i recently ran out of prozac.

even though having a cold is universally miserable, the individual sneezes offer a sort of satisfaction that would be inaccessible without the cold itself. depression is the same way. the time spent wallowing in bed, the time spent crying for no reason, the time spent simply feeling offers a release that i have not known outside of my sickness.

i went to the doctor yesterday and got a prescription, but i am going to miss the intense empowerment of experiencing emotion without logic. taking medication is much more difficult than most people realize.

the reading assignment for my comp II class today is an article written by former New Yorker staff writer bill mckibben. the article, "Pie in the Sky," is a commentary on american consumerism through a critical reading of the skymall catalogue, and mckibben effectively demonstrates his christian worldview throughout, albeit in small ways.*

If there's any piece of writing that defines our culture, I submit it's the SkyMall catalogue, available in the seatback pocket of every airplane in North America. To browse its pages is to understand the essential secret of American consumer life: We've officially run out not only of things that we need, but even of things that we might plausibly desire.

i am anxious to uncover my students' reception of this writing. at best, they will appreciate an opportunity to reflect on what statement our material possessions make about us. at worst, they will finally discover my top secret socialist agenda to convert them all to liberalism and lead them in a torches-and-pitchforks attack on the harding university business office.**

i'm always nervous about the latter, actually. however, my understanding of learning is that it can't take place unless one becomes uncomfortable. nobody ever learned anything by lounging in his own opinions. so i should amend the "at best" statement. at best, the reading will make them uncomfortable.

their accompanying homework assignment was to browse the skymall website and isolate for themselves the most ridiculous and useless product available.

for my selection, i'm currently straddling the line between the 76-in triple media storage tower (store 2,262 cds) and the av-100 deluxe tabletop aquarium (a fishtank designed to look like a flat-screen tv). even at the modest estimate of $14.00 per compact disc, the need for the media storage tower would imply well over $30,000 in cd purchases. however, the tabletop aquarium makes a compelling case in that it implies that a fishtank is the most interesting when disguised as a tv (or, as the catalogue puts it, "living art").

i'll let the class decide. after all, both are available in five colors!

*in my estimation, "small ways" are the best ways to demonstrate a christian worldview--asserting one's presence humbly is a simple way to earn the right to be heard. though, to be fair, mckibben does employ a great deal of sarcasm, which is a simple way to isolate the reader and thus lose the right to be heard. my goodness, i love thinking about these things. i wonder whether they'll let me teach rhetoric even if i get a masters in literature?

** i admit it--that was sarcasm. maybe i shouldn't teach rhetoric after all.

this reminds me of a marquee i saw when i was seventeen.



strange--that was 5 years ago.

one of my favorite words is ominous. i was greatly encouraged by the terrible weather that we've been having lately, because it afforded me several opportunities to look out of my window and say to myself, "the weather is ominous."

another word i deeply appreciate is waffle. the waffle is one of my most beloved breakfast options, though i usually spring for either an apple or simply the toothpaste residue on my teeth after i brush them before rushing out the door.

my true appreciation for the word waffle, however, is in its alternate definiton, to pause in uncertainty. i've become quite the waffler in the past several months--this accounts for why i will most likely have to defer acceptance to graduate school (should i even be accepted) in favor of a year of waiting to become eligible for an assistantship. the central difficulty of answering questions like "should i apply to graduate school?" or "do i want to work for a year?" is that, should i end up disliking the path i've chosen, the agony of day-to-day life will be a direct result of my own actions.

however! i suppose that, even in my incredible frustration at the terrifying uncertainty seeping into my life plans, even when i am made painfully aware that these plans could go wrong, i always have the beauty of the english language to fall back on.

i can at least appreciate that my future waffles ominously.

i've been reading mudhouse sabbath by laura winner, a book recommended to me (and lent to me) by one of my many siblings, miriam.

the author converted from judaism to christianity, and this book is her reaction to the lack of ritual and discipline in the modern practice of christianity (my discomfort at seeing the phrase "practice of christianity" is fairly emblematic of this difference in the two faiths).

the word "ritual" has, in my estimation, a negative connotation. i take it to imply a mindless, robotic repetition. my understanding of the second covenant is that jesus fulfilled those laws for us, eliminating the need for things like keeping kosher or keeping the sabbath. while clearly our salvation is not dependent on whether or not we abstain from that ham sandwich, winner's take on those rituals as representative of deeper spiritual disciplines is interesting.

one understanding of these sorts of disciplines is that they exist to separate the sacred from the profane.

my experience of christianity is that, with the exceptions of the lord's supper and the occasion deeply-felt prayer, the separation of the sacred from the profane seems not to exist. this isn't an oversight or a mistake. rather, this is intentional? "i do not need rituals," the modern christian seems to say, "because i enjoy direct communion with god, and the sacred exists in all i do." while the theory is certainly nice, the practice (in my life, at least) usually means that, if all things are sacred, nothing is sacred.

i admit that sometimes i have received the notion of keeping kosher as ridiculous. however, god did give the jews guidelines about what was meant to go into their bodies. as with every facet of judaism that winner describes (marriage, mourning, the attitude toward the human body, the sabbath, prayer, hospitality, reading, etc.), god gave guidelines based on the sort of life that he knew would meet the needs of his people. as ridiculous as keeping kosher seems to be, my understanding of the nature of god demands that nothing he commands is unnecessary.

there's something to be said, then, for seeking out the foundation of those guidelines and implementing them, in spirit, in our christian walk.

candlelighting, for instance, though it is by no means necessary today, would be an impactive addition to one's prayer life. praying to god before a single lit candle is a simple way to remind oneself, this is significant, special time. i am speaking to god.

also with regard to prayer, the recitation of certain prayers over and over again can feel awkward and mechanical. however, we have at times substituted that type of prayer in our services today with a kind of spontaneous i-feel-god-deeply warm-fuzzy praying. in fact, as jon and miriam pointed out to me, most of "contemporary" christian worship is fueled by feelings. the liturgy, however, offers a prescribed worship that might ignore how the worshiper is feeling. people are compelled to worship not because they are reacting to a deep feeling of god, but because god is god whether or not he is felt, and they have an obligation to respond to him regardless of sentimentality.

sometimes this means that worship is performed physically but not emotionally--this at first seems like a violation of my (our?) attitude toward how i approach church, but i would be kidding myself if i thought that i was always emotionally involved in church services. sometimes the best i can do is simply sit as a warm body filling a folding chair. the reality that miriam described to me is that one does not always feel god. c.s. lewis did not always feel god, henri nouwen did not always feel god, and mother teresa did not always feel god. i do not always feel god.

however, in the midst of a great god drought, worship should still be performed, if even only on a mechanical level. we do not find god again by abandoning church services. rather, we say "god, though you feel far from me, i recognize that you continue to exist even when you are not apparent, and i worship you in spite of the silence."

as you can tell, i was pretty affected by the book. i am going to try to start lighting some candles and reminding myself that communion with god is special. like all things, this could be taken too far, but i think the ideas are powerful.

i really ought to get renter's insurance just in case i burn the house down.

katie is away for
the weekend and i
have the house to
myself to enjoy
loudly the new
xiu xiu album.

sometimes i
ache to create, but
i still have
not written anything.

but but! i think i
am really nail-
ing those aw
kwa
rd lin
e br
ea
k
s


.

the m on my keyboard has been sticking.

descriptive writing, courtesy of my eng 111 class:

A scream is the equivalent of a samurai assault on the eardrum.

Walking on grass is the feeling of walking on a recently over-starched shag rug.

When it rains, the distinct aromas of the earth are released.

Rain smells of an urgent need for a nap.

Rain smells like a toilet drain.

The sun is like a giant circle. It is very bright and lights the world when it shines.

and, my very favorite,

An orange tastes like all the times you thought you were going to have fun.

they think that their writing is bad, but i like it.