Tonight the state senate of New York passed a bill for gay marriage. Not civil unions. Marriage.
Some say, "why such a big deal if it's a civil union or a marriage?"
In my opinion, calling the commitment of two members of the same sex 'civil unions' gives the connotations of a second-class distinctions. Straight couples get to call their union 'marriage' and the same privilege should be extended to gay couples.
When I find someone that I love and care for and want to make a commitment to for the rest of my life, I don't want a certificate saying that I have a civil union. I don't want a church service that is simply "same sex blessing." I want to get married. Does that mean I want all the fuss and frill and lace and production? Maybe, maybe not. But I want a church and a state that will acknowledge my commitment as a marriage and a service that has the appropriate wording.
The tides are slowly turning in the right direction.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Monday, May 2, 2011
Teaching
Obama in his state of the union a while back made a bold statement that if we really wanted to do a great service to our country, we should teach. I agreed with that completely. The teachers and professors in my life have expanded the way I see the world and have challenged me to think for myself and have given me the confidence to see how I might influence and interpret the world around me. I cannot thank them enough for that.
However, Obama wasn't talking about just teachers in general, he was singling out teaching and learning in the fields of math and science. Which, by the way, has been a goal mentioned with almost every president we've had since WWII. I'm not arguing that we don't need math and science teachers. They are very important and the students of the United States need to be able to compete on an international scale.
I'd like to point out that our students in this country also have severe problems reading, writing and understanding their country's history. This is intolerable. Yes, math and science are important, but if a student doesn't have the skills to write or comprehend writing, then math and science are almost null and void. You can't walk around life without the capacity to read and write. You just can't. You don't have to be a novelist or anything, but you need the critical thinking skills that accompany reading and writing to think for yourself and to express yourself in the written form. Even scientists and mathematicians need the skill to write in order to share their work.
And then there's history. When the children here as well as many adults know nothing about the men and women who have created this country and the events that turned the tide, there is a great disservice to this country. The revolution? "We fought the british." Civil War? "The North and the South fought over slavery" World War I? "Don't know... Hitler?" The Great Depression? "We were broke" World War II? "Hitler and the Japs"
The sad thing is that there are even Americans out there that don't understand even the basic ideas that these event occurred or the reasons behind them. History isn't just about knowing one's country, it's about a sense of pride. It's about, once again, being able to critically think about things that have not only happened in the past, but that are happening now and will happen in the future.
So, yes Obama, let's get science and math up to par with the rest of the world, but don't forget English, History and liberal arts in general, because while scientists and mathematicians better the world with innovations, Historians, writers, and everyone benefits from a good liberal arts education. They are made better because of it and thus our country is made better.
However, Obama wasn't talking about just teachers in general, he was singling out teaching and learning in the fields of math and science. Which, by the way, has been a goal mentioned with almost every president we've had since WWII. I'm not arguing that we don't need math and science teachers. They are very important and the students of the United States need to be able to compete on an international scale.
I'd like to point out that our students in this country also have severe problems reading, writing and understanding their country's history. This is intolerable. Yes, math and science are important, but if a student doesn't have the skills to write or comprehend writing, then math and science are almost null and void. You can't walk around life without the capacity to read and write. You just can't. You don't have to be a novelist or anything, but you need the critical thinking skills that accompany reading and writing to think for yourself and to express yourself in the written form. Even scientists and mathematicians need the skill to write in order to share their work.
And then there's history. When the children here as well as many adults know nothing about the men and women who have created this country and the events that turned the tide, there is a great disservice to this country. The revolution? "We fought the british." Civil War? "The North and the South fought over slavery" World War I? "Don't know... Hitler?" The Great Depression? "We were broke" World War II? "Hitler and the Japs"
The sad thing is that there are even Americans out there that don't understand even the basic ideas that these event occurred or the reasons behind them. History isn't just about knowing one's country, it's about a sense of pride. It's about, once again, being able to critically think about things that have not only happened in the past, but that are happening now and will happen in the future.
So, yes Obama, let's get science and math up to par with the rest of the world, but don't forget English, History and liberal arts in general, because while scientists and mathematicians better the world with innovations, Historians, writers, and everyone benefits from a good liberal arts education. They are made better because of it and thus our country is made better.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Episcopal Service Corps
Around this time last year I was not necessarily freaking out, but nonetheless concerned about what exactly I was going to do after completing my Master's in Southern Studies. At the time I did not particularly care for applying for my PhD and I didn't just want to do an office job and definitely did not consider working for a museum or as a public school teacher.
I knew, however, that I wanted to try and at least see if ministry in the Episcopal Church was something I could handle. I had heard about the Episcopal Service Corps and checked it out. I was also searching for youth ministry jobs within the Episcopal Church. I applied to some jobs and for whatever reasons, be it lack of experience or lack of schooling in ministry, I was denied the jobs. So I took a closer look at the Episcopal Service Corps, did some blanketed applications and tried my luck.
My luck landed me two offers. One in San Francisco and the other in Newark, New Jersey. I took some time to think on it and chose San Francisco. The Episcopal Service Corps, to me, is an opportunity to further explore the ways that lay and ordained or intentional ministry for twenty somethings who want more out of their lives than just a desk job. It is a way to see firsthand through working with non profits or local churches just what exactly ministry can look like.
What made the Episcopal Service Corps even better for me was the structure of it. The time taken to worship together and eat together, building a community of support and care was a big draw for me. As a 25 year old at the time, I found myself not entirely committed to a church, but longing to be a part of a community and the Episcopal Service Corps gave me that.
For those who are interested in a life of simplicity and service and ministry and worship, the Episcopal Service Corps is ideal. Through circumstances out of my control, I did not complete my year with the program and I miss that community, but that does not stop me from promoting that kind of dedication and intentional time.
There's something to be said in this consumer driven culture, for those who choose to buck against it. The young adults searching for something more to do with their lives, meaningful, not always financially profitable, but sustaining work for the soul. The closely linked monastic life coupled with work and continued participation in the world around us is something that few people get to experience.
I am better for the time I spent in San Francisco. I learned a lot from that experience and believe that the mission that is promoted through the Episcopal Service Corps is a good one, a necessary one, in this time of questioning and doubt.
I knew, however, that I wanted to try and at least see if ministry in the Episcopal Church was something I could handle. I had heard about the Episcopal Service Corps and checked it out. I was also searching for youth ministry jobs within the Episcopal Church. I applied to some jobs and for whatever reasons, be it lack of experience or lack of schooling in ministry, I was denied the jobs. So I took a closer look at the Episcopal Service Corps, did some blanketed applications and tried my luck.
My luck landed me two offers. One in San Francisco and the other in Newark, New Jersey. I took some time to think on it and chose San Francisco. The Episcopal Service Corps, to me, is an opportunity to further explore the ways that lay and ordained or intentional ministry for twenty somethings who want more out of their lives than just a desk job. It is a way to see firsthand through working with non profits or local churches just what exactly ministry can look like.
What made the Episcopal Service Corps even better for me was the structure of it. The time taken to worship together and eat together, building a community of support and care was a big draw for me. As a 25 year old at the time, I found myself not entirely committed to a church, but longing to be a part of a community and the Episcopal Service Corps gave me that.
For those who are interested in a life of simplicity and service and ministry and worship, the Episcopal Service Corps is ideal. Through circumstances out of my control, I did not complete my year with the program and I miss that community, but that does not stop me from promoting that kind of dedication and intentional time.
There's something to be said in this consumer driven culture, for those who choose to buck against it. The young adults searching for something more to do with their lives, meaningful, not always financially profitable, but sustaining work for the soul. The closely linked monastic life coupled with work and continued participation in the world around us is something that few people get to experience.
I am better for the time I spent in San Francisco. I learned a lot from that experience and believe that the mission that is promoted through the Episcopal Service Corps is a good one, a necessary one, in this time of questioning and doubt.
Friday, February 25, 2011
In defense of History
In President Obama's State of the Union, he said that we needed to emphasize education. I agree with that. Where Obama and I disagree is his focus on science and math. Don't get me wrong, science and math are integral to education, but when a lot of students in this country have serious problems writing and reading and also don't know anything about this country's history, something is going seriously wrong. When a lot of adults don't even know this country's history, there is something even more wrong.
Say what you want about math and science leading to innovation, but what can an innovator create and promote if they lack the skills to read and write and present? What accountant can effectively do his job if he can't communicate with clients? What would this country be if the leading historians on American History weren't American? What happened to the sense of pride in American literature?
I know a lot of people claim that history is boring, that it's not interesting memorizing dates. History doesn't have to be about that. Learning and studying history is more than just knowing what happened. Being trained and exposed to learning history is a way of thinking that is lacking in today's society. It involves reading books and critically evaluating them in a way that you can develop your own opinions. It's about being informed. It's about taking an issue and researching the story behind it. If you look at it, history is a collection of stories that have been passed down and deserve to keep living.
History is also about a sense of pride. Knowing the way this country was founded, knowing the milestones and celebrating the way we have come to be the society we are, is integral to the way we feel about being citizens. Even if you think critically about events in the past and don't agree with what happened, studying history gives you the tools to piece together your own thoughts about why things happen.
So yeah, let's get a better education initiative. But let's be fair to liberal arts as well as math and science. Why can't the two get along?
Say what you want about math and science leading to innovation, but what can an innovator create and promote if they lack the skills to read and write and present? What accountant can effectively do his job if he can't communicate with clients? What would this country be if the leading historians on American History weren't American? What happened to the sense of pride in American literature?
I know a lot of people claim that history is boring, that it's not interesting memorizing dates. History doesn't have to be about that. Learning and studying history is more than just knowing what happened. Being trained and exposed to learning history is a way of thinking that is lacking in today's society. It involves reading books and critically evaluating them in a way that you can develop your own opinions. It's about being informed. It's about taking an issue and researching the story behind it. If you look at it, history is a collection of stories that have been passed down and deserve to keep living.
History is also about a sense of pride. Knowing the way this country was founded, knowing the milestones and celebrating the way we have come to be the society we are, is integral to the way we feel about being citizens. Even if you think critically about events in the past and don't agree with what happened, studying history gives you the tools to piece together your own thoughts about why things happen.
So yeah, let's get a better education initiative. But let's be fair to liberal arts as well as math and science. Why can't the two get along?
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Power-Through
A phrase that I keep finding myself saying these days is "power-through." It's been a philosophy of mine that whenever I face an obstacle, if I just persist and fight my way through it, it'll work out for the best. Lately, though, powering through as a way of life isn't quite working how it usually does.
It makes me second guess that philosophy. And, as a trained historian, I wonder if that philosophy is just what our culture has trained us to do. Pulling ourselves up by our own bootstraps and finding a way to make things work beyond all obstacles seems to be the way we earn respect in American society. Unemployed? You're not looking hard enough for a job. Depressed? Buck up and be happy with your situation because there are always people who have it off worse. Problems with your significant other? Just hang in there and make it work, like all the romantic comedies tell us to and it'll be ok.
The problem with powering through is that it leaves others and sometimes ourselves, in a painful wake. How many people, who are unsatisfied with their situations, just stick it out because they can't think of anything that could possibly be better for them? How many people keep saying to themselves, "when life gives you lemons, make lemonade." Why don't you try returning the lemons and finding something that you really like? Is it fear that holds us back from returning and searching for what makes us happy? I don't know.
When I first got back to Mississippi from California, I thought that I had been a failure. I found myself back in the South, a place where I cannot pursue what I feel like I could have pursued in California. I kept seeing California as a place where all my dreams could come true. Now, that might seem silly, but that's the honest truth. At first being back in the Bible Belt, where homophobic statements are made more often than not and disparaging comments about our President because of his race happen rarely, but are intense, made me feel like I had taken a step backward. My first inclination was to do whatever I could to get back out of the South. I deserved better, I kept telling myself. All I had to do was power-through and I would get what I wanted.
However, powering through to get out of the South again would mean leaving the people I care about. It would mean not seeing the good that Mississippi can offer. As many statements I have heard in the South that have upset me, there are equally disturbing statements made all around this country and all around the world. Plus, I have friends here in the South who know and love me for who I am. I have people who understand that the New Orleans Saints are the best team in the country, no matter what their record that year might be. I say "Mardi Gras" and people know the religious significance of it, and don't only associate it with Bourbon Street in the Crescent City. And on that note, I know people who know why New Orleans is called the Crescent City. Yes, there are things I would love for the South to change. But that's true of everywhere.
I see these things because my thinking is different now. I can't tell you the switch that made everything clearer to me than it had been before. What I can tell you, is that powering through leaves a wake because you're moving too fast. Pushing through when you should be slowly making steps can cause scars on relationships and your own well being. Sometimes it's the slow transitions that are necessary. Sometimes, no matter how much we would like to pick up and move out, move away as fast as we can, the challenge and call is to stay put. The call is to be there for your friends and to allow them to be there for you. Life is a marathon, not a sprint. At least the way I see it, it is. And I'm here for the long haul of change and challenges and rising (maybe a little more slowly than before) to the occasion.
It makes me second guess that philosophy. And, as a trained historian, I wonder if that philosophy is just what our culture has trained us to do. Pulling ourselves up by our own bootstraps and finding a way to make things work beyond all obstacles seems to be the way we earn respect in American society. Unemployed? You're not looking hard enough for a job. Depressed? Buck up and be happy with your situation because there are always people who have it off worse. Problems with your significant other? Just hang in there and make it work, like all the romantic comedies tell us to and it'll be ok.
The problem with powering through is that it leaves others and sometimes ourselves, in a painful wake. How many people, who are unsatisfied with their situations, just stick it out because they can't think of anything that could possibly be better for them? How many people keep saying to themselves, "when life gives you lemons, make lemonade." Why don't you try returning the lemons and finding something that you really like? Is it fear that holds us back from returning and searching for what makes us happy? I don't know.
When I first got back to Mississippi from California, I thought that I had been a failure. I found myself back in the South, a place where I cannot pursue what I feel like I could have pursued in California. I kept seeing California as a place where all my dreams could come true. Now, that might seem silly, but that's the honest truth. At first being back in the Bible Belt, where homophobic statements are made more often than not and disparaging comments about our President because of his race happen rarely, but are intense, made me feel like I had taken a step backward. My first inclination was to do whatever I could to get back out of the South. I deserved better, I kept telling myself. All I had to do was power-through and I would get what I wanted.
However, powering through to get out of the South again would mean leaving the people I care about. It would mean not seeing the good that Mississippi can offer. As many statements I have heard in the South that have upset me, there are equally disturbing statements made all around this country and all around the world. Plus, I have friends here in the South who know and love me for who I am. I have people who understand that the New Orleans Saints are the best team in the country, no matter what their record that year might be. I say "Mardi Gras" and people know the religious significance of it, and don't only associate it with Bourbon Street in the Crescent City. And on that note, I know people who know why New Orleans is called the Crescent City. Yes, there are things I would love for the South to change. But that's true of everywhere.
I see these things because my thinking is different now. I can't tell you the switch that made everything clearer to me than it had been before. What I can tell you, is that powering through leaves a wake because you're moving too fast. Pushing through when you should be slowly making steps can cause scars on relationships and your own well being. Sometimes it's the slow transitions that are necessary. Sometimes, no matter how much we would like to pick up and move out, move away as fast as we can, the challenge and call is to stay put. The call is to be there for your friends and to allow them to be there for you. Life is a marathon, not a sprint. At least the way I see it, it is. And I'm here for the long haul of change and challenges and rising (maybe a little more slowly than before) to the occasion.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Not your ordinary preacher..
I find myself now-a-days talking more about religion than anything else. Out at bars, out at house parties, even outside of gas stations. I don't go to do this. It has lately just happen to be the conversations I get roped into. For example, walking into a gas station, I saw an employee talking about religion while smoking a cigarette. I didn't pry. I walked in and pre-paid some gas. Upon leaving, the employee asked me into the conversation, "what do you think?"
I'm not going to lie and say I jumped to the occasion. To be frank, I was quite tired and a little irritated at the moment since I had just paid an exorbitant amount for a tank of gas. But then here was the hook: the employee admitted that A. he was a Southern Baptist preacher, B. he cooked Bar-B-Que for the gas station for fun, and finally C. he gave out free food to those who were hungry.
Dancing toe-to-toe with a Southern Fundamentalist preacher has always been an interesting conversation in my experience. Also, the fact that he practiced giving food to those who needed it sparked a light with me. So, I entered the conversation. I should have known his talking abilities (especially how long he could talk) would be great and powerful, but I joined the conversation anyway. He was chatting with the clerk of the gas station outside the gas station in the freezing cold and arguing his point about giving free food to those who were hungry. When he started talking about being touched by the Holy Spirit, I spoke up about the trinity: God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit. I felt confident that he saw the trinity otherwise, but he surprised me in saying, "exactly." Never had I ever had a point about theology line up with a Fundamentalist Southern Baptist. Always the joke amongst other denominations was that they were the backward ones. We kept talking and kept on agreeing on other things. I felt sure that eventually we were going to argue.
I brought up a topic that I thought I knew he would disagree with: the validity of other religions. Once again, I was wrong. He brought up the Old Testament and the declaration that God says that he is the Great "I am" when asked who he was. He brought up that God can have many names. He even said that Judaism, Islam and Buddhism and Hinduism all call upon Gods, but that God himself has admitted that he has many names. I was quite honestly, impressed and blown away by this declaration. I've always thought of Southern Baptists as extremists of hate. But, I was wrong.
I complemented him on the way he expressed his theology and faith and he told me that he had long experience with "spreading the good news" on the street corners in Chicago. I thought of all the cold days he did this. I thought of all the people who snuffed at his futile attempts. I thought of all the bitterness and disgust he would see from even people who considered themselves Christians but disagreed on the way some practice evangelism.
I have to admit, I snuffed at the word evangelism for a long while because I equated it with "Bible Beating." But lately, since I have found myself talking about religion more than anything else, I have even come to think of myself as an evangelist, albeit a reluctant one. My friends frequently say, "you're the most religious person I know." Even an atheist friend of mine, one of my dearest friends in Oxford, said to me one night when I was particularly bitter about the Church, "don't you dare give up your faith." Is that an omen, a God thump that keeps coming back to haunt me? Another friend drunkenly admitted to me that I might be the only person in the world who could talk to her about religion and convert her, because I didn't pity her ideas about Christianity. I didn't see her ideas about faith as a hindrance, a blind soul who needs the light of Christianity. And I don't. I see her, and other friends, as confused and hurt and doubting as I am.
A priest in my tradition is one who stays stationary, serving a particular church and a particular community. Maybe, for right now, I'm meant to be nomadic in preaching when people provoke me into religion. Maybe it's these conversations that are happening more and more the only way I've been able to keep my faith and not be entirely and completely cynical about the church. I don't need a collar to be priestly, I don't need an ordination to serve communities. I don't need vestments to show a symbol of what the church could mean. I just need conversations. I just need to be honest with my friends who, for some reason, seek me out when they feel that organized religion is old and flawed. Is this my calling? I don't know, but I think it's my calling for right now. And that is what matters.
I'm not going to lie and say I jumped to the occasion. To be frank, I was quite tired and a little irritated at the moment since I had just paid an exorbitant amount for a tank of gas. But then here was the hook: the employee admitted that A. he was a Southern Baptist preacher, B. he cooked Bar-B-Que for the gas station for fun, and finally C. he gave out free food to those who were hungry.
Dancing toe-to-toe with a Southern Fundamentalist preacher has always been an interesting conversation in my experience. Also, the fact that he practiced giving food to those who needed it sparked a light with me. So, I entered the conversation. I should have known his talking abilities (especially how long he could talk) would be great and powerful, but I joined the conversation anyway. He was chatting with the clerk of the gas station outside the gas station in the freezing cold and arguing his point about giving free food to those who were hungry. When he started talking about being touched by the Holy Spirit, I spoke up about the trinity: God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit. I felt confident that he saw the trinity otherwise, but he surprised me in saying, "exactly." Never had I ever had a point about theology line up with a Fundamentalist Southern Baptist. Always the joke amongst other denominations was that they were the backward ones. We kept talking and kept on agreeing on other things. I felt sure that eventually we were going to argue.
I brought up a topic that I thought I knew he would disagree with: the validity of other religions. Once again, I was wrong. He brought up the Old Testament and the declaration that God says that he is the Great "I am" when asked who he was. He brought up that God can have many names. He even said that Judaism, Islam and Buddhism and Hinduism all call upon Gods, but that God himself has admitted that he has many names. I was quite honestly, impressed and blown away by this declaration. I've always thought of Southern Baptists as extremists of hate. But, I was wrong.
I complemented him on the way he expressed his theology and faith and he told me that he had long experience with "spreading the good news" on the street corners in Chicago. I thought of all the cold days he did this. I thought of all the people who snuffed at his futile attempts. I thought of all the bitterness and disgust he would see from even people who considered themselves Christians but disagreed on the way some practice evangelism.
I have to admit, I snuffed at the word evangelism for a long while because I equated it with "Bible Beating." But lately, since I have found myself talking about religion more than anything else, I have even come to think of myself as an evangelist, albeit a reluctant one. My friends frequently say, "you're the most religious person I know." Even an atheist friend of mine, one of my dearest friends in Oxford, said to me one night when I was particularly bitter about the Church, "don't you dare give up your faith." Is that an omen, a God thump that keeps coming back to haunt me? Another friend drunkenly admitted to me that I might be the only person in the world who could talk to her about religion and convert her, because I didn't pity her ideas about Christianity. I didn't see her ideas about faith as a hindrance, a blind soul who needs the light of Christianity. And I don't. I see her, and other friends, as confused and hurt and doubting as I am.
A priest in my tradition is one who stays stationary, serving a particular church and a particular community. Maybe, for right now, I'm meant to be nomadic in preaching when people provoke me into religion. Maybe it's these conversations that are happening more and more the only way I've been able to keep my faith and not be entirely and completely cynical about the church. I don't need a collar to be priestly, I don't need an ordination to serve communities. I don't need vestments to show a symbol of what the church could mean. I just need conversations. I just need to be honest with my friends who, for some reason, seek me out when they feel that organized religion is old and flawed. Is this my calling? I don't know, but I think it's my calling for right now. And that is what matters.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
It's been a long December...
...and there's reason to believe that maybe this year will be better than the last...
I keep thinking that this month is December, although it is February. It's the coldest Winter I've ever experienced and usually the coldest month of the year is December, so I'm calling this Winter December Extended. Oxford, MS got ten inches of snow and it's colder here now than it has been for the past three years I've lived here. Yes, the title of this post is a Counting Crows song and it's been one stuck in my head since the beginning of December.
2010 was a rough/great year for me. I finished my Master's and I experienced life on the West Coast. I saw Lake Tahoe and the Sierra Mountains. I got a taste of the feeling of being thrown into a professional atmosphere, and promptly failed at rising to that occasion. I had to move back home to Mississippi and file for unemployment. Finally found a job at a bookstore and am now waiting to hear back from PhD programs that would start in the Fall.
There's a feeling I have that as rough as a start that January 2011 was for me, that it will get better. Yes, I still live with my Dad and that so far has been quite a challenge (I would say more on the subject, but he will probably read this, so I won't). Yes, it's been a hard thing to reconcile that I failed at doing something that I was enjoying so much. It's a hard experience to fail at anything, really. Being turned down from jobs and told I can't do things I love are two things I hate the most. My self-confidence in 2010 and early 2011 definitely took a hard hit.
Good thing I've always bounced back, and stronger when I do. Being resilient and stubborn is actually serving me quite well at the moment. I've got the gumption to go out, when all things seem like they're failing and say to myself, "I can make this happen." I follow up on leads for opportunities to serve and opportunities to get paid to do things I enjoy (for example, teaching guitar and writing). I find what I can do well and see how I can manage to get paid for it. That's what I do and how I roll...
...and hopefully the funk from 2010 and January 2011 will roll right off my back..
I keep thinking that this month is December, although it is February. It's the coldest Winter I've ever experienced and usually the coldest month of the year is December, so I'm calling this Winter December Extended. Oxford, MS got ten inches of snow and it's colder here now than it has been for the past three years I've lived here. Yes, the title of this post is a Counting Crows song and it's been one stuck in my head since the beginning of December.
2010 was a rough/great year for me. I finished my Master's and I experienced life on the West Coast. I saw Lake Tahoe and the Sierra Mountains. I got a taste of the feeling of being thrown into a professional atmosphere, and promptly failed at rising to that occasion. I had to move back home to Mississippi and file for unemployment. Finally found a job at a bookstore and am now waiting to hear back from PhD programs that would start in the Fall.
There's a feeling I have that as rough as a start that January 2011 was for me, that it will get better. Yes, I still live with my Dad and that so far has been quite a challenge (I would say more on the subject, but he will probably read this, so I won't). Yes, it's been a hard thing to reconcile that I failed at doing something that I was enjoying so much. It's a hard experience to fail at anything, really. Being turned down from jobs and told I can't do things I love are two things I hate the most. My self-confidence in 2010 and early 2011 definitely took a hard hit.
Good thing I've always bounced back, and stronger when I do. Being resilient and stubborn is actually serving me quite well at the moment. I've got the gumption to go out, when all things seem like they're failing and say to myself, "I can make this happen." I follow up on leads for opportunities to serve and opportunities to get paid to do things I enjoy (for example, teaching guitar and writing). I find what I can do well and see how I can manage to get paid for it. That's what I do and how I roll...
...and hopefully the funk from 2010 and January 2011 will roll right off my back..
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
I judge you by your bumper stickers...
I was driving behind a car with a 'coexist' sticker and a 'treehugging dirt worshiper' sticker and I thought to myself, "I might like to have coffee with this person." Then, it struck me. I judge most drivers by their bumper stickers. I think that might be a source of my road rage, because I do have a little bit of road rage, only expressed very eloquently. For example, if someone cuts me off on hwy 6, I say either in my head or outloud, "you clearly don't know your ass from your elbow. did your mother teach you proper anatomy or did you learn it from cinemax?"...
Ok... so maybe my road rage isn't expressed in that way. That was me trying to make myself not sound as angry as I actually am when I have road rage. But, what is true is that whenever someone makes me angry on the road, I immediately justify their stupidity by what bumper stickers/license plates they have.
I know, it's just as mean as racial profiling. It's even less predictable than that. I used to have a car that had a retired military license plate, but had every sticker from coexist to I love mountains to widespread panic to Sewanee to lazy magnolia beer. I had everyone on the road confused as hell. I'm pretty sure what would happen is that they'd see my bumper stickers and say, "this person is a bleeding liberal" as long as they were far away. Then, upon closer glance they'd see retired army plate and think, "maybe the military isn't all war-mongering jar heads." When finally they were passing me, I could even see their surprise and their relief/judging when they saw it was a 20 something woman wearing a leather safari hat with the windows down and a cigarette hanging from her left hand, blasting Arcade Fire or Joni Mitchell or Drake, depending on the mood.
Did my retired army plate get me out of traffic tickets? Yes. Did my coexist sticker coupled with a military tag get me disdained looks from other cars with retired military tags? Yes. These things I can't help. Did my array of stickers serve as a way for anyone in the town of Oxford to know exactly where I was during the day? Absolutely. I frequently got text messages saying, "hey, I saw your car on the square, whatcha up to?" If I liked you, that was exciting because we could hang out. If I was lukewarm about you, I'd be stuck. Do I reply about exactly what I'm doing? Where is this person? Are they gonna hollar at me when I leave the door of Ajax? Then it'd be awkward that I didn't respond to the text when they see me on the square. How many people saw my car and thought to themselves, "there's blount." Kinda made me uncomfortable. I pride myself on my stealth-like behavior.
I drive a different car now, but I won't tell you what so you'll never know where I am. And that, ultimately, is the way to keep yourself from being judged by your car. Keep a car clean of bumper stickers and have just a plain old license plate.
You're welcome for all this wisdom on road rage/discrimination by bumper stickers/personal story told through bumper stickers, etc.
Ok... so maybe my road rage isn't expressed in that way. That was me trying to make myself not sound as angry as I actually am when I have road rage. But, what is true is that whenever someone makes me angry on the road, I immediately justify their stupidity by what bumper stickers/license plates they have.
I know, it's just as mean as racial profiling. It's even less predictable than that. I used to have a car that had a retired military license plate, but had every sticker from coexist to I love mountains to widespread panic to Sewanee to lazy magnolia beer. I had everyone on the road confused as hell. I'm pretty sure what would happen is that they'd see my bumper stickers and say, "this person is a bleeding liberal" as long as they were far away. Then, upon closer glance they'd see retired army plate and think, "maybe the military isn't all war-mongering jar heads." When finally they were passing me, I could even see their surprise and their relief/judging when they saw it was a 20 something woman wearing a leather safari hat with the windows down and a cigarette hanging from her left hand, blasting Arcade Fire or Joni Mitchell or Drake, depending on the mood.
Did my retired army plate get me out of traffic tickets? Yes. Did my coexist sticker coupled with a military tag get me disdained looks from other cars with retired military tags? Yes. These things I can't help. Did my array of stickers serve as a way for anyone in the town of Oxford to know exactly where I was during the day? Absolutely. I frequently got text messages saying, "hey, I saw your car on the square, whatcha up to?" If I liked you, that was exciting because we could hang out. If I was lukewarm about you, I'd be stuck. Do I reply about exactly what I'm doing? Where is this person? Are they gonna hollar at me when I leave the door of Ajax? Then it'd be awkward that I didn't respond to the text when they see me on the square. How many people saw my car and thought to themselves, "there's blount." Kinda made me uncomfortable. I pride myself on my stealth-like behavior.
I drive a different car now, but I won't tell you what so you'll never know where I am. And that, ultimately, is the way to keep yourself from being judged by your car. Keep a car clean of bumper stickers and have just a plain old license plate.
You're welcome for all this wisdom on road rage/discrimination by bumper stickers/personal story told through bumper stickers, etc.
Monday, January 24, 2011
A Blount by any other name would...
Today I was struck by the many names I respond to. Most friends call me Blount (pronounced 'Blunt'), with the exception of friends who know me pre-1999 who call me by my first name, Margaret. The basketball team called me Cricket and the softball team, Margo. Oh, with also the exception of the folks who went back and forth between Margaret and Jocky (probably the weirdest name I've been called) from a camp from 1997-2001. Oh yeah, and don't forget the one person in the world who can get away with calling me 'Marge'... you're lucky I let you do that. Anyone else would be bruised with bandages. Wait, I forgot about senior year of high school when "Blountay" became popular due to a rather interesting story (which I won't retell here). Then in college out of nowhere came Blounty. Then we get to grad school and it's gotten shortened to 'B', which is a little confusing considering that a guy friend a good two feet taller than I also goes by 'B'.
I've also been called darlin, sunshine, sweetheart, sunshine, pistol, tiger, champ...
... the list goes on...
There's something odd when you look down the line of what you've been called over the years. Is it striking to remember why those nicknames come up? Are there certain things you did that sparked those names? For example, the basketball nickname of Cricket was sparked by the way I would jump start with a skip to run down the court. Kinda looked like a cricket apparently. Jocky was used because I was a Jock but needed a feminine twist other than calling me jock.
But, so many times, I feel like the essential question is, what do I WANT to be called? A friend of my Mom's one day on the way to a football game asked in jest, "Well, which personality should I go by this time." To a certain extent, I think we're allowed to do that depending on which name you want to go by. Before moving to California, I asked around to see if I should go back to Margaret. My best friend cornered me at a party and threatened my life if I didn't go by Blount. Not really. But she made a good argument and probably threatened me a little bit.
Picking a name, much like having the right to decide which restaurant is a matter of civil liberty. I've talked about first names and nicknames but what about last names? Traditionally, the last names we have aren't our own decision, at least the ones we are born with. But then, for some in this country, we have the opportunity to change our last names with the sacrament or ceremony of marriage. I say for some because that civil liberty is not extended to those in the LGBT community. And why? Because of the cry of Christian conservatives and Biblical literal translation. It's also a matter of discrimination due to fear and ignorance, in my opinion.
Last summer I had the opportunity to be involved with a camp called the Summer Youth Institute. It was a group of about 30 high school students who are seeking not only to learn more about the African-American Civil Rights movement in Mississippi but also gather tools to go back into their own communities to make a difference. As part of the program, a session with PFLAG (Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays) was worked into the schedule. A member of that panel was Constance McMillan. She made the news headlines because she wanted to wear a tux and bring her girlfriend as a date to her prom in Mississippi. When she spoke, she felt it was necessary to bash the bible beaters and use a blanket statement that all Christians were like that.
At this point I was forced into a weird decision: identifying myself as both a lesbian and a christian, I wanted those who identified in the LGBT community to know that it is possible to be both. I also wanted to keep the objective distance as a leader and not someone to bring the personal on the table. However, I ultimately made the decision to stand up and make a simple statement that being a Christian and a member of the gay community was not such an odd thing at all. Now, that was an uncomfortable situation for me. But it was necessary.
How many times have we as individuals chosen to not stand up for who we are, both in name and essence, when it's needed the most? When have we been silent for the sake of not making a ruckus when we should have spoken up? Collectively as a nation we did it in the African-American Civil Rights movement, but on an individual basis, we do it everyday. It's as simple as refusing to speak up with your own name. It's as simple as standing up for your essential liberties.
I am Margaret Blount Montgomery. I am a sister, I am a daughter, I am a Christian, I am a Young Adult, I am an American and more importantly I am a champion of making this world a better place.
Who are you?
I've also been called darlin, sunshine, sweetheart, sunshine, pistol, tiger, champ...
... the list goes on...
There's something odd when you look down the line of what you've been called over the years. Is it striking to remember why those nicknames come up? Are there certain things you did that sparked those names? For example, the basketball nickname of Cricket was sparked by the way I would jump start with a skip to run down the court. Kinda looked like a cricket apparently. Jocky was used because I was a Jock but needed a feminine twist other than calling me jock.
But, so many times, I feel like the essential question is, what do I WANT to be called? A friend of my Mom's one day on the way to a football game asked in jest, "Well, which personality should I go by this time." To a certain extent, I think we're allowed to do that depending on which name you want to go by. Before moving to California, I asked around to see if I should go back to Margaret. My best friend cornered me at a party and threatened my life if I didn't go by Blount. Not really. But she made a good argument and probably threatened me a little bit.
Picking a name, much like having the right to decide which restaurant is a matter of civil liberty. I've talked about first names and nicknames but what about last names? Traditionally, the last names we have aren't our own decision, at least the ones we are born with. But then, for some in this country, we have the opportunity to change our last names with the sacrament or ceremony of marriage. I say for some because that civil liberty is not extended to those in the LGBT community. And why? Because of the cry of Christian conservatives and Biblical literal translation. It's also a matter of discrimination due to fear and ignorance, in my opinion.
Last summer I had the opportunity to be involved with a camp called the Summer Youth Institute. It was a group of about 30 high school students who are seeking not only to learn more about the African-American Civil Rights movement in Mississippi but also gather tools to go back into their own communities to make a difference. As part of the program, a session with PFLAG (Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays) was worked into the schedule. A member of that panel was Constance McMillan. She made the news headlines because she wanted to wear a tux and bring her girlfriend as a date to her prom in Mississippi. When she spoke, she felt it was necessary to bash the bible beaters and use a blanket statement that all Christians were like that.
At this point I was forced into a weird decision: identifying myself as both a lesbian and a christian, I wanted those who identified in the LGBT community to know that it is possible to be both. I also wanted to keep the objective distance as a leader and not someone to bring the personal on the table. However, I ultimately made the decision to stand up and make a simple statement that being a Christian and a member of the gay community was not such an odd thing at all. Now, that was an uncomfortable situation for me. But it was necessary.
How many times have we as individuals chosen to not stand up for who we are, both in name and essence, when it's needed the most? When have we been silent for the sake of not making a ruckus when we should have spoken up? Collectively as a nation we did it in the African-American Civil Rights movement, but on an individual basis, we do it everyday. It's as simple as refusing to speak up with your own name. It's as simple as standing up for your essential liberties.
I am Margaret Blount Montgomery. I am a sister, I am a daughter, I am a Christian, I am a Young Adult, I am an American and more importantly I am a champion of making this world a better place.
Who are you?
Friday, January 21, 2011
Wake up in the mornin, strap shoes on my feet...
Lately, especially in this last week, my head does reruns. Not necessarily the kind of reruns you would see like "I love Lucy" or "Friends" or "Cheers" but instead reruns of the past. The flavor of this week is all the times I've fallen short in life. It seems my memory in particular is one that focuses on when I didn't do things in the right way. It seems as though it's harder for me to focus on positive things lately. And who blames me? I've just recently secured a job, temporary as it might be, which should be good news. It should be good news that I'm in Oxford, MS where I know a lot of people and am supported by my Dad and my friends. But there's the monster of not being able to finish my internship with the Episcopal Service Corps. There's the monster of knowing that I worried a lot of people. There are several monsters hiding underneath my bed and what do I do about them? When I was a little kid, it was easy... I just said "Our Father..." and eventually went to sleep. But I'm not a little kid anymore. I'm 25 and should be able to look underneath my bed, realize it's just a bunch of dust bunnies and let it go.
Problem is, I can't seem to shake it off these days. I've never been good at shaking off past events when they were particularly embarrassing or they hurt my pride.
We are living in a time when our nation's pride has been hurting for a while. People are still losing jobs. And I'm sure they have reruns in their minds too. They think of what they didn't do right. They think of all the people that they let down. However, things seem to be on the up and up but it's hard to see economic trends when you're waiting for an unemployment check or medicare or medicaid to help you out.
What is it about being vulnerable and asking for help such as unemployment checks that keeps us thinking that we're failures? Is it our country's founding on individualistic ideals? The idea that we should be able by sheer will to make our lives better? I've heard people who are against unemployment benefits say that people should just get off their couches and get a job. In this country and in most places, I would say, "what job?" They seem to be disappearing. Where did they go?
Living in the Bible Belt of America, there are some that insist that praying will solve everything. Praying will get you a job. Praying will take the hurt away. There has been a lot of praying going on these days. Is it solving anything? I'm not sure. It's hard to see the good that's happening when bad news hits from all sides. Even if there is a silver lining, the darkness of bad news seems to overcome it.
So what do you do? Do you say that there's a reason for everything? I've always taken great person offense to that with genocide and hurricanes and other natural and man made disasters taking many lives.
Or is our problem that we keep thinking about the past and the future and not today? Is our problem that we're not focused on what we're doing and doing it well? I was looking at a discussion that uses the following quote from Barbara Brown Taylor. I think that is the answer that we're looking for. To be here in the now and ask ourselves, "what should I be doing, right now?" instead of "what am I going to do" or "what have I done."
"Every morning when you wake up, decide to live the life God has given you to live right now. Refuse to live yesterday over and over again. Resist the temptation to save your best self for tomorrow...Live a caught-up life, not a put-off life, so that wherever you are...you are ready for God." Barbara Brown Taylor
History Lesson.
My Dad and I went to go see the King's Speech in the theater the other day. For those of you not familiar with the premise, it was that a Prince of England affectionately called Bertie, suffering from a speech impediment, must learn to overcome that speech impediment in order to lead his country. This is all set during the beginning of World War II, when Hitler was just starting his rise and quest to conquer the world. For those who aren't history buffs (and I am, in fact so much that I'm pursuing a PhD in History), the British were trying to figure out exactly what Hitler wanted. Neville Chamberlain (not to be confused with Neville Longbottom from Harry Potter), the current Prime Minister, took an action of appeasement to Hitler. Winston Churchill, on the other hand, felt the need to rise up and fight the Germans. All while this shift of power from Neville to Winston, the Germans were bombing Britain. This country, the United States of America, seems to be always on the cautious side of entering war. Why is that?
With World War II, there was a great deal of debate before the US entered the war. Many had the opinion that we didn't need to stick our nose in other people's business. That is, until Pearl Harbor. Then we got angry and united enough to support the war. I'm sure that there were some people who opposed the world war, but they were mainly called communists and were dealt with in their own way. Meanwhile in this country, we took people who had immigrated here from Japan and Germany and started to interrogate them heavily to find out if they were in alliance with the enemy.
If this sounds familiar to you, the act of figuring out who exactly is the enemy and interrogating them and locking them all away in a single place, it's because that has been the history of the world dealing with war. Those who might be in allegiance with the enemy are segregated from society for the society's own good. Those who are segregated are treated badly, and suffer mentally from such segregation as well as physically. There is something about being told that you are the opposite of what a larger group wants and are distrusted, that regardless of what you believe and can prove, that damages the soul.
Major shift change is about to happen here, so brace yourself.
How should we treat enemies? Is it right to segregate them from society in situations that are intolerable to them physically and mentally? The history of the world, the earthly existence, says yes, yes we should. Society should not be exposed to that kind of horror, regardless of whether the individual is guilty or not.
But is this earthly world the only judgment on how to treat those who might be dangerous? Here's where the shift from History to Religion begins. The Romans, when they were in power in Europe and most of the "Civilized World" treated the Jews as enemies. They wanted to stop every revolution because that would upset their title as the world power. There were facets of the Jews who said, "let's get these Romans back for what they've done to our community." This was started way before Jesus was born. Then, there was all this talk about a Messiah. Now, the Romans didn't quite get what that meant for the Messiah to be in the world. They mostly thought of a leader in terms that the Romans understood, which is a emperor who will conquer the world. The Jews didn't quite understand the Jesus take on the Messiah as well. Even the disciples were profoundly stupid when it came to many of the parables and teachings.
My favorite disciple in the New Testament is Judas. There are some Christians still who treat Judas as the ultimate enemy, the one who betrayed the Messiah in the ultimate way. I've always been curious as to the question, "why Judas?" There were plenty of people who could have been the one who finally turned Jesus in. There were many in the inner circle. Judas was part of the Jewish population that saw the Messiah as a leader to throw the Romans off the Jewish collective back. And, according to some theologians and historians, Judas was the closest to Jesus. So, why would you choose your best friend to be the one who betrays you? Why would God allow that to happen? How could Jesus have said that "one of you will betray me tonight" and NOT know that it was Judas. In my opinion, Jesus knew that Judas was going to be the one. Maybe the plan all the long was that Judas was going to be that person who played that role. I can't imagine the pain of having a good friend betray you, but we've all felt like that for some reason or another.
I'm not arguing that we should let our 'enemies' on Earth destroy us and kill us and not do anything about it. I'm just arguing that if we're going to take a page from the New Testament and actually think it through, we should start wondering about how we should treat our enemies in our hearts and be open to understanding why exactly they are doing what they are doing. We should treat them as we wish to be treated....
.... which isn't a new idea at all....
With World War II, there was a great deal of debate before the US entered the war. Many had the opinion that we didn't need to stick our nose in other people's business. That is, until Pearl Harbor. Then we got angry and united enough to support the war. I'm sure that there were some people who opposed the world war, but they were mainly called communists and were dealt with in their own way. Meanwhile in this country, we took people who had immigrated here from Japan and Germany and started to interrogate them heavily to find out if they were in alliance with the enemy.
If this sounds familiar to you, the act of figuring out who exactly is the enemy and interrogating them and locking them all away in a single place, it's because that has been the history of the world dealing with war. Those who might be in allegiance with the enemy are segregated from society for the society's own good. Those who are segregated are treated badly, and suffer mentally from such segregation as well as physically. There is something about being told that you are the opposite of what a larger group wants and are distrusted, that regardless of what you believe and can prove, that damages the soul.
Major shift change is about to happen here, so brace yourself.
How should we treat enemies? Is it right to segregate them from society in situations that are intolerable to them physically and mentally? The history of the world, the earthly existence, says yes, yes we should. Society should not be exposed to that kind of horror, regardless of whether the individual is guilty or not.
But is this earthly world the only judgment on how to treat those who might be dangerous? Here's where the shift from History to Religion begins. The Romans, when they were in power in Europe and most of the "Civilized World" treated the Jews as enemies. They wanted to stop every revolution because that would upset their title as the world power. There were facets of the Jews who said, "let's get these Romans back for what they've done to our community." This was started way before Jesus was born. Then, there was all this talk about a Messiah. Now, the Romans didn't quite get what that meant for the Messiah to be in the world. They mostly thought of a leader in terms that the Romans understood, which is a emperor who will conquer the world. The Jews didn't quite understand the Jesus take on the Messiah as well. Even the disciples were profoundly stupid when it came to many of the parables and teachings.
My favorite disciple in the New Testament is Judas. There are some Christians still who treat Judas as the ultimate enemy, the one who betrayed the Messiah in the ultimate way. I've always been curious as to the question, "why Judas?" There were plenty of people who could have been the one who finally turned Jesus in. There were many in the inner circle. Judas was part of the Jewish population that saw the Messiah as a leader to throw the Romans off the Jewish collective back. And, according to some theologians and historians, Judas was the closest to Jesus. So, why would you choose your best friend to be the one who betrays you? Why would God allow that to happen? How could Jesus have said that "one of you will betray me tonight" and NOT know that it was Judas. In my opinion, Jesus knew that Judas was going to be the one. Maybe the plan all the long was that Judas was going to be that person who played that role. I can't imagine the pain of having a good friend betray you, but we've all felt like that for some reason or another.
I'm not arguing that we should let our 'enemies' on Earth destroy us and kill us and not do anything about it. I'm just arguing that if we're going to take a page from the New Testament and actually think it through, we should start wondering about how we should treat our enemies in our hearts and be open to understanding why exactly they are doing what they are doing. We should treat them as we wish to be treated....
.... which isn't a new idea at all....
Sometimes it takes time (or so I've been told).
There's been a slew of these last few months being told that, "now's not the right time." There's been a slew of being told I'm not quite the right person. There's been a slew of, "maybe if things were different" and even, "maybe if you were different."
To me, that's too many slews. Way too many slews can get you in a funk in my opinion. When slews overwhelm a person, it's hard to keep the bright side of things in perspective. It's hard to remember what you're actually good at. It's hard to realize that people know who you are and care about you. As you are. Even when things aren't the best of times for you. And more importantly, it's damaging when the slews are coming from places that know you're a good person. It's hard to hear, "we're turning you away for your own good." It's very hard to realize that sometimes, that's the Church (once again I'm making a big 'C' distinction for the wider church and Christianity in general).
I've gone back and forth on believing the church is where I ought to be. When I hear those slews brewing from the churches I belong to, I shut down. I might put on a good face, but I shut down. It's too hard for me to reconcile a place that has a mission to be Christ-like can be so cold and shut its doors. What do you risk by keeping your doors at least figuratively open? What is wrong with allowing people of all backgrounds, of all ailments, of all issues, to come into your doors and seek at least SOME good news. There is a slew of bad news in this world. There are deaths, there are tragedies, there are personal issues and we've been told (at least in a small way) that the church is a place where you can bring those things and lift them up to God. More and more I am tempted to say, I can do that without a church and some of the hypocrisy.
Why do I need a church community when I have friends outside of the church who play poker? Why do I need a church community when I can go to a bar and see people I know who want to hear about what's happening in my life and don't give a damn if I'm in a bad mood or not? I've got plenty of communities, and took church as a community seriously. But apparently for me and some of my friends, the church as a community isn't taking us seriously.
I think it's just so hard when I feel committed to the Episcopal Church and there's at least an impression of the Episcopal Church not being committed to me. Like with any good commitment, it's a two way street. Bad times, good times, times in between.
I used to get so angry when people would say, "this is just a time of God testing you." I think rather, it's a time of me giving the Church an exam and they're failing it miserably. And any good professor would be faced with this decision in that situation: do you give up on the student who continuously falls short or do you go out of your way to help them. Well, I'm tempted to give up on this student. Tempted that is. Not decided. The Church might need to show some improvement first.
To me, that's too many slews. Way too many slews can get you in a funk in my opinion. When slews overwhelm a person, it's hard to keep the bright side of things in perspective. It's hard to remember what you're actually good at. It's hard to realize that people know who you are and care about you. As you are. Even when things aren't the best of times for you. And more importantly, it's damaging when the slews are coming from places that know you're a good person. It's hard to hear, "we're turning you away for your own good." It's very hard to realize that sometimes, that's the Church (once again I'm making a big 'C' distinction for the wider church and Christianity in general).
I've gone back and forth on believing the church is where I ought to be. When I hear those slews brewing from the churches I belong to, I shut down. I might put on a good face, but I shut down. It's too hard for me to reconcile a place that has a mission to be Christ-like can be so cold and shut its doors. What do you risk by keeping your doors at least figuratively open? What is wrong with allowing people of all backgrounds, of all ailments, of all issues, to come into your doors and seek at least SOME good news. There is a slew of bad news in this world. There are deaths, there are tragedies, there are personal issues and we've been told (at least in a small way) that the church is a place where you can bring those things and lift them up to God. More and more I am tempted to say, I can do that without a church and some of the hypocrisy.
Why do I need a church community when I have friends outside of the church who play poker? Why do I need a church community when I can go to a bar and see people I know who want to hear about what's happening in my life and don't give a damn if I'm in a bad mood or not? I've got plenty of communities, and took church as a community seriously. But apparently for me and some of my friends, the church as a community isn't taking us seriously.
I think it's just so hard when I feel committed to the Episcopal Church and there's at least an impression of the Episcopal Church not being committed to me. Like with any good commitment, it's a two way street. Bad times, good times, times in between.
I used to get so angry when people would say, "this is just a time of God testing you." I think rather, it's a time of me giving the Church an exam and they're failing it miserably. And any good professor would be faced with this decision in that situation: do you give up on the student who continuously falls short or do you go out of your way to help them. Well, I'm tempted to give up on this student. Tempted that is. Not decided. The Church might need to show some improvement first.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
I guess sometimes I DO have luck
Today's post was going to be, "If I didn't have bad luck, I would have no luck at all"... a quote from a Koko Taylor cover of an older blues song. I guess I should revise that idea for a post because today... (drumroll please) I FINALLY got a job. Here's how that happened...
While waiting for the Brown Bag Lecture series (a series that happens with the Center for the Study of Southern Culture) that happens to be about home brewing beer (something that I've been thinking about taking up as a hobby), I stopped by Barnes and Noble on the University of Mississippi's campus to follow up on an application for employment there. I thought that my old employer, Square Books, might take me on, but when I went to get coffee there this morning, I found out they were training two new employees, which I took (in my very perceptive mind) to mean I did not in fact get the job back at Square Books. So, since I was in the area of the Campus Union (where Barnes and Noble on campus is), I stopped by to follow up on an application. And, got a job promptly. I start this weekend.
Boooyah.
While waiting for the Brown Bag Lecture series (a series that happens with the Center for the Study of Southern Culture) that happens to be about home brewing beer (something that I've been thinking about taking up as a hobby), I stopped by Barnes and Noble on the University of Mississippi's campus to follow up on an application for employment there. I thought that my old employer, Square Books, might take me on, but when I went to get coffee there this morning, I found out they were training two new employees, which I took (in my very perceptive mind) to mean I did not in fact get the job back at Square Books. So, since I was in the area of the Campus Union (where Barnes and Noble on campus is), I stopped by to follow up on an application. And, got a job promptly. I start this weekend.
Boooyah.
Monday, January 17, 2011
I believe in the Church, just not your churches...
Gandhi was quoted once (at least I've seen it on a bumper sticker) with "I like your Christ, but not your Christians. I wish your Christians would be more like your Christ"... or something along those lines.
Likewise, I would say, "I believe in Church, just not your churches." It is a dismaying thing to sit down and realize that there are few churches that I would call home. In my home state there aren't many places where there are more than one Episcopal church. Which leaves me with one option, if I want to stay in the Episcopal church (which I do). The problem with this is that not all churches are entirely welcoming and warm to young adults. Even some with college ministries (if you're lucky) aren't open. My Mom once wrote an article for the Mississippi Episcopalian entitled, "Episcopals are the frozen chosen ones." There's something to that argument, I feel. Now, many people my age and older are giving me the response, "what then can we do to alleviate that problem?" and the answer is, "I don't know, but it has to change."
I've been reading a book lately called "Ancient Faith, Future Mission" edited by Steven Croft. I picked it on a whim, but it really talks about the problem that churches, specifically Episcopal (and by Episcopal I mean the Anglican church in America) churches have. We're just all assuming that everyone should be Christian and if you're not a Christian, we don't care. That is, in my opinion, the greater American attitude. I can't tell you how many times I have heard the argument, "America is a Christian nation." As a student of history (I have my bachelor's degree in American History) I can definitely say that America was founded on deism, with the opinion that whatever your religion (it just so happened to be that most people were Christian), you could practice it. Now, then the colonists encountered the Native Americans, who weren't Christian, and thus they were discriminated against. Hypocritical? Yes. But it seems that's the American way.
But back to my denomination. So the Episcopal church is very inward focused. They mostly (and I'm making a blanket statement here) have the same opinion as most Christians in America do, which is, "If you're not Episcopal, you don't belong here." There are a few exceptions made for people who have the guts to walk into an Episcopal church (which in the South usually means you're "well to do") and stick out the odd stares they get. I once on an Ash Wednesday was asked to move to another pew in the church by an older man because "I was in his seat." What?! Isn't there a bit in the scripture about hospitality and being humble and inclusive? No, according to this old gentlemen. And to be honest, that was the reason I didn't attend the rest of Holy Week's services.
That is the exact opposite of what Christians are called to do. The church is not your social club. The church is not a place where you have assigned seats. It's a church of God and God is not discriminating, unless you want to revoke what I learned in Sunday School. If that is the case, that God and Christians discriminate, have assigned seats, snear at people who show up to the sanctuary because they're not dressed properly, then I want no part of that church. That breaks my heart, but that's the truth.
In high school, I attended a friend's child's baptism. At said baptism I wrote a poem about the perspective of a drunk showing up at an Episcopal church, who was seeing it as his first time in a church. I wrote about priests and their vestments as cross-dressers with beards. I wrote about the man not liking the host (the bread blessed as Jesus' flesh) but loving his blood (the wine blessed as Jesus' blood). I wrote about a child acolyte handling incense as a child would do tricks with a yo-yo. It seems that even when I was an established Episcopalian, I could see the perspective of the marginalized in church.
About five years back, I once again had a revelation about the marginalized in the Episcopal church. I had a dream that I woke up in the choir loft of my home parish, which was at the time an Episcopal church in Pass Christian, MS. In most choir lofts in churches in the South during the 60s, those spaces were reserved for Black people to be segregated as second class church-goers. I woke up in a bed in the choir loft surrounded by Black people and immediately assessed that I was not welcome there. So, in my dream, I jumped down from the choir loft. As I walked down the aisle of the church, behind the altar, where elements (bread and wine) are blessed as sacraments, I noticed something odd. The walls were replaced by video images (much like the videos lined up in one of the Matrix movies). What was even more harrowing was that these images behind the altar were of different segments of my life. Now, I'm no dream analyst, but to me that speaks pretty powerfully that even though I am marginalized and discriminated against in the Episcopal church, I have a place in it somewhere, and in my opinion, that place will eventually be serving the sacrament to those who feel they have no place in the Episcopal church.
In summary, I believe in Church in its original theory. I believe in a community constantly challenging itself to be more inclusive, welcoming and Christlike. What I don't believe in are most churches that are by the looks of it, just another social club that takes on the ritual as a hobby. I am tired of people taking Christianity on as a hobby. I am tired of the Episcopal church as I see it to be a networking tool and a social club. The only thing I like about the Episcopal church right now is the Eucharist. That is the sacrament (an outward sign of an inward and invisible grace) that ties us (in theory) all together.
I have been burned enough by individual churches and Christians in general to make me want to become an atheist. And that's the honest truth.
Likewise, I would say, "I believe in Church, just not your churches." It is a dismaying thing to sit down and realize that there are few churches that I would call home. In my home state there aren't many places where there are more than one Episcopal church. Which leaves me with one option, if I want to stay in the Episcopal church (which I do). The problem with this is that not all churches are entirely welcoming and warm to young adults. Even some with college ministries (if you're lucky) aren't open. My Mom once wrote an article for the Mississippi Episcopalian entitled, "Episcopals are the frozen chosen ones." There's something to that argument, I feel. Now, many people my age and older are giving me the response, "what then can we do to alleviate that problem?" and the answer is, "I don't know, but it has to change."
I've been reading a book lately called "Ancient Faith, Future Mission" edited by Steven Croft. I picked it on a whim, but it really talks about the problem that churches, specifically Episcopal (and by Episcopal I mean the Anglican church in America) churches have. We're just all assuming that everyone should be Christian and if you're not a Christian, we don't care. That is, in my opinion, the greater American attitude. I can't tell you how many times I have heard the argument, "America is a Christian nation." As a student of history (I have my bachelor's degree in American History) I can definitely say that America was founded on deism, with the opinion that whatever your religion (it just so happened to be that most people were Christian), you could practice it. Now, then the colonists encountered the Native Americans, who weren't Christian, and thus they were discriminated against. Hypocritical? Yes. But it seems that's the American way.
But back to my denomination. So the Episcopal church is very inward focused. They mostly (and I'm making a blanket statement here) have the same opinion as most Christians in America do, which is, "If you're not Episcopal, you don't belong here." There are a few exceptions made for people who have the guts to walk into an Episcopal church (which in the South usually means you're "well to do") and stick out the odd stares they get. I once on an Ash Wednesday was asked to move to another pew in the church by an older man because "I was in his seat." What?! Isn't there a bit in the scripture about hospitality and being humble and inclusive? No, according to this old gentlemen. And to be honest, that was the reason I didn't attend the rest of Holy Week's services.
That is the exact opposite of what Christians are called to do. The church is not your social club. The church is not a place where you have assigned seats. It's a church of God and God is not discriminating, unless you want to revoke what I learned in Sunday School. If that is the case, that God and Christians discriminate, have assigned seats, snear at people who show up to the sanctuary because they're not dressed properly, then I want no part of that church. That breaks my heart, but that's the truth.
In high school, I attended a friend's child's baptism. At said baptism I wrote a poem about the perspective of a drunk showing up at an Episcopal church, who was seeing it as his first time in a church. I wrote about priests and their vestments as cross-dressers with beards. I wrote about the man not liking the host (the bread blessed as Jesus' flesh) but loving his blood (the wine blessed as Jesus' blood). I wrote about a child acolyte handling incense as a child would do tricks with a yo-yo. It seems that even when I was an established Episcopalian, I could see the perspective of the marginalized in church.
About five years back, I once again had a revelation about the marginalized in the Episcopal church. I had a dream that I woke up in the choir loft of my home parish, which was at the time an Episcopal church in Pass Christian, MS. In most choir lofts in churches in the South during the 60s, those spaces were reserved for Black people to be segregated as second class church-goers. I woke up in a bed in the choir loft surrounded by Black people and immediately assessed that I was not welcome there. So, in my dream, I jumped down from the choir loft. As I walked down the aisle of the church, behind the altar, where elements (bread and wine) are blessed as sacraments, I noticed something odd. The walls were replaced by video images (much like the videos lined up in one of the Matrix movies). What was even more harrowing was that these images behind the altar were of different segments of my life. Now, I'm no dream analyst, but to me that speaks pretty powerfully that even though I am marginalized and discriminated against in the Episcopal church, I have a place in it somewhere, and in my opinion, that place will eventually be serving the sacrament to those who feel they have no place in the Episcopal church.
In summary, I believe in Church in its original theory. I believe in a community constantly challenging itself to be more inclusive, welcoming and Christlike. What I don't believe in are most churches that are by the looks of it, just another social club that takes on the ritual as a hobby. I am tired of people taking Christianity on as a hobby. I am tired of the Episcopal church as I see it to be a networking tool and a social club. The only thing I like about the Episcopal church right now is the Eucharist. That is the sacrament (an outward sign of an inward and invisible grace) that ties us (in theory) all together.
I have been burned enough by individual churches and Christians in general to make me want to become an atheist. And that's the honest truth.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
A whole new world...
... and I'm not quoting from Disney's Alladin (although now I have a hankerin to watch that movie)...
... coffee (in moderation, of course) has been allowed back into my life, which is AWESOME!
Things that are awesome that happened today:
A. Updated Garage Band to have the computer instruments updated (I can now do loops of my guitar with piano- although I have no idea how to play piano, it's pretty much trial and error on that one)
B. Got some reading done on "How to Believe in God whether you believe in Religion or not"- a good book and I've met the author (he signed my copy) and an interesting argument.. that God is not defined as religion.
C. Played some guitar and did some video editing.
D. The snow is finally gone in Oxford, MS.. leaving behind mud, but I can deal with that.
E. Am making plans to visit people outside of Oxford, MS to maintain my positive outlook on life (watch out Atlanta, Birmingham and Sewanee- I've got my eyes set on you)
F. Dad is behaving better. Maybe old dogs can learn new tricks (this has yet to be seen for conclusive evidence)
G. It's a lazy Sunday
I think that's a pretty good list and I think I could go on. Also, I've come to the conclusion that someone has got to employ me soon because I'm spending too much time thinking- which always has gotten me in trouble. Whomp whomp.
Here I will leave you with link to my vimeo page, a sunset at Camp Bratton Green... a place that I continue to see evolving in a way that can reach young and old.. The music is Patrick Sanders, my old Youth Minister who is now a priest in Southaven (sp?) when he was making music for Kinder Melody, a group of camp musicians. And the filming and editing was done my me. Yipee for too much time on my hands. At least I'm being somewhat productive.
... coffee (in moderation, of course) has been allowed back into my life, which is AWESOME!
Things that are awesome that happened today:
A. Updated Garage Band to have the computer instruments updated (I can now do loops of my guitar with piano- although I have no idea how to play piano, it's pretty much trial and error on that one)
B. Got some reading done on "How to Believe in God whether you believe in Religion or not"- a good book and I've met the author (he signed my copy) and an interesting argument.. that God is not defined as religion.
C. Played some guitar and did some video editing.
D. The snow is finally gone in Oxford, MS.. leaving behind mud, but I can deal with that.
E. Am making plans to visit people outside of Oxford, MS to maintain my positive outlook on life (watch out Atlanta, Birmingham and Sewanee- I've got my eyes set on you)
F. Dad is behaving better. Maybe old dogs can learn new tricks (this has yet to be seen for conclusive evidence)
G. It's a lazy Sunday
I think that's a pretty good list and I think I could go on. Also, I've come to the conclusion that someone has got to employ me soon because I'm spending too much time thinking- which always has gotten me in trouble. Whomp whomp.
Here I will leave you with link to my vimeo page, a sunset at Camp Bratton Green... a place that I continue to see evolving in a way that can reach young and old.. The music is Patrick Sanders, my old Youth Minister who is now a priest in Southaven (sp?) when he was making music for Kinder Melody, a group of camp musicians. And the filming and editing was done my me. Yipee for too much time on my hands. At least I'm being somewhat productive.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
We are... Drifting away...
From an early age in the church I have been approached and asked, "have you ever considered the priesthood?" As a youth, I pursued finding out what that would actually mean. I had several priests that I considered friends and they gave me real answers as to what a profession in the priesthood looks like. It is by all means not a glorious profession. It means hard work and constant challenges. It means being there for people in the most joyous periods of their lives as well as the most sorrowful. It means trying your hardest to be for your congregation an example of what a life striving to be Christian means. And, as a Christian, that means having doubts and praying and being a guiding force for others channeling the guiding force in Christianity, the Trinity of God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit.
As I approached young adulthood, through the self realization that I identified as a lesbian, I gave up on pursuing the discernment of whether the priesthood would be for me. This was around the time when Gene Robinson was consecrated Bishop of New Hampshire. Bishop Robinson is an openly gay man. This caused the period of serious questioning in the church and all churches about the 'place' of homosexuals in the church. I saw the angry nature of people in the church come out in ways that scared me. I read about accounts where more and more people were willing to become violent in their expression that homosexuals do not belong in the church. I wanted no part of representing something that people were so hurt and conflicted with. The way Christians were acting was not at all Christ-like and that caused disillusion for me with the church. I think that also caused disillusionment for those my same age.
So, many of us in our young adulthood decided that we could live without the church. I have definitely come to this conclusion time and time again when I felt that the church had no place for me. We decided living a life righteously did not necessarily entail attending Sunday services. Because of this disillusionment, I believe that the church should fight to prove that we as young adults need the church. This is not to say that the church necessarily needs to have facebook pages and start bending itself to become as appealing as new albums by artists that we adore as young adults. I sincerely believe that if the church just attempted to be what it is called to be, then we would find ourselves coming back.
The problem for me and many my age is that the church isn't living up to what it seemed to be when we were younger. We were allowed to be who we were and the church (for the most part) accepted that. But then we became old enough to see the politics of churches, the selfishness, the cutthroat attitudes and bitter self-righteousness, we decided it wasn't safe or beneficial anymore.
The irony of my situation and of a minority of young adults my age is that we have a genuine passion for the church but the church does not believe in us. I believe that one day I will be ordained as a priest. Others believe in the church, just not the church right now. And with me, the question is whether the church believes in me, the me of the moment, the me that is 25 and struggling to find myself and be good to those around me. At the moment, I am tempted to say that the church does not believe in me. So, be careful church, you might just lose me. And others my age.
As I approached young adulthood, through the self realization that I identified as a lesbian, I gave up on pursuing the discernment of whether the priesthood would be for me. This was around the time when Gene Robinson was consecrated Bishop of New Hampshire. Bishop Robinson is an openly gay man. This caused the period of serious questioning in the church and all churches about the 'place' of homosexuals in the church. I saw the angry nature of people in the church come out in ways that scared me. I read about accounts where more and more people were willing to become violent in their expression that homosexuals do not belong in the church. I wanted no part of representing something that people were so hurt and conflicted with. The way Christians were acting was not at all Christ-like and that caused disillusion for me with the church. I think that also caused disillusionment for those my same age.
So, many of us in our young adulthood decided that we could live without the church. I have definitely come to this conclusion time and time again when I felt that the church had no place for me. We decided living a life righteously did not necessarily entail attending Sunday services. Because of this disillusionment, I believe that the church should fight to prove that we as young adults need the church. This is not to say that the church necessarily needs to have facebook pages and start bending itself to become as appealing as new albums by artists that we adore as young adults. I sincerely believe that if the church just attempted to be what it is called to be, then we would find ourselves coming back.
The problem for me and many my age is that the church isn't living up to what it seemed to be when we were younger. We were allowed to be who we were and the church (for the most part) accepted that. But then we became old enough to see the politics of churches, the selfishness, the cutthroat attitudes and bitter self-righteousness, we decided it wasn't safe or beneficial anymore.
The irony of my situation and of a minority of young adults my age is that we have a genuine passion for the church but the church does not believe in us. I believe that one day I will be ordained as a priest. Others believe in the church, just not the church right now. And with me, the question is whether the church believes in me, the me of the moment, the me that is 25 and struggling to find myself and be good to those around me. At the moment, I am tempted to say that the church does not believe in me. So, be careful church, you might just lose me. And others my age.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Grief
We all deal with grief in our lives, some sooner than others. As a young adult, I've come to see many ways that people deal with grief. Some drown their sorrows in alcohol. Some become more reclusive and some just want to distract themselves by being with their friends. The weird thing about grief is that there's no period of life when it "hits" you. But, young adults begin to see the older people in their lives who have been people they look up to age and pass away. Grandparents and parents and teachers and priests and sometimes friends all start to show aging in a way that is hard to deal with.
At age 24, I lost my last Grandparent. My Grandmother was not the kindest of women. She wasn't the grandparent who would bake cookies and pinch your cheeks. She was more of the southern grandmother who would use the phrase, "I'm gonna snatch you baldheaded." Needless to say, she wasn't a big part of my life mainly for the purposes of keeping my hair on my head. When she passed away, I expected that I would be fine with it. I had an assistantship to help me pay for grad school at the time and I found myself at the desk in my office trying to keep from crying. I then, naturally, over-analyzed things and told myself that it was because I was mourning the last grandparent standing. Eventually though, I just came to the realization of many things at once. One, that as mean spirited as my Grandmother was, she loved me. Two, that I only once sat down with her and asked about her life and how she met my Grandfather and what her family life was like. Also, I realized that even though I never was too fond of her, I was very grateful for her giving birth to one of the most giving and kind individuals I've ever known. My Mom.
Also, I began to see aging taking its ultimate toll on a life. And because we're not all guaranteed a long life, death and what death means became a reality for me, a God thump if you will. I've always heard people say things like, "you never know when you're gonna go, so live life while you got it." For me, and many others, living life means counting milestones. I've considered a major milestone turning 25.
When I turned 25, I felt it. I began to see myself as an adult and was officially considered one, according to most of society. I could officially rent a car on my own. I had things to deal with such as finding a job post my Masters degree. I began to start using excell to chart my expenses, something I never did in undergrad. I also started to really get the itch to at least take romantic pursuits a bit more seriously. The process of not looking at someone to be some fun, but actually evaluate if a life long commitment is possible is something that can at first be shocking. Over all of this, I felt duped by my friends who are older than I am as if they were hiding this secret change-over from me. I kept finding myself saying, "why didn't y'all tell me about this?"
So, friends, why in the hell did you not tell me 25 was going to be like this? hmm. Explain yourselves.
At age 24, I lost my last Grandparent. My Grandmother was not the kindest of women. She wasn't the grandparent who would bake cookies and pinch your cheeks. She was more of the southern grandmother who would use the phrase, "I'm gonna snatch you baldheaded." Needless to say, she wasn't a big part of my life mainly for the purposes of keeping my hair on my head. When she passed away, I expected that I would be fine with it. I had an assistantship to help me pay for grad school at the time and I found myself at the desk in my office trying to keep from crying. I then, naturally, over-analyzed things and told myself that it was because I was mourning the last grandparent standing. Eventually though, I just came to the realization of many things at once. One, that as mean spirited as my Grandmother was, she loved me. Two, that I only once sat down with her and asked about her life and how she met my Grandfather and what her family life was like. Also, I realized that even though I never was too fond of her, I was very grateful for her giving birth to one of the most giving and kind individuals I've ever known. My Mom.
Also, I began to see aging taking its ultimate toll on a life. And because we're not all guaranteed a long life, death and what death means became a reality for me, a God thump if you will. I've always heard people say things like, "you never know when you're gonna go, so live life while you got it." For me, and many others, living life means counting milestones. I've considered a major milestone turning 25.
When I turned 25, I felt it. I began to see myself as an adult and was officially considered one, according to most of society. I could officially rent a car on my own. I had things to deal with such as finding a job post my Masters degree. I began to start using excell to chart my expenses, something I never did in undergrad. I also started to really get the itch to at least take romantic pursuits a bit more seriously. The process of not looking at someone to be some fun, but actually evaluate if a life long commitment is possible is something that can at first be shocking. Over all of this, I felt duped by my friends who are older than I am as if they were hiding this secret change-over from me. I kept finding myself saying, "why didn't y'all tell me about this?"
So, friends, why in the hell did you not tell me 25 was going to be like this? hmm. Explain yourselves.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Why So Serious?
So, looking back on my previous posts, I realize that I'm being wayyyy too serious on this blog lately. It's understandable since I'm in limbo about a lot of things like jobs and grad school (phD programs) and several e-mails that I think might land me back on my feet. Still waiting on a lot of stuff... but have decided it'd be much more fun to listen to a little bit of Ke$ha and Beyonce while writing this post.
It's still a little hard, even with "Single Ladies" playing in the background to break a smile. Such a shame. Maybe if I find that youtube video of Justin Timberlake doing the "Single Ladies"... hold on..
... Saturday Night Live definitely needs a YouTube channel... It might be on Hulu.. ooops, got distracted on Sound Cloud...
I Got a Woman - Ray Charles (Matty Blades Re-rub) by MattyBlades
So, definitely got distracted by Ray Charles... and who wouldn't? Let's be honest.
I'm soooo tired of this large amount of free time.
It's still a little hard, even with "Single Ladies" playing in the background to break a smile. Such a shame. Maybe if I find that youtube video of Justin Timberlake doing the "Single Ladies"... hold on..
... Saturday Night Live definitely needs a YouTube channel... It might be on Hulu.. ooops, got distracted on Sound Cloud...
I Got a Woman - Ray Charles (Matty Blades Re-rub) by MattyBlades
So, definitely got distracted by Ray Charles... and who wouldn't? Let's be honest.
I'm soooo tired of this large amount of free time.
Too Old for this...
Now, I'm 25.... but there are some things I'm already too old for. Coming to this realization is both sad and relieving at the same time:
I'm too old for:
State Standardized Testing
Jr. High Dancing
Diapers (but then, I have been too old for that for a while... and I hear you get old enough for them again later on in life, but I'm too young for that)
Freaking out about learning to drive
25 is just old enough for:
renting a car
applying for a phD
to lose your first "job" and then realize you'd much rather be doing something else (like getting a phD)
Get what I'm saying?
I'm too old for:
State Standardized Testing
Jr. High Dancing
Diapers (but then, I have been too old for that for a while... and I hear you get old enough for them again later on in life, but I'm too young for that)
Freaking out about learning to drive
25 is just old enough for:
renting a car
applying for a phD
to lose your first "job" and then realize you'd much rather be doing something else (like getting a phD)
Get what I'm saying?
Friday, January 7, 2011
Honesty: The Best Policy?
So, my parents have always instilled in me that honesty is the best policy. Lately, every time I'm honest, I've been pushed aside and even fired. Silly, huh?
So, basically, my thoughts are that even though I'm transparent and honest, it's not always the best policy.
Seems kinda counter-intuitive? Especially considering that honesty is a virtue. If we're basing virtue on that, I'm super-virtuous.
Honest with my friends: not so good to be blunt even though my name is Blount
Honesty with my parents: don't even get me started (sorry Dad, I know you're reading this, and I guess Mom too)
Honesty with Doctors: I get hassled
Honesty with Employers: I got fired (thanks, Episcopal Service Corps)
So this all sounds cynical. And some days I am cynical. Mainly because we live in a society based around secrets and not honesty. We're based around success which ultimately is obtained by not being honest in most cases. Virtue is not an honor anymore. We seem to live to deceive and that's clearly not my style. So, what do I do? What can I do when I'm just trying to do the best thing possible and keep getting pushed out of the way?
On a good note: today is DOY council planning. Such a great group of High School Students trying their hardest to be leaders in a church that is continuously changing and a camp that is trying to change with it.
So, basically, my thoughts are that even though I'm transparent and honest, it's not always the best policy.
Seems kinda counter-intuitive? Especially considering that honesty is a virtue. If we're basing virtue on that, I'm super-virtuous.
Honest with my friends: not so good to be blunt even though my name is Blount
Honesty with my parents: don't even get me started (sorry Dad, I know you're reading this, and I guess Mom too)
Honesty with Doctors: I get hassled
Honesty with Employers: I got fired (thanks, Episcopal Service Corps)
So this all sounds cynical. And some days I am cynical. Mainly because we live in a society based around secrets and not honesty. We're based around success which ultimately is obtained by not being honest in most cases. Virtue is not an honor anymore. We seem to live to deceive and that's clearly not my style. So, what do I do? What can I do when I'm just trying to do the best thing possible and keep getting pushed out of the way?
On a good note: today is DOY council planning. Such a great group of High School Students trying their hardest to be leaders in a church that is continuously changing and a camp that is trying to change with it.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
The Saints!!!
I ask prayers for a healthy Saints team- stop having injuries and beat the buccaneers. Amen.
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