope in a future beyond our death. And this isn't just a mere wishing, but a confidence of things unseen. If you don't know Christ, what hope do you have? I mean, really, what hope is there? The "Universe"? Ourselves? Fate? What do these really do for us except allow us to fool ourselves into some sense of being "in control of our destiny"? And where does that get us?

Shock

So, my cell phone rang tonight. I knew it was my parents calling, and at 9:20 pm, I knew it wasn't good. My mother told me my grandmother was gone.

Now, my father's mother has been pushing death for a while now. She's been ready to die for quite some time. So, I've just kind of been waiting to hear that phone call.

Then my mother said, "It was my mother." And it took a few seconds for it to sink in what she was telling me. It was totally unexpected, and I am heartbroken. As my mother said, she's with Jesus now, and we'll get to see her again one day. In the mean time, though, we still have grief at her passing.

More Randomness

Did you think I forgot about you? Well, last week, I enjoyed watching so much tv and movies in my living room that I did forget about it. Oh, I knew it was sitting right here waiting for me, but I hardly even turned on my computer last week.

• SpongeBob is NOT GAY. First, it's a CARTOON. For kids. Second, he's a SPONGE. His friend, Patrick, is a STARFISH. They're not even the same species, so how can they be gay? Mr. Dobson, you're a very intelligent man, and I generally support most of the things you do, but this is absolutely ridiculous. Please, be quiet before you give Christians more of a bad name by demonstrating total cultural ignorance.
• The Insider is a fantastic movie. I hated having to spread out watching it over two nights. Russell Crowe did an outstanding job here. Al Pacino was... Al Pacino. What more can one say about him? Yes, there's not a lot of action (none, perhaps?), and it's all thinking, but what's wrong with that?
• God has really been showing me a lot lately. I hate putting this in such a short post (of course, we'll wait to see how short it is until after I'm finished writing it!), but if I share anything at all, it will be better than nothing. I've been teaching I John the past few weeks, and from that, I've come to realize that I don't need to be so down on myself. A revelation one morning after a particularly bad couple of days was that it's not so much my in/action but Jesus' actions. He has truly set me free. I'm not fully comprehending this, but I know I'm much better off now. There's a whole bit about sanctification in there. Many things are starting to gel together for me about the Bible (which I've always believed, even if I didn't understand how it applied to me or what it meant exactly) and my place with God. The things I've learned while teaching are not specifically the things I recall being taught. Anyway, suffice it to say that I'm coming to a better place in spite of myself and because of Him. I can't reconcile my in/action, but that's not my job (it's His). All I can do is what I know to be true and right and honorable, and trust that He knows my heart and intentions (believe it or not, we can lie to ourselves).