I usually consider myself a well cultured man who is open to the things that make civilization. While a missionary in Austria, my fellow missionaries mocked me for preferring to visit "museums, art galleries, places of historical interest" as well as attending the opera, theater, and symphonic presentations. Despite all of this, until last night, I had never seen ballet. So, I went. I decided this was not necessarily a mistake to not see ballet.
Everyone has their own tastes about what they enjoy and prefer as recreation in their free time. I do some of the typical masculine things like hiking, shooting, skiing, etc. I also do things not technically considered masculine in modernity like gardening, playing piano, learning languages, flying kites, etc. I have only been to two modern concerts in my life, one because it was free and the other because I had no plans that night. The rest of my music is actually considered "classic rock" or classical. Unlike my peers, music is not my life. I spend very little time listening to it. When I found someone who liked ballet, I decided to invite her so that I could find out if I liked ballet.
I found ballet to be interesting albeit repetitive. I know it takes a great deal of effort to do what they do, and I appreciate the skill demonstrated by last night's performance. However, I have seen similar skill in olympic skating. However, I found the dances largely redundant, and I could not believe that it took over two hours. My companion felt like it had been shorter than it was. Truth be told I was glad it was over.
For the right person, I imagine I could visit ballet again. For my own part, there are other things I prefer. I will admit that I am human, that I have my faults, and that sometimes I'm less refined or cultured even than I like to admit. However, I still enjoy museums, art galleries, and places of historical interest, which largely dictate my vacations. Some people i know who consider themselves more refined think it wondertastic to vacation and sit on the beach drinking rum and tanning all day. I don't find that culturally enriching.
In the end, I suppose this just reflects varied tastes and preferences that we all have. How wonderful that we live in a time of variety so that there is something pleasant in the arts for almost everyone! You may love ballet, and if you do, good for you. If my child wanted to try it, I would support it, knowing how many long hours my parents watched our efforts in martial arts. Not that I didn't enjoy the ballet; the dancers did an admirable job, and it was a pleasant evening, particularly since summer has finally arrived in force. I just prefer other things to a greater degree.
The last few weeks of the semester, I saw an angry mockingbird aggressively attack people in the parking lot outside the science wing of campus. Eventually, I figured out what he was doing and realized there was nothing wrong with his behavior if you understood the context. I also learned that he recognized me and responded to me after a while.
One particularly windy day, this bird swooped down on many people while I watched, so I decided to find out what its issue was. When other people distracted him, I looked around in the trees from which he mounted his attacks until I found a simple solution. He was protecting his nest. I got close enough to see the tiny bird heads in the nest before he caught wind and flew in front of my face until I put enough space betwixt myself and his brood. I think that he's foolish to put a nest in such a highly trafficked area, but they keep trimming trees for some reason, and so it was probably one of the only ones high enough and nice enough to facilitate his family.
I saw him enough that he eventually stopped pestering me. The first time he dove at me, he made the mistake of doing so while I was holding my racquetball racket which I held up to protect myself. He backed away. In subsequent encounters, all it took was to talk and hold out my hand, and he kept his distance or flew away completely. Today, he just looked at me from a branch and knew that I would keep walking and not pester his nest. That's right; he can be taught!
Most people don't like mockingbirds, particularly the students at whose heads he pecked. However, I realized he was doing what he felt necessary to be a good dad. I have to respect him for that; he's doing what I would like to think I would do to protect my young. He challenges those who threaten a safe zone around the nest. I think he goes a bit too far, but in a society with absent fathers, sperm donors, and baby mamas, I think excessive but honest fathers should be encouraged rather than dissuaded. We need more good dads.
In the end, the angry bird wasn't angry at all, and his attacks weren't personal. They were part of his instinctual drive to look out for the helpless children he sired. I respect that. I admire that. I go out of my way to not aggravate him so that he can protect them when they really need it. Like most people, it just needed me to try to understand before its behavior made sense. There's usually a reason why a bird is angry. It's also usually simple.
Given the beautiful weather this month, I took Memorial Day weekend to ready my yard finally for summer. As I stood on the back porch this evening looking at the plants, the planters, the clear porch, I realized just how far I had come. At the same time, I felt a sense of accomplishment, a sense of peace, and an eagerness to rejoice in my work.
When I moved into this house 4.5 years ago, the yard was a disaster. It took 15 months to clean out and replace the front yard completely. The previous owner made poor decisions, and I had to work around the mess he left in replacing it. Given the uncertainty of my wage, I opted to do the work largely myself, and so it took many months of evenings to accomplish anything visible. Frequently, I finished class at 9PM and felt so exhausted that I did nothing that night. On weekends, I had grading, errands, and chores, so that after hiking I didn't do anything then either. I used furlough days, holidays like today, and a few dedicated replacement days to accomplish the lion's share and save on a project I was quoted $9000 to achieve for a little less than half that sum.
For many months, the yard felt like an eyesore. I was forced to work around debris and badly planned structures and existing landscaping in order to transform what was into what I desired. That's what I do as a chemist. I turn what is into what I desire by changing the conditions. I had rocks stacked on the back porch for years, and I'm so glad to clear the spiders from the house and hose off the porch completely for the first time in so long. I feel great. It looks great. My friend thinks I'll be able to add a significant sum to the asking price for the house when I leave.
A few things remain that must remain due to weather until fall. Most of the rest of the plants must wait until then. I want to do all of that planning and planting together in order to make the work efficient. I decided to keep but modify the covered pagoda in the back (or whatever to call it), but it's quite an endeavor, so I'll leave it for now until I acquire some hands to do the heavy lifting. I also ran out of rocks for the back yard, so I'll have to procure more in order to actually put the finishing touches on the yard. It will look nice. It will be welcoming. It will probably please my Maker.
I know I'm kind of messy and disorganized and disjointed. I know I'm a crackpot and a cracked pot, so I put a few of those out back too. I planted a tree to shade my dog even though he may not live much longer. I think God would feel good in my yard. He sent me here to tend His garden and take good care of it. He gave me a very small spit of land to beautify and nurture. He gave me an even smaller fraction of His children to contact and nurture. However, as I stood on the porch, I felt His approbation which is why I think I felt excited. As I did, five ducks swept down into the estuary in the easement behind my house, and later I saw some hummingbirds checking out the new digs. I hope it will blossom and bloom and bear fruit. At least then something in my life might.
**Tuesday I'll get some pictures posted so you can see how it's changed over the years.**
Here's the video showing from its earliest stage to 27 May 2015.
When I went to the dentist last Thursday, I got more than the cleaning I expect from a hygienist I just barely met. She went on a long diatribe about how I need to remake my life if I want to attract "the right kind of people" into it. Many of her conclusions were just absolutely bizarre, and the justifications for those conclusions even moreso. I have decided to flatly reject her conclusions as a contumely, but I want you to know what lies are being spread in case you hear them too.
This woman cares first and foremost about the paycheck. I earn "enough" that she would give me a shot even though I earn less than she. Excuse me, but if the question of my wage comes up in the first three dates, you're out. This woman refuses to look at a guy who doesn’t earn the same and have the same certifications and requirements. Like so many other women I meet here, even those who have no means of their own, this woman had a minimum pay. Her reason for this was for comfort yes, but also for completely selfish reasons. She intends to work regardless, and so she wants to achieve a certain income minimum. She also wants a certain maximum income because, in her own experience, when people earn above a certain amount, the man tends to find another woman on the side. Wow. Really? Yes, I understand that people in similar or related fields tend to do better; educated people tend to be better together than a brainiac and a bumpkin (I dont' care what the Big Bang Theory tries to prattle about Penny). Well matched is easier, although any two people can make it work if they are committed to each other and to the Lord. That ignores your wage.
Along those same lines, she insisted that I ignore people outside of my field or age bracket. On an actuarial basis, this makes sense. At the same time it ignores Aristotle’s admonition to choose friends for the sake of shared virtue. It views marriage as a business, as a statistical merger of divisions of life. It assumes that common benefit or common interests matter more than common values, beliefs, and norms, which usually transcend age and wage because they are passed on to rising generations. She thinks I should only date other scientists or maybe health care professionals. This belies her ignorance. I find people in my field of expertise to be arrogant and irreverent, and I don't know about health care. We'll see.
Her foremost argument lay in changing the cover story I tell. I was dressed down when I arrived, but she said the look was good but not the brands I was wearing. Basically, if you want to be hit on, you need to wear the right clothes. By this she means right brands, right style, right color, etc. The fact that I wear a suit to lecture isn't good enough; it must be an Armani. The fact that I wear dark jeans and collared shirts to lab and work isn't enough; it must be an outfit that costs me $200. It’s all about the cover story- what’s on the inside only matters if the outside is attractive too.
Nobody seems to ever bother to ask what I seek in a woman. I get all sorts of advice, referrals, and the like about people they think would be perfect, not based on what I seek, but on what they think i should seek. Even this woman admitted trying to get her son to dress the same way she advised me in order to attract the right kind of girls. The right kind compared to what? Right for whom? I know I tend to attract women I don't want, but I also thought that it's what's on the inside that matters most. Why do we choose our chocolates based on what's inside but our mates based simply on their colorful candy shell? I understand that looks matter, but if your personality is two and your looks are a ten, you're a two.
I think this woman was crazy. On the one hand she berated me for doing things that attract 50 year old women. On the other she then suggested a line of clothing that SHE finds attractive (and she's 50). Paradox? She wanted me to adopt what SHE thinks professionals resemble. However, in my profession, we don't usually wear nice clothes because acids, solvents, and dyes destroy our clothing. There are other professional people who get dirty, stinky, and sweaty. Not every professional person goes to work in a suit and just talks. Some of us also have to work at work. Even when she told me where she goes to meet guys, it wouldn't help. My friend has been to the grocer and even to the hardware store with me in my zip code, and I don't live in a part of town where conventional wisdom applies. Unlike this woman, I don't find conferences and such very appealing. Despite my historical fascination with firearms, I have never been to a gun show. I don't even go to Star Trek or comic conventions, and most people consider me a dork. Furthermore, if she means "self help seminars" by conventions, it means she's looking for guys that she can manipulate, which means I should ignore her counsel lock, stock and barrel.
If what matters most is the car, the clothes or the currency, you’re not attracting women; you’re buying one. I know character doesn’t attract on first contact. It’s hard to see character from a quick glance, and even in behavior it’s not always clearly evident. However, there seem to be far too many superficial people who care more for the pageantry, possessions, and prose than the principles. As I have written before, I don't know anyone who chose their mate because he was a great guy (except my mother); most of them married to great men chose him for another reason and then got lucky that he was also great. Too many young women want to brag about their mates; you can see in on Facebutt where they post self portraits of themselves so we can all drool over how hot their mates are or how cute their kids look. That's superficial and shallow, and I refuse to swallow the premise.
It's not the town per se. It's that Las Vegas tends to attract people who are superficial and superfluous. It tells people to come put on airs, lie about everything, sell a cover story not supported by the content, and then it excuses them for the consequences of their debauchery and lasciviousness. The city may forget. THe people they harm? Well that's another question entirely. Las Vegas has more of these people than other places. If I moved to Columbus, OH, for example, I would probably rank among the most attractive men where here I come down more or less just barely above average.
So, I will go on being me. You get to choose the kind of person you want to be, and rather than spend my entire life lying to you and me and everyone inbetween about who I really am, if I am going to be damned anyway, I'll be me. God isn't fooled. Good people aren't fooled. When you stand at judgment, you won't be able to fool yourself anymore when all the acting and costumes and practiced lines melt away to reveal you for who you really are. I may not have much about which to brag, but at least I won't spend my life lying to myself and giving myself medals, promotions, and favors I haven't earned and to which I have no right. I have learned to be content with myself. I am the only person who must deal with me 24/7, and I like who I am. I thought about wearing a Hugo Boss suit next time to the hygienist to prove that wearing a better suit does not make you a better man. I think it would be wasted on her. If she hasn't realized it by 50, I don't think she ever will.
Update: Brian made an interesting comment. What this woman suggests is that I trap a woman into dating me by LYING TO HER about who I am. Semblance matters more than substance; the colorful candy shell matters more than the content. Then, when she complains that "I'm not the person she thought I was", it will be my fault. Well, she believed the advertising. In large part, this is I think why I stick to the beard, the Saturn, and everything else, because I decided while married to my ex wife that if I was going to be damned anyway, I would be damned for being who I really was. You may not like what you see, but you will get what you see. I know women who claim they like WYSIWYG, but most of them like to see what they want to get even if it's a lie. This woman, and many like her, are more interested in a lie as long as it looks good than they are in a smart match. Marriage is hard enough without starting with such low and shallow expectations. It's hard enough without starting it based on superficialities. Lest you think her advice a good idea, consider this scene from Harry Potter. As for women, I once came across a vomit flavored one in my youth too...
How many trips must one take as a minimum to Lowes for a project? When my friend and I set out to finish up the irrigation in the back yard to keep the plants alive until fall when we put the finishing touches on the yard and plant the last plants, we thought we had it made. We made a list, checked it at least six times, and then we set out to Lowes. Even with our combined intellect and experience, it didn't seem to matter.
For starters, the first store didn't have enough of one thing we needed, necessitating a subsequent trip. I don't really understand how they make the decisions regarding how many of each item to keep in stock or how they can run out of something for yard irrigation now that Las Vegas is no longer experiencing a housing boom. There should be plenty of everything in the store for me to revamp from one store inventory. I was wrong, so I drove to another store to pick up another of that item and to get a few things we inevitably forgot anyway.
In addition to that, every project we begin seems to hit an unforseen snag. Owing to some previously poor work by the prior occupant, we had to make a change. In order to fit the pipes around some very poorly poured concrete rather than dig it up, I had to go back and buy a 45 degree elbow so we could bend the pipe around the obstacle, something we could not possibly foresee before we started the project.
Every project, and I mean every project, started by man is prone to mistakes made by man. I got in a groove assembling the pipes so that I actually assembled a set of valves incorrectly. So, back I went to the store for a $0.59 cap so that I could make up for my excitement to get something done independently while my friend worked on some other part of the project. I cut a pipe too short and did a few other things, but we were able to salvage all of the other mistakes without other pieces. No matter how well you plan, eventually you make a mistake, and sometimes you have to go back to the store.
In short, this project alone took three trips, which I found to be interesting. Three is a symbolic number in many cultures and religions. It's also known that things usually come in threes. Whatever the case, I was grateful for the opportunity to stop off after work tonight to pick up the last piece so I can knock it out tonight and get things ready to automate. The best laid plans of mice and men so oft go awry, and I think they know we are human, that we will make mistakes, that we will not think of everything. So many humans like to arrogantly think they can consider everything, plan for everything, and do everything. Lowes shows us that we can't. We'll have to return, to repent, to go back again and again for the tools necessary to make our lives right. We don't have them, but we know where to go to get them.
For many years now, people remind me that you can tell a lot about a person based on how he treats animals. Several times now, I've met women who claim to love animals but don't own any and who are upset about the beagles I love. Mine buck the system when it comes to normal dog behavior, being less likely to shed or howl like so many other people tell me about their beagles. As I have written previously, beagles taught me about selfless love, and the way people respond to dogs really does tell you something about them.
Lots of people own dogs and say they love dogs who don't really care about them. I watch people drag dogs around the neighborhood on leashes or leave their pets in the elements outside. I admit I don't allow a beagle to have the run of the house when I'm away, but I made provision for him to come in from the elements that also kept him away from things I don't want him eating. Maybe I don't spend as much time with him or as much money on food as I should, but I do spend time with him and enjoy watching him run around the yard or house or even at my parents' place. Mostly, I think he just liked being with me. He used to sit in a chair next to me while I would eat or watch TV just to be near me. They really are den animals.
Dogs love to please. My parents' male recognizes me as the first human male alpha dog because I knew him as a puppy. I've had beagles bring me dead rabbits, dead rattlesnakes, or other things as prizes to show they love me. When I came home depressed, he would lick my hands. When I was playful, he bounced around near me. When we went for a walk, he stayed near my side at a close heel. When I was sick or fearful, he would sleep on the floor near the bed to watch out for and over me. You must love dogs because I have seen them love me, and if you love them, you also love a part of me.
My dogs are family to me. Each of my beagles was like one of my own children. In many ways, they are like children, perpetually, and learning to care for and care about them tells me how much someone will care for and care about what I love. I know they shed, they slobber, and they require care, but so will our kids, and if you can't care for a dog, I don't know if you'll care for the rest of my family. Like dogs, the most important thing you can give children is your attention and your presence. Dogs are my family. As a breeder, I gave them life.
I hope that in the end God will look at me like I look at dogs. You've heard that all dogs go to heaven, and maybe all Dougs will too. I miss every one of them that I have lost. I hope they will forgive me for not spending enough time with them when I was a younger breeder. I hope that when I arrive in heaven to be greeted by the animals I have known and loved because I learned most of what I know about love from them. I have seen them forgive me frankly and immediately, even if and when I didn't deserve it as much as I wanted to. I have seen them excited to see me no matter what, no matter when, and no matter how I felt. I have always been welcome in their company, and I hope I will be welcome in His. If we really can be judged by how we treat animals, then I think I know what I can expect from my Father God. They are a major part of the stewardship He granted me while on this earth, and I think I've done ok. At least the dogs seem to think so. You must love dogs. That doesn't mean you have to own one or whatever, but loving them is loving me.
A few years ago, a local and somewhat high ranking member of my Faith in Vegas asked me what I thought was the biggest catalyst of change and seemed surprised when I blamed cell phones. When I left for my missionary service, I knew maybe a handful of people who had them, and then it was only for work. When I returned two years later, cell phones were ubiquitous, so much that people never seem to put them down or put them away. Although it makes it easier to keep in touch, I am not sure that technology becomes the boon we assume it to be. You've heard cliches like "at a time when we are all connected we have never been so distant", and this is true of every technological advancement. For a time at least it divides us, but it's been almost 15 years, and I don't think we'll see it get better. I think it gets worse.
1. people no longer commit
Since you can contact people any time, people no longer seem to know how to make plans and keep them. I had plans to take a friend out last Friday, and when my cell phone battery died, we were no longer able to communicate. This person unwisely chose not to coordinate until the absolute last minute, and by the time we got together we missed the show and ended up with a mediocre night. I was supposed to join some different folks to hike this weekend, but I know from prior experience not to show up early. The time changed from 9AM to 10AM to 11AM, and by then it was too late for me to also attend graduation. It's a good thing I wasn't at the meeting place waiting for them for TWO HOURS. I'd be angry. We make plans, we make promises, and we make purchases, but we upgrade our phones constantly, and we change our plans on the fly.
2. people no longer pay attention
Cell phones distract people from other things around them. A young lady would have walked straight into me this morning if I had not been paying attention because she was focused on her phone rather than on where she was going. There's another young lady I see Tuesday and Thursday that I don't even know what she looks like. Her face is always pointed to her phone in her lap, and she never even looks up to see what is coming or who is there or what's happening. A few years ago, my buddy and I went hiking in Snow Canyon UT and shook our heads when the youths of Utah (Utahrds) came around the bend playing dissonant music from their cell phones. All too often, when I see errant driving on the freeway, the driver is using a cell phone, which is illegal in Nevada while driving, but they put me at risk anyway. I used to have phone numbers memorized and I still take real photos, but now people cannot do anything it seems without their phones, and when the phone crashes they risk losing all of their data and information.
3. people no longer know how to interface like people
Phones dehumanize the people with whom and to whom we speak. We assign cute ring tones and program pictures in, but all too often I think we forget that there's a person on the other side of the line. A friend gave me her phone years ago when mine died, and it was programmed with her vocabulary and guessed words in texting that I would never say to anyone. Type is not anonymity. Our phones are devices to make ourselves popular. We update our Buttbook page, our fanstagram image files, or our atwitter postings to let people know we are cooler or busier. We use them to brag. When there are problems with people around us, rather than assist, we take pictures and post them to social media. Rather than have substantive conversations using proper grammar, spelling, and punctuation, we confine their remarks to the 140 character maximum per message. People assume that I have a smartphone and send me emails instead of calling me, despite the fact I provide my phone number and even when I request that they call me directly. We know because we can see posts that people have their phones, but we sit and wait for people to call or contact us back and wonder why they hate us. We stratify ourselves based on the exposure that we get in terms of likes and shares from our peers who have phones and judge ourselves based on how or if our friends use their phones to boost our egos.
No single change in our technology, sociology, or society carried the power to change civilization like the cell phone. Like so many other technological constructs rather than being a boon it's been corrupted by elements that hurt more than they help. Our phones transfer germs through touch screens, transfer personal data on an insecure cloud, immediately share private details, immediately and irreversibly offend with emotional outbursts, and that's not to mention the chemical and electrical interference to our physiological well-being! Since we can get almost instantaneous feedback, we demand it, and when we don't get it, it causes emotional trauma for many whose egos depend on information that comes through that small box in their pocket. We feel ignored, left out, and unimportant sometimes, and at others we read too much into the apparent approbation and approval of people who provide quick albeit vapid validation. At least in part cell phones catalyze the decline of our species and our civilization. I am not convinced they are a blessing even though they could be. When they force me to get a smart phone, I won't have a phone at all.
This weekend I had the distinguished honor to attend the nursing school graduation ceremony where I saw eight former students become nurses. It was an interesting experience for many people, but most of all I found the paradoxes entertaining. Despite all the other times I hear the cliches about nurses and care, they continued to preach them from the pulpit, and one of the students still believes she's a nurse because she cares about people. How I love naivete!
First among the paradoxes comes the fact that nursing students are not treated with care. Besides the tongue in cheek references to courses or professors the graduates detest, it struck me that the people reading names didn't care enough to ask ahead of time for help pronouncing difficult names. some of the graduates confided in me how poorly they were treated by professors. Just like my own graduate school experience, the nursing faculty seems to think themselves gatekeepers for whom they deem worthy rather than being objective. I know that these students go through a grueling academic regimen only to expect further mistreatment.
One of the speakers spoke about how hard their next year will be. The torture isn't even over yet. These are now brand new nurses, and senior nurses will treat them like incompetent boobs even though these students perhaps worked with those same nurses as students. The hours suck. The load is enormous, and they'll need the four days off every week to recuperate from being overworked and overrun. Some of them will quit after a few years because they burn themselves out trying to get extra shifts and spend their own efforts going above and beyond. there are too many patients and too few people caring for them to do it well, no matter what the keynote speaker admonished.
Finally, the act of nursing begins by dehumanizing the patients. They come in, and we ask them to disrobe, leaving them naked in front of strangers. Then we poke them, prod them, inject them, inspect them, detect them, and all too often neglect them. As a speaker detailed some experiences, it struck me that hospitals resemble in some ways the death camps of genocidal regimes. We distill people down to numbers and treat them like cattle and then claim we care? I don't think that's possible. Deep down, people fear this treatment and consequently delay attending physician visits until the conditions grow worse. In our hour of greatest vulnerability, we stand completely naked in front of strangers who may not have time to care. They see everything, except they do not see us as we are. Patients are people too.
What's missing most from academia, from medicine, and from society generally is a recognition of the humanity of man. A car cuts us off on the highway, and it's easy for us to condemn because we do not know them. It's easy to steal or take advantage of others because we will not see them suffer. it's easy to poke and prod patients because we don't know their pains or travails and because we won't see them again. It's easy to drone on and on as a guest speaker in front of a room of people you never before met and probably won't see again. We forget all too often that what we do always affects people. People need our patience, they need our love, and they need us to pay attention to the fact that they are people too, people who hurt, who bleed, who feel, and who are loved as we are. I know it's easy to point out the problem, but I don't think you can really care about or for people you don't actually know. The patients who feel we really do care can tell. One day, you may be that patient. Will anyone care for or about you?
I've given some thought to my own death of late, probably more than I should, and I have a plan for my own Funeral Services. You will probably find it unconventional, but to those who know me, assuming anyone survives me, it will make perfect sense.
Fist off, I want to be late. For many years when people cut me off, I have told them they shouldn't be late to their own funeral. Most people made me wait, so although I want it to convene on time, I want my coffin rolled in 30 minutes into the service so that I can be fashionably late. Additionally, I want everyone to sit in silence for five minutes before anyone gets up to speak because I had to wait for them so many times.
In lieu of a service, I want a party. I want people to celebrate my death. I wasn't really born for this world anyway. In fact, I was raised to survive and excel in 18th century Vienna. So, rather than mourn, please have a party. I want there to be a pinata of me. Fill it with candy and with paper rolls of quotes I said from my book "Free Thinker" so people can remember the strange and wonderful things I said and believed and have something sweet. Make the pinata look like me so that anyone who doesn't like me can take one last swing at me before they bury me. Also, don't waste money on a fancy coffin. Instead, I want mine made out of pallet wood. Plane it, sand it, and then reassemble it into my coffin. I didn't care what people thought of how I looked in life. Provide crayons, markers and other things, and let people write on it instead. Let them vent if they like. It's my party, and I'll die if I want to.
Rather than speeches about my life or my work, I want people to talk about the things in which I believe. Potential topics include: Constitutional government, the natural wonders of the earth, science and science fiction, or Christmas. Yes, I like that last one most of all. I don't want this to be about me. I want it to be my last words to the world and those who come to pay respects. If you have kind things to say to me, tell me now. Don't wait until I'm dead.
For music, I would like my mix CD to play. Those songs tell you about me, my life, my beliefs, and my priorities. Ok, they're not really funeral songs, but I'm not there anyway, so I won't be alive to be offended. Secondly, I would like the meeting to begin with "Joy to the World". I know it's a Christmas hymn. So what? At the end, I would like them to sing "Rise Up, O Men of God". If someone likes, they can put together an acapela group and sing something from "The Music Man" because I loved that show or "Adelweiss" because I love Austria.
I don't want a member of the clergy to speak. If anyone wants to do something regarding my life as a Christian, you can display pictures of people I loved. You can post pictures from Austria, from my box labeled "Ghosts of Girlfriends Past", of my family having fun together, or from students. On the headstone, put my name followed by my mantra: "Rise and rise again until lambs become lions".
I want there to be lots of dessert. I want people to know that I felt that life should be sweet, should be enjoyed. I want them to have something delicious as a consequence of my life.
Oh, and if you change this because you don't like it, I'll haunt you until you die, because I can. That's not a threat; it's a promise.
One of the worst things about being a professor is the people, which is unfortunate because our job depends almost entirely on people. Most of the time, as much as I hate the shenanigans, I let it go, but last week, while I was out for bereavement, Clueless Joe threw me under the bus rather than admit his own ineptitude, and I am not happy. Today he came in without a shred of penitence, and I thought you ought to know about these people in Higher Ed.
Many members of higher education look down on you because of their lofty educational level. It's not always the case, but in truth very few of them recognize that it's not stratification as much as specialization. I know a great deal about polyphenolics and diterpenoids in Rosacea subjected to abiotic stress (things you smell and taste in the rose family), but my students laugh to think I know almost zero anatomy. When I talk to James, I sometimes think, "well, I've heard those words before" but don't understand what he's talking about. He paid me the great honor of asking me to proofread his lecture notes on Biochemistry. He's an analytical chemist; I'm a biochemist. However, Clueless Joe pretends and portends to have all knowledge about everything under the sun which is funny since he frequently invades my work space to ask what I find to be simple questions about basic chemistry. He also seems inordinately impressed by simple demos. It's like watching a child at his first fireworks.
Many members of higher education refuse to do things that they consider to be beneath them. Rather than proactively search for the pH meters I forgot to leave out on Monday, he sent emails roasting me for failure to perform. My superiors, cognizant of my circumstances and the reason for my absentia, deflected it. They also suggested he try something else, but he waited until 9PM last Monday night to notify anyone, far too late to have any effect. I can't fix a problem I don't know exists, and I don't understand why he can't be familiar with his own work area. If he simply looked through cabinets in the lab, he would find the pH meters; the technician I asked to set them out Tuesday had no trouble finding them and he doesn't even have a BS! Clearly education isn't everything, is it, Mr Potter?
Many members of higher education blame others for their own incompetence, making mountains out of molehills. Even after Amanda addressed it with Clueless Joe, Joe refused to let it go. I got another condescending email Wednesday last, and he came in today as if I was an incompetent boob. Although far advanced in age compared to me, he doesn't seem capable of handling this like an adult, so I'll take it to my superiors and let them put him in his place. Clueless Joe is an adjunct, and as much as we need him he is easily replaced and doesn't seem to understand that. You either get in line or they replace you.
I really detest being thrown under the bus by incompetent people masquerading behind lofty titles and titular credentials. I remember Dr. Reitz told me "An expert is someone who knows more and more about less and less until he knows everything about nothing at all." This man, Clueless Joe, must have specialized so much that he doesn't know anything besides how to cast aspersions and lay blame. Twice, I cited him for failure to enforce proper personal protection equipment use by students, and I have to find something for him almost every week. I am not sure he's literate, but he has a PhD. Clearly that means nothing. I sign my emails with the signature "No fancy title" usually, because I know that I am just an ordinary guy with a fascination with a small part of the Creator's works. I know I'm a Clueless Joe. Unfortunately too few people do.
Our congregation got a new Bishop, and as usual, the outgoing Bishop brought up a topic that really resonated with me. I will be sad to see him go, because he was good at pointing out things that I had never seen that way before. Like last time I mentioned him, this particular sermon revolved around a song he knew, one I had never heard, but one which I think you should.
In order to be useful, many things must first be broken. This doesn't mean every step requires a break, because children don't enjoy toys that are already broken, but things we know and seek are made from other things. I teach in Chemistry class the following practiced personal anecdote: "In order to rearrange matter, bonds must be broken". None of us have need directly for almonds or pickles or chocolate, and by themselves studs and sheetrock and spackle don't provide much of a shelter from the storm. It is only as we repurpose these items to our benefit that they become valuable to us, and that requires us to break them into other things.
Chemistry involves converting what we have under specific circumstances into what we desire. At the very basic level, bonds are broken constantly and then rebuilt. Broken down, each of the raw materials can be rebuilt into something different, something better, something more useful. I don't think it's the broken part so much that interests God as much as it offers Him the chance to remake us from what we were into something that we could be but couldn't see until something broke us.
People don't usually like broken things or to be broken. It makes us appear weak. It makes us appear that we are not in control. Truth is that we are weak and we control far less than we believe. I greet people who opine the fact that so many things lie outside their control with "welcome to adulthood where the illusion of control is made up, accomplishments don't matter, and people will laugh at every mistake you make". However, I love it when lego sets are broken down into pieces. Anyone who ever hurt themself trying to separate lego blocks knows that it's no sign of weakness or shame to use the special tool provided for that.
It is embarassing yes when you break yourself against the commandments. it shows us that we are less than we ought. However, as I tell my students, getting an F doesn't mean you are a failure or that you must continue to fail. It shows you where to refocus your efforts. In the case of commandments, our broken promises to God, we cannot save ourselves. These opportunities show us where to focus our efforts and more importantly our faith. Far too many members of my own Faith attempt to save themselves before they turn to Christ or turn to Him more as a consultant than the General Contractor. It's pride. CS Lewis wrote in Mere Christianity about how uncomfortable it is to invite Christ to remake your life. We just want him to repaint, redecorate, and rearrange things in our lives. He is not satisfied with that. He begins knocking down walls and adding on wings and floors because He is making us a fit abode for the King.
As the song and scripture remind us, in order to be made well, made whole, and made better, we must have a broken heart and a contrite spirit. Many of God's choicest souls went through longer and deeper troughs than anyone else, not to test them, but to temper them and make them ready for reassembly. When a member of my congregation said farewell back in April because he is getting married and moving away, he told me that some people must wander longer in the wilderness. Each of us must spend some time wandering in Sinai, being made ready to enter the Land of Promise. In order for His people to inherit the goodly land, God had to make sure they had broken hearts. I remember Neal Maxwell once saying that when we are ready for planting God will stop plowing. Only when the soil is properly broken can it accept the seed of faith, the seeds of success, and the seeds of salvation.
Christ Himself is the example of broken things lifted on high. He condescended below all things. He was betrayed by friends, taken before an illegal trial, arrested without charge, tried without counsel, convicted without witnesses, condemned without jurisprudence, and executed without appeal. In order to lift us up when we were broken, in order to put our lives back together once we break ourselves against the commandments, Christ had to be broken too. If we truly desire to be where He is, we must follow His example, which means that after we break ourselves against the commandments we break our own pride and haughtiness and bow before Him to plead for mercy. CS Lewis wrote that the prayers in trough periods please God best. When we are broken, then we are truly honest with, completely open to, and finally ready for Him. God loves broken things. Those are the things He can use to build into what He desires.
