something didn't look quite right with this picture...

i was driving down gun club road in coopersburg. i noticed that i was approaching a pedestrian on the right hand side.

as i got closer, i recognized an attractive young man, about the age of 19 or so, wearing flip-flops and shorts, shirtless, exposing a very tan and chiseled upper body, with blonde hair, and carrying a large, long, red object.

as i passed, i noticed it was a surf board.

the closest body of water was a small pond filled with geese.

the song that nate su will be playing at the wedding just arrived in my inbox and it is absolutely beautiful. if he recorded a CD of hymns, it would blow mine out of the water.

note to self: it would not hurt to keep glasses on while driving at night in order to see important things, such as signs, small animals, other cars, and roads.

i've decided not to wear my glasses at the wedding.

in order to get my eyes in shape, starting today, i'm no longer wearing them. so far so good. no bad headaches yet.

if we get the rehearsal and i can't see who is walking down the aisle, perhaps i'll reconsider.

one week and counting. whew.

several people have asked me if i /have/have gotten/will get/ cold feet. i suppose it depends what your definition of cold feet is, but i think i got them for the first time last night. it lasted for five minutes or so. i think it is healthy, though, to acknowledge that in reality, things will not always be easy, beautiful, or flawless. and if that's what having cold feet is, or what results from having cold feet, so be it.

and let's remember that the beauty is found when love and redemption still find a way to come out of things that aren't easy, beautiful, or flawless.

All that was going on in life and we never noticed...Oh, earth, you're too wonderful for anybody to realize you. Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?--every, every minute?

this being 10 days before the wedding, we are now able to predict the weather via the 10-day forecast.

there's good news and bad news.

the bad? friday: 60% chance of rain.
the good? saturday: 77 degrees and only a 10% chance of rain.

whoever doesnt want to be partying in mushy grass better start praying now.

speaking of records to salivate to, listening to their one sided LP last night with wesley further proved the notion that six parts seven are a force to be reckoned with. they are quickly taking a second place seat behind explosions in the sky. long ago i pledged my allegience to unwed sailor, but if they don't get their act together, they could easily be left in the dust.

sleeping late is a wonderful thing, a thing in which i didn't have much experience at all this past year.

the ukulele is a fun little toy. i've been playing it quite a bit. it is hard to view it as a real instrument, though. it has several very toyish characteristics, and i feel a little weird playing it. i'm sure i look a little weird, too. perhaps a picture is in order here.

wesley got me salivating for records last night when he showed me his recent vinyl purchases. we sat and listened and salivated. i promised myself i wouldnt buy any until i found a job, but i found various ways to justify it in my mind and went on a small shopping spree this morning. whoops.

so tonight's the night for american idol, huh? taylor says that, even though she and her mom and her mom-moms want carrie to win, she thinks that bo will win because he has a better personality. i'm still trying to figure out the hype.

have a good wednesday.

no, but seriously, did any of us really realize what was happening on saturday morning? for that matter, did any of us really realize what was happening over the past four years? and why must things come to such hurried endings? four long years waiting for this day, and 24 hours later i'm in coopersburg, still not realizing i won't make that trip again any time soon, typing on my parents' slow computer, still not fully realizing what exactly will take place in the next less-than-2-weeks.

what a crazy time of life this is and will continue to be.

i graduated on saturday and i don't even know it. not yet.

we all got funny sunburns on our foreheads.

my parents chose to encourage my bad habit of collecting instruments i can't play. the latest addition is a fiiine looking ukulele. erica's parents chose to encourage further spending on music i can't afford, now in the vinyl format. i'll now have a fancy sony turntable in my livingroom, the record player i've been longing for all these years. and the cassels? they know i graduated magna cum laude, but judging by the book they gave me, i'm pretty sure they mistakenly think i just received my phd.

it was a joyous weekend. now it's 2 weeks on the go, then mexico, then maxing and relaxing in bethlehem.

it's not that i'm all together against sentimentality. it's more that, after this year, i have very little to be sentimental about. appreciative? oh yes indeed. sentimental? not really.

the house that used to stand one block over is now a flattened lot of dirt. i've spent the week wondering if anybody else besides me is depressed by its sight.

the other day i ran into randy on campus and he said, "hi, nate." i have no idea how he knows my name, and it terrified me, i think mostly because it's a lot harder to criticize someone behind their backs when you know he knows your name.

the busyness of packing and leaving is in the air today. i'm relaxed and happy and i'm wondering why i was in such a hurry to leave all the other years. a long-distance girlfriend is an understandable answer, i suppose.

i'm going to start a college that has, at the very least, periodic week long breaks where you're required to stay on campus. wouldn't it be great to be at college with nothing to do?

while walking to the DC, in light of the recent discussion on trashmen a few posts down, i waved to the guys driving the garbage truck. i tried to make the wave as thankful-looking and dignifying as possible.

why is it that it took me seven semesters to be ready and excited to learn? why is it that, after eight, the majority of my classmates still aren't ready and excited to learn?

i ran into two people at the DC, one right after the other, and both tried getting sentimental with me. they started the, "well hey, if i don't see you after this" speech. i didnt know them all that well and i didnt see much point in returning the sentimentality. i felt sorry for not taking them very seriously but i dont want to spend my final days wasting sappy goodbyes on people i dont know.

and for the people i do know, i just dont like the sentimental thing. how do you say goodbye to someone who means so much to you and who, in some cases, you'll never see again? it's a fact of life and sometimes i think it's best to do quickly and matter-of-factly. so if i treat you that way this week, don't be offended. and i probably wont be able to express how much you mean to me in person, and i'll probably end up writing you a cowardly letter a few weeks down the road, or even worse, an email.

one doesnt understand the importance and the excitement and the depth of meaning in graduation until he is experiencing it himself. all the other years i could care less about the seniors graduating. now i'm here and i'm expecting everyone to look at me and make a big deal out of it. it's pretty amazing stuff, really. so all of you who were seniors in the past, i'm excited for you now, it's just a few years late. and to the underclassmen who arent excited, it's ok, i understand.

i watched david's zimbabwe movie and i was impressed. i really was, david.

la bambas tonight, huh? good thing.

i dont know. i guess that's all for now.

there are many many events and going-ons this week and i cant keep track of them all, so if there is an event or going-on that i'm not at, i may be forgetting about it, and you may need to call me. thank you.

and just like that, 2 hours later, i'm done with my college career.

we saved the toughest for last, but i think i handled it well. i had very little motivation to study last night, and when i figured out i somehow only needed a 77 on the final to get an A in the class, what little motivation i did have instantly disappeared. but i did fine.

i've learned a lesson with finals. i always stress myself out about studying, and when i dont have any motivation to study, i just sit there in my room, wasting time, waiting for the motivation to hit, which never happens. but i always do fine on the tests anyway. so, underclassmen...if you do well in the class, you'll do fine on the final. don't study, and don't try to study, just have fun and enjoy your week, cuz that is much more productive. if only i could have gotten that through my head early on.

time to relax and party and do something fun. who's up for a quick trip to canada?

three posts in one day and i'm sorry. but i'm visiting the foxhole website and i think they deserve to be mentioned. from what i hear they are pretty great and i regret not going to see them at the firehouse, but what can i say? mewithoutyou outside at iwu is stiff competition. while instrumental music is becoming a common fad, i dont think it will ever be popular and i'm not sure why not but it's just as well because we all know what i would do if it would becoming popular and i'm sick of that happening.

speaking of popular bands, did you hear everything, now! beat out oasis on the CMJ charts?

last week we were discussing capitalism and materialism in history class.

we talked about how the american dream is defined by the accumulation of "stuff" rather than being content or building relationships or whathaveyou and how devastatingly sad that is.

we talked about if and how this appears in christianity and church and our campus.

but that's when dr. messer took the floor and kept it for a while and i was more or less blown away. he talked about how there is a notion that taylor students are white affluent rich snob spoiled brats and he went on to say that he disagrees. he pointed out the money we have raised for different causes lately. he pointed out the four or five education majors in the room "who have chosen a life of voluntary poverty." he gave other examples and told us that he believed very few taylor students buy into the so-called american dream.

i wasn't completely sure i agreed with him totally, but i marveled at the hope and the positive outlook he possessed. it was beautiful and inspiring.

as i've mentioned in some way or another, i identify with dr. messer in many ways. granted, he is much wiser, more experienced, more eloquent, more active, and so on, but i see his love of learning and thinking and his rooting for the underdogs in myself. but that day in class i saw a major difference. this love of thinking tends to lead me to cynicism and negativity, and somehow, he is able to avoid that.

as i've also mentioned before, i'm trying to give up my cynicism. i want to ask dr. messer how he does it and haven't yet, but all of this got me thinking about it more.

the avoidance of cynicism is found in joy. and while i thought that was the answer, you can't say, "millions are dying of AIDS and racism is still prevelant in america, but let's just be happy instead." so where does the joy come from?

i think the answer to that one is hope. and the hope comes from carefully choosing where you place your focus. and when you choose your focus and find your hope, it's much easier to be joyful. millions are dying of AIDS, but the hope comes in when we focus on people who are doing things about it. racism is still prevelant in america, but the hope comes in when we see reconciliation efforts and awareness and so on. am i making sense?

of course, as in all things, there is a very necessary healthy balance somewhere in there. if we focus only on the hope and the joy, we walk around with blinders on and don't feel the need to make anything better. (as richard hughes would put it, we'd be buying into the myth of the innocent nation.) if we focus only on the problems and the negativity, we're too mad and grumpy to do anything but complain and get depressed, and in our cynicism, we fail to see the possibility for change, which leads to a graceless and loveless life.

i think dr. spiegel said the other week that cyncism says people won't change.

maybe some things are beyond hope, but even then there is the hope that one day "redemption will come to us all."

so, i dont know if any of this made sense or not, and while i don't have things figured out, and while this is much easier said than done for some of us, i think i'm learning a few things.

one final down, two to go today, four to go in all.

each year i have fairly good intentions for studying. they never last long.

last night i decided not to study for today's finals at all. the plan worked for math. i just got in a reasonable amount of study time for contemp, so that will be fine as well. it's rather pointless to study for PE anyway, because the woman can't write grammatically correct, reasonable, or clear questions, so you never know how to answer even if you theoretically know all the answers.

i'll be fine.

art is tomorrow, and that is a joke. the woman doesn't have the heart to give you anything less than an A even if you get all the questions wrong.

history is on wednesday, and i will study for that one, i promise. but he's a nice man and is going to make this one easier than the rest as some sort of reward or something, so that's all reassuring.

so we're in good shape.

so, last day of classes. bizarre, huh? i spent the day wondering when it would hit me.

it didn't hit me in math class. i think i was too tired.

it almost hit me in chapel. to begin, a woman's ensemble with piano, flute, and a sweet sweet oboe sang an absolutely beautiful rendition of the 23rd psalm. it was the first time the 23rd psalm was truly meaningful to me, i think. immediately afterwards an awkward prayer was given, proclaiming that we were honoring and giving thanks to dr. gyertson. first, it was odd that the chapel was being held to honor dr. gyertson. second, it was odd that that was being announced in a prayer. "dear lord, just so you know, we're not worshipping you today, the focus is gonna be on dr. g instead, but we just wanted to make you aware ahead of time so you arent offended." i'm exaggerating, i know, but immediately after such a beautiful song, it was just somewhat disheartening. so all that to say, i thought it was going to hit me in chapel, but it didn't.

it didn't hit me when frenchy and i took a lap around the loop with alice cooper's "school's out" blasting on the stereo and me singing at the absolute top of my lungs. it didn't hit me, but that was awfully fun.

i think it finally hit me unexpectedly in history class when dr. messer had the 8 freshmen give the 4 seniors a congratulatory round of applause. at that moment my body filled up with joy and relief, and a quick glimpse of a movie of the past four years flashed through my brain, thinking of how i've, by god's grace, grown and changed and matured. class continued with some challenging and meaningful conversation. it was very fitting to end my college classroom career there, in a class that has been based on the ideas and mindsets i have come to develop at taylor. the growth i've experienced at taylor could be best summed up in the way that class was taught: a love of learning, a love of thinking, and a love for others, particularly the underdogs. walking out of that room and through those cramped hallways was a bittersweet chore.

and on a different note, richard hughes saved his best thoughts for the last chapter, so you're going to have to deal with one more post of quotes. the myth of the innocent nation. it's a doosey.

no more pencils, no more books, no more teachers' dirty looks...school's out forever!

let's put it this way. today, i wouldn't be opposed to crawling into bed and staying there until the middle of next week. i'm not exactly tired, though, so it wouldn't be all that useful.

"I say that you ought to get rich, and it is your duty to get rich. How many of my pious brethren say to me, 'Do you, a Christian minister, spend your time going up and down the country advising young people to get rich, to get money?' 'Yes, of course I do.' They say, 'Isn't that awful! Why don't you preach the gospel instead of preaching about man's making money?' 'Because to make money honestly is to preach the gospel.' That is the reason. The men who get rich may be the most honest men you find in the community." - Russell Conwell, Baptist preacher of the early 1900's

"Do you wonder why there are anarchists in this country, in this grand land of liberty, as you love to call it? Go to New York. Go through the byways and alleys of that greaty city. Count the myriads starving; count the multiplied thousands who are homeless; number those who work harder than slavesa nd live on less and have fewer comforts than the meanest slaves. You will be dumbfounded by you discoveries, you who have paid no attention to these poor, save as objects of charity and comiseration. They are not objects of charity, they are the victims of the rank injustice that permeates the system of government, and of political economy that holds sway from the Atlantic to Pacific...But almost their equal is found among the miners of the West, who dwell in squalor and wear rags, that the capitalists, who control the earth, that should be free to all, may add still further to their millions. Oh, there are plenty of reasons for the existence of anarchists!" - Lucy Albert, 1886, an address after her husband was sentenced to death for being a coleader of the Central Labor Union.

"Few today would agree with Russell Conwell taht 'the men who get rich may be the most honest men you find in the community.' Americans have seen far too much corruption to subscribe to that proposition. But a great many privileged Americans would agree in pinciple with Henry Ward Beecher's dictum that 'no man in this land suffers from poverty unless it be more than his fault - unless it be his sin.' Those who remain on the bottom rungs of society, according to the common wisdom, should simply 'pull themselves up by their bootstraps,' and their failure to do so only demonstrates their moral turpitude. Many never consider that some Americans have neither boots nor bootstraps on which to pull...

...The fact that Americans are addicted to wealth as a narcotic and to material goods for the meaning of life poses significant problems for the future of the nation and even for the future of the world. What will this addiction mean for the moral health of the nation? What will this addiction mean for the world's environment on which all life finally depends? And since this addiction relies so heavily on radical individualism, what will it ultimately mean for human relationships and the possibility of forging meaningful community? What will this addiction mean for our ability as Americans to implement the American Creed for all the people, not just for the privileged and well-to-do?" -Richard Hughes, 2004, Myths America Lives By

this one's dedicated to yoder.

sorry for all the quotes. i havent been thinking or doing much lately, i guess.

"There is perhaps no more compelling task for Americans to accomplish in the twenty-first century than to learn to see the world through someone else's eyes. Those of us who view America as a good and compassionate nation are almost always people who have benefited from its policies. We are not victims of oppression and persecution. To the contrary, we are comfortable and, by and large, content. We have food to eat and houses in which to sleep. We have sources of income and, while there are occasional insecurities, on the whole, we do well.

There is, however, another side to this story. It comes from those whose voices are seldom heard - from the poor and the dispossessed, not only in this country but also throughout the world...

...The fact that we hear these voices does not necessarily mean that we will agree. But hear we must. A world as dangerous as ours will not deal kindly with those who close their ears to the voices of discontent, who avert their eyes from the realities of injustice, and who refuse to entertain the question, 'Are there ways in which I might be responsible?'"

- Richard Hughes, opening lines to Myths America Lives By

if only i had a tape recorder. i am in the library sitting across from two grown men, and the dialogue is hilarious. i thought about trying to transcribe it all here, but i can't keep up. one is talking way too much, and the other is trying to ignore him. the talkative one just got really excited about something and was talking really loud, then turned at the other older man who is at the other table of computers and said, "oh...sorry! the pepsi's kicking in!" with that, he turned to his friend and gave a long, loud, smoker's laugh, the one i always do after making a fake joke.

talkative: the pacers play tomorrow at 7.
quiet: yep.
talkative: think they'll win?
quiet: dunno.
talkative: well, i'm going in as the secret weapon.
quiet: right.
talkative: no, really, i am! heh heh heh!
quiet: mmhmm.

what's even weirder, they're sending emails to each other. talkative just informed quiet, "hey man, i've got something to ask you, an important question. i'll send you an email about it." then he sits there and keeps asking, "didya get it yet? didya get it yet?"

now they're talking about star trek - looking up trivia on the web - and discussing exactly how fast the starship enterprise could go. anything past warp 7 or warp 8 was apparently unheard of.

it just dawned on me, they're probably sending emails to each other making fun of me. i guess they have the last laugh after all.

(not exactly how i would have liked to end my illustrious echo career, but here it is nonetheless. many thanks to neville, who gave me my first big break and has been helping me ever since, to joe, who bugged me enough to do it even though i wanted to do it all along, and to david and the many others who helped me formulate my thoughts for this one.)

Every once in a while, someone asks me why I like documentaries, and to be honest, I’m never quite sure how to answer. For me, it’s like asking a girl why she likes chocolate or puppies or sunny days; it’s just naturally an enjoyable thing. Everyone needs a shtick, and if you ask me, this is a fairly decent one to have. Lately, I’ve started thinking a little more about why I like documentaries so much, and while I’m still not entirely sure, there are a few ideas that have come up.

There is one answer that always seems to surface first: documentaries are more meaningful because they are real. Why watch fiction when you could watch something real? Random stories someone just thought up are a waste of time, right? Let’s face it, an amazing movie is even more amazing when it is “based on a true story.” In a lot of people’s minds, reality is superior to fantasy. That is an awfully tempting argument to accept, and while there is a reasonable amount of truth to it, I think there is more to liking documentaries than that. There are a lot of people who would tell you there is truth in fiction and meaning in story, and I would agree with them wholeheartedly. I find just as much meaning in The Royal Tenenbaums as I do in Dark Days. While a real story has a certain different dimension of meaning, I don’t like documentaries simply because they are real, and I definitely don’t want to do away with other movies just because they are fictional.

Maybe my love of documentaries is just a subconscious reaction that has occurred after watching Hollywood blockbusters for the past twenty-one years. We have all grown up watching fantasy on the TV screen, filled with magical special effects and imaginative scripts. We hid E.T. in our closets, busted ghosts, discovered the caveman in our back yards (and taken him to school with us), ran from T-Rex, and swallowed the red pill that sent us spiraling down into the Matrix. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed each of those movies as much as the next guy, but maybe, somewhere along the line, I decided it was time for a change. And documentaries are a change. They tell unique stories about unique people. They are often low-budget. They are mostly unscripted. They are simple and authentic. And while they may not be as impressive as Hollywood’s latest, they are indeed different, and that makes them refreshing. But while all of this is true, I don’t think liking documentaries is simply a knee-jerk reaction to my previous experiences with film. After all, if that’s the case, eventually I’ll grow tired of documentaries, and then I’ll need to find a new shtick.

Perhaps my love is an admiration of the challenging work that making a documentary requires, particularly in the post-production phase. On one hand, it is easy to make a documentary; all you need is a camera and a microphone, and it can be done with just one or two people and a low budget. On the other hand, there are no scripts or retakes; what you capture on film is, in some sense, luck of the draw. Later on, you’re editing what could be hundreds of hours of footage into a nice little hour-long-or-so package. That’s challenging stuff. But in the end, while I admire these filmmakers for what they do, I don’t think I like their films just because they were tough to make.

Maybe the reason for liking documentaries is much simpler than all of this. Maybe it’s just that documentaries give us a window to look into someone’s life, allowing us to see something we wouldn’t normally see, experience something we wouldn’t normally experience, meet someone we wouldn’t normally meet.

Documentaries present us with rare opportunities. In The Fog of War, we have the exceptional honor of sitting down one-on-one with Former Secretary of Defense, Robert S. McNamara, to hear his realizations and regrets years after Vietnam War.

Documentaries are stories rarely seen, and that’s what makes them unique and meaningful even when there are no major points to be proven. In Home Movie, we meet several quirky homeowners who share the passion they possess for their living spaces. It’s simple, but it’s hilarious and fascinating.

Documentaries allow us to live vicariously through others. With Spellbound, we can see the joy and pain of being a child prodigy who wins the national spelling bee without actually having to be a kid who gets beat up in school all the time.

With documentaries, we learn about people from all walks of life. We share life with them, experiencing things from their point of view, learning from new perspectives. Ultimately, when we learn about others, we learn about ourselves, and our view of the world enlarges. If you ask me, I’d say that’s a good thing.

So, I’m still trying to figure it all out, but as of now, that’s why I like documentaries.

thursdays are stimulating, sometimes overstimulating, sometimes agonizingly so.

they start with the fellowship of smouldering hearts, which is sometimes encouraging, sometimes discouraging, but always somehow brings a glimmer of hope and gets me thinking nonetheless.

after doing whatever needs to be done, i travel to history class. today we finished talking about WWII with the atomic bombs and what have you, and began talking about the cold war and the impact it had on every day life. it's something i still dont know much about and something that is pretty tough to imagine. and before this semester i hated history with a passion, so i am continually thankful for dr. messer and everything that comes wtih the man. and if i had it to do all over again, i'd do my best to pick up a history minor, at the very least.

after history is contemp. as if dr. smith isnt good enough, today we had dr. spiegel as a guest speaker, and he lived up to every bit of the hype that you constantly hear, making me regret not ever being able to schedule a class with him. it was nearly too much to take in as i furiously scribbled notes on as much of the discussion as i could, which will prove futile anyway, because even if i ever look back at them, i probably won't remember what was said, and definitely wont remember how it made me feel and the moment of inspiration it provided.

but there was talk of many things in those 75 minutes. he talked briefly about how marriage is a good sanctifier, moving in with another sinner and constantly learning the practice of extending forgiveness, as well as receiving forgiveness, which, "in this day of earning everything we get, can sometimes be equally as hard." while somewhat frightening, it was exciting.

and there were many things brought to my attention that must be worked on in my own life. cheap grace, spiritual discipline, and self-control being at the core of all virtues were among those many things.

so, needless to say, i was impressed with dr. spiegel.

and now i'm about to go be stimulated by travis yoder presenting his senior sociology thesis.

and so, while i absolutely cannot wait to get out of this place, it's days like these that make me want to stay just a little bit longer. i've finally found the joy of learning and the joy of being stimulated. it's exciting and enjoyable now; why can't i just stay a little longer to actually sign up for the classes i want to sign up for? all the good history classes and philosophy classes and art classes and psychology classes and bible classes and sociology classes and music classes and communication classes and what have you. maybe another 4 years of school are in order.

enough of all this nonsense. today is 05-05-05, and that's the cinco de mayo of a lifetime, unless of course, you live to be over 100 years old and are born within the first five years of a century, but even then, there's only 2 in a lifetime. so you know what that means. time to throw back a couple of coronas and get wacky. livin la vida loca.

just kidding mom. no but seriously, chalupa, are we celebrating or what?!?

is "liberal," by definition, a negative mindset? or is that just the connotation we've assigned it?

is "bias," by definition, a view opposite our own? or is that just the definition we've given it?

ok, so when i was wishing for the cooler weather, i didn't know it was going to last this long. good grief, it's the third of may and there are spurts of snow and frost advisories. erica thinks christ is coming back.

the other night i decided to give up cynicism. but i'm still not sure what that looks like or how it's done.

i'm still waiting for you to tell me why i like documentaries.

why? more like how!

no but seriously, seeing why? last night was one of the best decisions i've ever made, even though i had to make the hour trek by myself, and even though i was actually going to see everything, now! and planning on leaving after they played.

i was blown away. 4 men, a drum set, a rhodes, electric/acoustic/slide guitar, bass, another keyboard, a few other toys, gang vocals, hip-hop beats, jibberish lyrics, quirkiness times two or three or four, and a good dose of awkward humor. and that's about all i can describe of them. the drummer was kj margraff and paul giamatti mixed into one and addicted to speed. they were defintely unique, if nothing else. insound says they are "Un hip hop folk psych prog blues" and that's about as close as it comes. it was a pleasant surprise and i was more than happy to stay up past my bedtime for it. and they were placed on my loooong and groooowing list of cds to buy from jared's store once i have money.

these are my favorite nights, when you accidentally run into something and it's amazing and enjoyable. it felt the same when i went, at the last minute, to see roya hakakian in the union the other week. and when i unknowingly ended up in the union during jason harrod's set my freshman year. pleasant surprises are gifts.

the weekend was another lonesome one, but by now i can handle it, and enjoy it, like a true introvert. i suppose it's not a bad thing to enjoy these last few weekends by myself before taking the plunge. that makes getting married sound like a negative thing, and i don't mean to imply that at all. it's just that...well...these are the tiiiiimes to remember, cuz they will not last forever, these are the daaaays to hold on to, something something something. (that was billy joel.)

saturday night was the fair trade fair, and i applaud you, senior sem group, for a beneficial event and an enjoyable evening. dr. ricke was out of control, the lions were a first and i really enjoyed them, and josh garrels was sounding just about as good as ever. the fair trade vendors sold me a nice journal and a shirt that jesus would wear, and when they didn't have any change, they gave me a candy bar i didn't ask for, and they taught us a few things as well.

which brings me to my next point. it seems as though, this year, taylor is finally getting on board at looking at the world and finding ways to help out. with the aids awareness and the tsunami relief and the fair trade and what have you, people are learning. for this i am pleased. next we need to take things here at home a little more seriously, because we still don't know how to handle poverty in our own country, or other social issues at that.

and i think it seems this is all part of a movement for the church as a whole, which is also great. i think this tsunami thing did wonders for us.

but that's not to say it's easy to think about others, and more than that, to care about others. sure, the orange shirts make the numbers a little more real, and the pictures put faces to the problem, but i find it hard to care without actually seeing it firsthand. i want to care, but find it hard. and everyone jumping on the bandwagon makes me wonder if i'm the only one with this problem, although, if i am, i guess that's not bad thing at all.

but the words of mewithoutyou echo how i feel, i think. what unseen pen etched eternal things on the hearts of humankind but never let them in our minds?

(and this, recommended by neville, is wonderful, and relates to all of this in some way as well.)