Every movie should be like this one.

This is my new favorite movie. I watched it a few nights ago at the dollar theatre (or should I say the "Two Dollar Theatre" since they've upped the prices again). When I first heard of this movie, not having seen the previews, I had no interest in watching it. I mean, I'm not a fan of Rambo--sorry Sylvester. But then a friend clarified for me that the title wasn't "the son of Rambo" but the "Son of Rambow." I assure you that the title is a bit misleading to what a gem this movie truly is. It is heartfelt as it is hilarious. The script is clever and witty, the cinematography is beautiful.

It's an endearing story about two young boys: Will Proudfoot, a sheltered child from a religious family and a misguided delinquent named Lee Carter, who is known by his teachers as "Demon Child Carter." Though Carter tricks or rather forcefully coerces Will to become the stuntman of his very own action adventure movie, inspired by the Rambo movies of the early 80's, Will sees himself as the son of Rambow and imagines a fantasy world where he saves his father, Rambow, from the clutches of the evil scarecrow warlord--But not without the help of Colonel (played by Carter) and the flying dog (played by a dog statue tied to a stunt-flyer kite). Throughout the movie making process, Carter and Will find that being fans of Rambo are not the only things that they have in common. Though their circumstances are very different, they find true friendship in each other. But this isn't the typical boy meets boy and they're friends for life story. Thrown into the plot is a mix of legalism and righteous indignation from the Brethren, the religion that the Proudfoots belong to and an androgenous French exchange student, who is an outcast from his own kind, but gathers a large following at the English school that Will and Carter attend.

In short, I highly recommend this movie. If my very brief synopsis didn't whet your appetite, you should probably watch the trailer:

Son of Rambow Trailer

A follow up on the egg story...

Today Emily "Deave" Deaver, who is staying with me for the week while she works at the Biola music camp, made the most amazing feta-cheese, spinach and tomato scramble using none other than my cage-free vegetarian eggs. We would like to thank Heather Fedbetter for truly feeding us better. I would also like to thank Trader Joe's for providing the spinach, tomatoes and cheese. It was a meal of complete organic GREATNESS:

we're happy cause we're healthy!

Last night, Deave and I-- after returning from a frozen yogurt run-- sat in Deave's car by her friend Song's house, waiting patiently for the boys to arrive for a much anticipated Nerts tournament. If you don't know what Nerts is, well then, you are missing out on the best and most addicting card game ever. Deave, Song, David Burrows and I played for a grand total of 3 hours before we finally stopped with Deave in the lead with 400 points. Not to worry, I was only a few points behind her. Poor Burrows was at a grand total of -67. But that's ok, he was a good sport about it.

Anyway, while Deave and I were waiting in the car, relishing our sugar free, fat free strawberry banana yogurt, we started talking about the guys that we admire. Unfortunately, these guys were fictional characters, a discussion brought on by my unashamed crush on Christian Bale as Batman and...Harry Potter. Deave started naming the men in her life--Gilbert Blythe (from "Anne of Green Gables"), Rochester (from "Jane Eyre"), Heathcliff (from "Withering Heights") and Lord Peter Wimsey (from the series "Gaudy Night" by Dorothy Sayers) and to this list I added Mr. Darcy, from Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice." After a moment of silence, Deave and I realized that we were gushing about men that don't exist. Here we were, sitting in her car, eating frozen yogurt, giggling about fictitious men! It's funny, yes, but SO SAD! But funny. Really funny. As Amy Kuney sang in her song, "Love is Trippy" we're "overdressed, undersexed, starved for a yes, or maybe always tired of being ignored..."

we're really not that desperate. we're just girls. I blame it on the frozen yogurt and Christian Bale.

All Hail the Power of Jesus' Name

After reading my bible earlier this morning, I started humming "All Hail the Power of Jesus' Name," which I thought was really random because it has been such a long time since I've sung or heard that hymn. Then an idea entered my mind: you should write an acoustic version of it!

hey sure, why not!

So I grabbed my guitar and started playing around with the melody. I didn't get very far because I only knew the first verse. As I was searching for the song lyrics online, I happened across a true story about how this particular hymn, not only saved a missionary's life, but also gave him an opportunity to share the gospel message with the barbaric tribe of natives who wanted to kill him:

One of the most dra­ma­tic in­stanc­es of [this hymn’s] use was found in the ex­per­i­ence of the Rev. E. P. Scott in In­dia. His friends had urged him not to ven­ture near a cer­tain bar­bar­ous in­land tribe, whom he wished to evan­gel­ize. But he went forth with high cour­age, ne­ver wa­ver­ing in his du­ty, and trust­ing in God to pro­tect him. When at last he reached their coun­try among the hills, he came up­on a com­pa­ny of these sav­ag­es. Im­me­di­ate­ly they sur­round­ed him, point­ing their spears at him with threat­en­ing scowls. He had no­thing in his hand but his vi­o­lin; and so, clos­ing his eyes, he be­gan to play and sing, “All Hail the Pow­er of Je­sus’ Name.” When at last he opened his eyes he ex­pect­ed to be killed in­stant­ly. But his life had been spared through the sing­ing of the hymn. Their spears had dropped, and they re­ceived him first with cur­i­o­si­ty and in­ter­est, and then lat­er with ea­gern­ess, as he told them the gos­pel sto­ry and won their hearts to the will of Je­sus Christ.

AMAZING, isn't it? All Hail the POWER of Jesus' name!

Eggs-cellent...

Earlier today I went to Albertson's on a quest to buy eggs. As I browsed through the many selection of eggs, I came across "Cage Free Vegetarian Eggs: for the lacto-ovo vegetarian." Immediately my inherently curious nature was raised as high as both my eyebrows. Interesting. In fact, I was so interested that I bought them! I mean, hey why not? I'm not a vehement pursuer of poultry rights (unless you count their right to feed my chicken-loving belly), but I also don't think we should treat animals inhumanely. More importantly, these eggs were a $1 cheaper than normal, chicken-hater eggs.

Upon opening the package I found a letter of appreciation from a kind-looking chicken named Heather Fedbetter-- it just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it? The letter said:

"My name is Heather Fedbetter and I want to thank you for giving my sisters and me a wonderful home. When you support the Egg Innovations Brand, you are supporting a company that:
- will not market any caged eggs under our brand-we are the cage free company!
-They do not feed me or any of my sisters drugs, antibiotics, or animal-by-products because when you are fedbetter, you feel better.
-They give us a home on family farms not factory farms because YOU have a choice.

...have an Eggscellent Day!
Heather Fedbetter."

wow. I'll be sure to remember Heather Fedbetter and how much I've helped her and her sisters as I eat their unborn young. Scrambled. With a side of tomatoes.

Oh, the irony.

Breakfast at Mimi's

I went to Mimi's Cafe to have breakfast with a friend that I have not seen or talked to in a while. However, it seemed that our fateful meeting was postponed, yet again, due to the fact that she had "double-booked" herself and had made prior arrangements the exact time we were supposed to meet. Hey, no big deal. I already has this feeling that it wasn't going to happen anyway. I'm not being sarcastic, just psychic. Ba dum ksssh.

No worries. I did not leave Mimi's, chagrined. I decided to stay and eat breakfast solo. Dun dun dunnn.

As I was eating by myself in one of the back corner booths, contentedly feasting on my half a cantaloupe and pain (pa-eehn?) perdue--petite french toast stuffed with cream cheese and orange marmalade, I realized how much I enjoyed my unaccompanied meal. There's just something about Mimi's that I find enjoyable and endearing. And as I sat there, eating my perdue, I felt very grown-up.

I also read from 1 Peter 1 this morning, which made my morning even better. That sounds really cheesy, but I'm not trying to be. Reading verses 3-9 was like the culmunation of all the things that I have been processing in my mind for the past six months. I've read 1 Peter many times before and today it finally sunk in:

"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God's power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith--more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire--may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. Though you have not seen him, you love him. Though you do not now see him, you believe in him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory, obtaining the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls."

Words really cannot express right now just how much God spoke to me through that passage. Well, I could try to "express myself" but this blog post would be days long.

God is amazing and so, so SO faithful. Everything always points to Him, despite of my unwillingness to try and remember Him. He makes it happen. I cannot escape Him. I may forget Him, but He is always mindful of me (see Psalm 8:4).

The Morality Question (for lack of a better title)

Disclaimer: If it seems like a lot of my blog revolves around what happens at work, well--a lot of my life, as of recently, revolves around my coffee-shop job. It's not that I'm obsessed with coffee or anything. When I speak in terms of "life" I'm mostly referring to the people that I work with and interact with on a day-to-day basis. Conversations that I have with my co-workers may not be as meaningful as others, but even the less than meaningful confabulations have lead to meaningful thoughts--well, at least on my end:

As of the beginning of July, I seemed to have transitioned from "new-girl" to "girl that works closing shift." A lot of the initial awkwardness of being in a new work environment has worn off. Making drinks and doing the chores have become systematic, therefore making it possible to actually talk to people. The person I'm thinking of in particular is *Bryan. He started working at IAG (It's A Grind) about the same time I did. He's a professing Christian. And he's also gay. Woa, red flag, right? Bryan grew up in a Christian home and was raised in church. He is the youngest of five children. He said that he had a normal childhood growing up--except for the fact that he's been attracted to boys ever since he was three. He remembers coming home from pre-school and talking about the cute boys in his class. His parents thought it was just a phase that he was going through, so they didn't really think it was a big deal. In high school, Bryan said he began to take his Christianity more seriously. But he was still attracted to guys. He said that he tried to pray it away, but those same-sex attractions still remained. Because those attractions remained, he's accepted it--seemingly without trepidation. He assures me that he loves going to church, and has his morals in check and is not promiscuous. However, he also entertains boys who pursue him. He's been in a few relationships and flings with guys and is currently "hanging" out with a guy who has a crush on him. I asked him how he reconciles what the Bible says about homosexuality being a sin and not of God's original design and his dating, or social life. And to this, he responded: "I don't know. I'm just going with the flow. This is the way things are. And I know what the Bible says, but I know that I'm not destined to be single for the rest of my life. I have every intention of marrying the person that I fall in love with." I told Bryan that I would be praying for him. It was all I could say at that moment in time.

Bryan is a nice, fun guy. He's outgoing and the life of the party. However, when I work with him, it feels like my soul is being ripped apart in 20 different directions. That sounds intense, but I don't know how else to describe it. I love this guy--in a brotherly, platonic, un-romantic sort of way, but I also don't agree with his lifestyle, and I'm not talking about him being gay, I'm talking about how he says that he is a Christian but does not seem to take this claim seriously. His eager pursuit of romantic relationships with men seem to also indicate this. I humbly recognize my own inadequacies to make a judgment on anyone due to the massive plank in my own eye, but I also know that if one claims to be a Christian, then they should, at the very least, be distinguishable from those who do not have Jesus Christ in their lives; not because Christians are better than anyone, but because Jesus said so.

It concerns me--and maybe it shouldn't-- that Bryan seems to blend in, almost too well, with my non-Christian co-workers. At first, I wondered if I was just jealous. My co-workers have taken to him like a young child to a puppy dog. They absolutely love him and love to hang out with him, work out with him, eat with him, etc. They probably sense my prudish ways like some sort of "fun-sucker" vibe that I give off. This is most likely the reason why I'm not invited to anything. The general apprehensiveness of my co-workers around me is sometimes amusing, but mostly frustrating. I think I'm just as fun and good-humored as Bryan (tooting my own horn here), but it's like I'm missing that key ingredient that would make me fun to actually hang out with.

Yesterday, as I was working with Bryan and watched him make after work plans with a few people, I wondered to myself what Christian morality really is. I wondered this because of the conversation I had with Bryan about morality. This thought has been prominent in my mind as of late because I am becoming increasingly aware of how different I am from the the people I work with, even though one could say that some us share the same moral attitudes. What is true Christian morality? What makes it different from orthodox moral practices that is widely accepted by the public? What is it that makes Christians different in such a way that Jesus would even say, in John 15:18-19: "If the world hates you, you know that it has hated Me before it hated you. If you were of the world, the world would love its own; but because you are not of the world, but I chose you out of the world, because of this the world hates you." There has to be more to morality than not being promiscuous, not getting drunk, not cussing, being respectful to elders, feeding the homeless and going to church, right?

Incidentally, today I read an article that John Piper wrote on Desiring God blog, titled "All Things Are From God, Through God, and To God. The Glory Is All His." It was very encouraging and enlightening, especially this part:

"Morality in the Christian life is not simply the willpower to do right things, because God has the authority to command them. Christian morality is the overflow of worshipping the sovereign, merciful God. Christian life is the fruit of a mind and heart transformed by seeing and savoring the all-sufficiency and sovereignty and mercy of God revealed in Jesus Christ."

Thank you, John Piper. What comes to mind when I read this is: "you can't have your cake and eat it, too." One has to really believe that what God has to offer through Jesus Christ is infinitely better than the fleeting, provisional undertakings that this world has to give. "One can't serve two masters..."

Last thing. Important keywords: "overflow of worshipping..." Without the right reverence for God, or an accurate view of who Jesus Christ really is, whatever moral views we hold seem meaningless. The reverence of God IS the keeper of morality. Good is possible because of a healthy fear of God, a fear that exists due to acknowledgment of His sovereignty over all things. Therefore, moral views without reverence of God is not really morality. They're just views.

Andrew.

Tonight, during the last Craft night of Adventure week, I was helping an eight year old named Andrew. The craft tonight was to make life-preserver bible verse frames from two paper plates. The project was simple enough, so Andrew really didn't need help, but I needed an excuse to sit by him.

Andrew has very cherubic features: a rounded face, rosy, squeezable cheeks, sizable blue eyes and short, sandy brown hair. Andrew is also the smartest kid I have ever come across. When I say smart, I mean, he talks like a British scholar. His vocabulary is very sophisticated and proper, not just for an eight year old little boy, but for anyone! For example, after helping him punch a hole through his life-preserver frame, I asked him what he was going to do with his finished project. This was his response, word for word: "I do not know. Perhaps, I shall hang it onto my bed post. Perhaps, that may be a good idea. Do you think so?" I stared at him, flabbergasted, with my mouth agape. I just shrugged my shoulders, nodded and took a deep breath to stifle my laughter. I made eye contact with one of his group leaders, sitting in the chair next to him, and her eyes had grown as wide as her mouth was open. She was as pleasantly shocked and entertained as I was.

After I made sure I wasn't going to laugh, I cleared my throat and asked, "Andrew, would you like to pull the string through the hole?" He nodded his head and threaded the string through with his clumsy, chubby eight year old fingers. Then I asked him, "Can you tie a knot?" Andrew shook his head vigorously and said, "No, no, no. I cannot. Please help me." Once I finished tying the knot, he clapped his hands together, smiled gleefully and said, with utmost resolve: "Perfect."

After putting his project away, Andrew and I actually got into a short discussion about words. He asked me what my favorite word was. For some weird reason, the only word I could think of at the moment was "arbitrary." Andrew, in sincere eagerness, asked me what it meant. How do you explain what "arbitrary" means to a child who, according to Piadget's Stages of Cognitive Development, cannot grasp abstract concepts?

The best explanation I could come up with was that it meant something random and unpredictable. I suppose most eight year olds would've looked at me blankly if I had tried to explain a complicated word with complicated concepts, but Andrew placed his chubby little fingers on his chin and let out a contemplative "hmm." I asked him if he knew what random meant. Immediately, his eyes lit up as he replied, "of course! See, when things are in order...it's like counting from 1-10...you know...1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 and on and on. But when something is random then it's like not going in order! It's like 1, 7, 10..."

I wanted to steal him right then and make him mine forever.

This is why I love kids so much. You just never know what you're going to get in terms of personality or...lexicon.

Accidents happen...for a reason.

I got a text from my brother tonight saying: I just got in an accident.

Foreboding, much?

My initial reaction was to have all sorts of horrible scenarios flood my mind. I immediately ruled out death because I figured, if he was dead then he wouldn't have sent me the text message in the first place (i know, my deductive reasoning is nothing short of amazing). After about 5 minutes of freaking out, I finally called him and asked him what happened. Apparently, a car that was slowing down and signaling right on the right lane decided to turn left just as my brother was trying to pass it. At 40 mph. Oy vey. He said that he was fine, a little shaken, but fine. And the other driver was fine, too. When asked I asked how our Toyota Sequoia was doing, all my brother could do was sigh and say, "Let's just say that there's a chunk missing."

My poor brother. I'm SO glad that he's ok. There was a brief moment where I considered the option of him not being ok and I almost cried. I praise God that the only thing damaged was the car--though the car is still a considerable problem on the financial side of things and my parents definitely need prayer about that. But it's interesting, isn't it? Christian or non-Christian, we almost always revert to casting aside the material things as rubbish when it comes to the life of someone we really love and care about. What if we thought this way about people, in general, on a regular basis? What would our lives be like?

Nothing can replace my brother. I'm kind of ashamed to admit that it took something like this to remind me of just how precious he is to me. Or how precious people are. What was it that Jesus said? "Love your neighbor as yourself?" The kind of love and affection I'm feeling now, that's the kind of love I need to have for everyone! Right?

Coffee IS a drug!

This week, I'm helping out at Grace EV Free's "Adventure Week," which is the church's very own rendition of that timeless Christian standard: Vacation Bible School. This year's theme: Set Sail.

I get to help out in Crafts, which is really fun, but a little stressful. Kids + markers, or kids + scenic sand (or kids + anything, for that matter) usually equals to about...20 minutes of mayhem (which is how long the Craft rotation lasts per group). There's a lot of noise, a lot of "hey! i need more of... (fill in the blank)," and the occasional disgruntled child, who takes out the disappointment of his craft-project-gone wrong, by scowling in his chair and refusing to be pleasant to anyone.

The craft was simple enough: the kids were decorating their very own sailor hats. But I had about three million requests to draw sea creatures on hats. Five seahorses, three sailboats and four anchors later, I needed a break (there was a lot of yelling, ok? And my head sort of hurt).

I decided to step out and grab some coffee from the parent's lounge. The amount of coffee that I drank was a mere 10 ounces, but it sure didn't take long to kick in: soon I was greeting every child in the room with a hearty, "Ahoy there, matey!"-- complete with the cheesy arm swing and squinty, Popeye expression.

It's 12:37 in the morning and I can't sleep. And 2 hours ago, I was bouncing off the walls in my room, laughing at everything and getting giddy about nothing in particular. There were other strange incidents that happened, but I've decided to spare you the details.

Now as I sit here, I feel the impending doom of a caffeine "crash and burn." It feels kind of like the end of the world--kind of. I think it would be more convenient to, instead of feeling whiny and weepy, be tired and sleepy. In other words, though I may all of a sudden gain this heightened sensitivity to my emotions, I still will not be tired enough to fall asleep. This makes so sense, because I would rather just. . . go to bed.

This reminds me of that one time I had a third of a margarita at California Adventures. I don't know why because it's completely irrelevant. I just remember that, even if it wasn't much alcohol, that miniscule amount of the lemon-lime concoction was enough to "mellow me out," if you know what I mean. You're probably thinking, "that was all in your head." And, yeah, maybe it was just a mental thing, but I assure you that I did feel very relaxed--relaxed enough to get in line for the Tower of Terror without much incident. And I can't stress enough how much I hate that ride. Abhor would be a better word choice, methinks. Better yet: loathe, detest, despise, execrate...I think you get the picture.

Anyway, that was a nice tangent. However, in light of the alcohol issue, I can't help but wonder which is the greater evil: doing more stupid things at a faster rate, or doing stupid things because you can't think straight? Hmmm?

Maybe I should quit drinking coffee? But...flub, I like coffee so much! Or maybe it likes me too much? Could I really give it up? I mean, I'm much more entertaining when I'm caffeinated. Doesn't that count for something? And since when did I start reacting to coffee this way? When did the universe fall out of alignment?

Training wheels are off.

I did not go to church this morning, which isn't the end of the world, but my conscience felt like it was. I just...decided not to go. Totally lame, I KNOW. Discouraged, dismayed and frustrated with myself, I left my house to journal and talk with God. I spent the next few hours evaluating the thought process that lead to my poor decision this morning.

At this point in my life, there literally is no one around to tell me what to do. I don't feel direct pressure from anyone to do anything. Typical expectations of friends and mentors, pastors and parents are no longer my main points of references--they do not dominate or dictate decisions I make. For example, my whole life I have always felt some sense of obligation to go to church. I hardly ever missed a service--which wasn't hard to do since I was so plugged into the high school and college ministries of my home church. Unfortunately, I realized that those obligations were predominantly founded on pleasing other people, not obeying and worshiping God. This, of course, is no one's fault but mine.

I have never been this free to live life my way. It's kind of scary. Mostly because I'm discovering a lot about myself that I don't like. Just because I'm free to live, it doesn't mean I should do everything I feel like doing. And the things I used to do when I lived under obligations and expectations, I discovered are things that I still need to do, but being freed from legalistic reasoning, I find it hard to motivate myself to do them. I need to want to do them, not for myself--or anyone else-- but for the glory of God! (i.e church attendance, discernment about what movies I watch or music I listen to, spending time in the Word, stewardship of my time, keeping my room clean, balancing my budget, cleaning up after myself, etc.).

It's like I'm learning to ride a bike for the first time. My Father has finally removed the training wheels. He wants me to learn how to balance on my own. And falling is definitely included in the learning process. I'm not going to learn unless I get back up and try again, because God's not going to put the training wheels back on. Never again.

I understand that the bike-analogy probably sucked, but my point is: I realized this morning after getting up from another fall, that the scary thing about discovering freedom in Christ and being released from the chains of legalism is now...the only thing stopping me from taking up my Cross...is...myself. I know that I have to want Jesus more than anything. No one can make me do that! I have to want to use my freedom to live as a slave to righteousness.

"Therefore, as you received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in Him, rooted and built up in Him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving..."

Colossians 2:6

Why the heck do I write so much?

This is to make up for my novel I wrote the day before.

Movies under a tent/fort... HEE!

the setup.

good job, Kevin and Eric.


mmm. candles help with the ambiance...and the darkness.

we're endearing, i know.
(this was taken right before we were attacked by ants.)

Viva La Summer!

Happy 4th.

That little blurp is about all the patriotism I could muster...pathetic, isn't it? It's not that I don't care--I plead ignorance, not contempt. I like America and appreciate my freedom very much. There are just other things on my mind right now. Brace yourself, this is going to be a long one:

I had to work closing shift and tonight I had the privilege to work with "Steve." Obviously, that's not his real name. But I don't want to embarrass him--nor I-- in the event that he accidentally finds my blog. Being a holiday, work was pretty dead, so Steve and I got to talk a lot. It was amazing how much I found out about his life in about an hour.

At first glance, one would assume that Steve is one of those artsy-eclectic musician types, who loves the planet Earth more than his diurnal (daily) shower. He had an abundance of curly black hair that rested on his head like a well-fitted helmet. He wore black thick-rimmed glasses, a faded periwinkle t-shirt, jean cut-offs and a pair of tattered Vans. Steve seemed ethnically ambiguous because I could not tell what he was until he mentioned his Salvadorian heritage: "...sadly, I know more French than I do Spanish. And...that's not much."

Steve just graduated with a Bachelor's in English at the age of 22 and is planning to get his Master's in Poetry at Portland State University. In retrospect, Steve stated his ambitions so ardently that it was reminiscent of a young boy telling his mother how the first day of kindergarten went. Steve was also equally excited about going to Russia in a couple of weeks to meet his girlfriend's family. The reason for his excitement: "I'm planning to propose to her while we're there," he said, emphatically. He claims that he knew she was "the one" after dating the Russian beauty for five months. "Three years later, and with the both of us moving to Portland in March, I think it would be wiser to be married and live together, than live together and not get married. You know?" In addition to being "pre-engaged," Steve is also a creative and talented poet, a self-taught guitar, banjo and piano player, a self-proclaimed vegetarian with vegan ethics, lover of the Gypsy Den, and a fellow connoisseur of talented, yet obscure musicians. Furthermore, he would rather ride his bike than drive a car and he brings a Nerf gun to work with him, just in case he gets bored.

I found Steve to be super cool, refreshing and inspiring, though I think the average "normal" person would classify him as a social outcast, or someone who doesn't adhere to societal norms. I think he's "normal" enough. He's just not afraid to be different. He doesn't try hard--he knows what he likes and appreciates and doesn't need everyone else's pre-approval to act on his pursuit of those things.

I am realizing more and more how drawn I am to people like Steve. I am attracted to that sort of lifestyle--living for or under obscurity, having a genuine sense of originality by finding ways to live life differently from generations before, thinking deeply about everything, self-expression through creative means, etc. And I feel like I'm in a stage of my life where I'm trying to find a different way to live it, without losing the ultimate focus: the glory of God, through Jesus Christ. But the "way things are" just isn't going to cut it, anymore. I have outgrown the legalistic expectations of the Christian subculture. I am through with just sitting there, mouth agape. I am desperate to make the most of my time here on Earth. I am eager to see what that is supposed to look like because I am free in Jesus Christ! I am free to live my life!

But even as I say this, I hear the voices of people in my life who withhold caution from the wind with tightly closed fists: "BUT...we have an obligation to righteousness. You have to be careful not to abuse that freedom. The Bible tells us that we need to be set apart. You can't just do whatever you want. We need to fear God and obey His commands. Be careful to tame your selfish ambitions." Yes, all of that is true. But are we to be so cautious that we stray too far to the right, and become content with simply sitting and hearing sound doctrine within our respective churches without consciously trying to figure out, how these doctrines are to be lived out in every day life? Isn't it worth risking a mistake in order to figure out what it is that God wants for us to do, how He wants us to impact the world for Christ's name?

It may appear that I have diverging and bifurcating points of interests, but really, what I'm trying to say--in 200,000 words or less--is, I perceive people like Steve are people who actually live life. Granted, that is a gross-over generalization and a completely subjective point of view--in other words, my own personal opinion. I widely accept diversion from the norm as something admirable, mostly because it is hard to do.

But what about Christians, those who have everything to live for, those who have been given freedom to live life abundantly, how are we living?

I feel like we are afraid to live as freely as we ought.

My new favorite thing

Today after working out, I decided to venture into unfamiliar territory: the Super1(one) Asian Market on the corner of Beach and Rosecrans. I needed rice so I figured it would be the best place to go.

As I walked through the automatic sliding doors, I felt like I was transported into another dimension. The asian dimension. What was supposed to be a quick run to the grocery store was prolonged into an hour long tour of the entire market. I was completely fascinated with everything that was in there--from the flower shop with authentic rainforest sounds to the lingerie shop, placed in between the "children's corner" and the deli. It was a menagerie of miscellaneous items. "One of these things is not like the other..." kept playing in my head as I browsed around.

Anyway, I managed to find the rice aisle. I was all set to go with my prize (plus a few other things I picked up on the way) when I came across this:

It's a rice dispenser! At least that's what I gathered from the picture (since I don't read Japanese). I looked at by bag of rice and then looked again at this amazing invention, thinking to myself: "Life just got a little bit easier. And more fun!" I grabbed it from the shelf and quickly made my way to the check-out counter before I was tempted to buy anything else.

As soon as I got home, I ripped the box out of the bag, thoroughly excited about my new toy. However, I ran across a slight problem. Nothing on the box was in English. Which is fine, except that I didn't know how to put it together. Fortunately, the manufacturers were kind enough to provide pictures. (Though, in retrospect, I don't think I read instructions, in the first place. It's a bad habit of mine to skim over instructions and just look at pictures. I am very much a visual person. Words can bore me sometimes. Ironic, isn't it?)









Once taken out of the box, I thought that it looked like medical supplies. Especially that syringe looking contraption in the middle. Hmmm.

At long last. It is finished:
(rice not included)

Making rice will be so much more fun now. I'm excited.