Life has been "peaceful" as the McCann brothers posited in Secondhand Lions. The overall scene is serene, but circumstances have been occurring within the framework to keep things exciting.
Tonight, I attended my good friend John's 22nd birthday party at a bowling alley. It was a bit of a hole-in-the-wall place, with perhaps ten lanes, crummy pizza at ridiculous prices (the man of the hours described it as "Two frozen pizzas stacked on top of each other for $15. It's not worth it"), and an eclectic mix of tunes pumping on the sound system. The last part was interesting to my friend and the other guests - 2 song choices for a dollar. John went first, picking out Florence and the Machine & Garbage. Following that, the lovely Hanna chose Britney Spears and Carly Rae Jepsen.
As for the bowling itself. John has excellent form as a bowler and ended the first game at 149, with 5 strikes. I matched him with the first two strikes, but what followed in between were petering 1's and 5's, ending with 68. Which brought to light a quirk of the lanes - Sometimes a gutterball would inexplicably ramp up off the wall and ricochet a backdoor mechanism, knocking down pins from beyond the grave. Hanna lobbed the ball left-handedly down the lane, ending with a 54. She was cheerful about her throws though, and I hope her skills improve as the night goes on. There is almost a bell curve for non-bowlers like me, where practice and endurance trade-off as the night continues. Steph, the last lady in my set, was in the same boat as me, being that she remembered the idea of bowling, but it was like a bike left in the rain - the gears needed a little work before the rust wore off for a smooth ride. Her final score was 62, I believe.
Now, as to the total experience: John is a great fellow to know - humble with many talents, a rare combination that leaves me in admiration of his abilities without resentment towards any arrogance he might have assumed as an additional swagger. He performed in a Beastie Boys cover band called "Trip N' Balls" as a one-time joke at a friend's club. Their show went well and they got asked to do it again. They've continued playing shows, and are going to have a New Years concert soon. Look 'em up on Facebook if you are in the Indianapolis area.
Steph and Hanna I met for the first time tonight. They had excellent senses of humor and were pleasant conversationalists. I was slightly distracted by the snowfalling and the implications of a safe trip home before midnight and snow clogs the roads. Friends of John, if you read this, yes, I really wish that I could have had more time in which to get to know you, for you all made a favorable impression on me. The three late arrivals looked like Sons of Anarchy's younger and wittier cousins from the Midwest, with their leather jackets and satisfied, comfortable-with-themselves, personalities.
I had a wedding I committed to attending tomorrow and had to break off after a game to return home, rest and ready myself for that. I am happy for my friends, hitting their transitional points in their lives & I pray their rides are smooth, and in the absence of that, that what they learn from the obstacles grows the bonds of their character and relationships with others.
As an endnote, I am soon leaving my library job of nearly five-and-a-half years. This is a bittersweet time, as I truly enjoy the company of those with whom I've been working. There has arisen a job opportunity in a field of my studies in college, and between learning the ropes of that position and the obligations of a new semester, something had to give. This job is something that I've held for a quarter of my life and the experiences and lessons I've learned have grown me as a person - realizing that I can do certain services that are a bit outside my typical comfort zone.
I am a closeted perfectionist - not wanting to let anyone see what I am doing until I feel confident that I know how to do it reasonably well. I invest myself in my work & want people to like it. It took a while to learn a happy medium between distancing myself from my work and taking feedback too personally. I am excited and nervous about this new stage in life, it is hard to be vulnerable, but sometimes I must risk failing to have an opportunity to reap a reward.
Lord, give me the patience, wisdom, and fortitude as I need it. I may be stubborn sometimes, but I thank You for not giving up and gently encouraging Me to let go to the things keeping Me from growing. I need Thee every hour, and I learn anew the depth of Your wonders in the everyday.
Friday, December 28, 2012
Saturday, December 22, 2012
Identity - Crisis
It is curious the effect of names and the power they wield in shaping behavior. It is not the words themselves, but the idea and connotation behind them to the listener and speaker. Communication is an everyday wonder taken for granted. I am most aware of its' power in the absence more than the effectiveness. I could continue down that path in greater detail, but other events sparked me to post again.
It was something so simple as a vacation. I enjoyed having a couple days off with my family, without the interference of internet access, which is more often a distractor than an accomplisher of tasks for me. When I returned and checked my microblog on Twitter, I was dismayed to discover that I'd been hacked. Phantom me had posted false links to my feed and direct messaged others. Three followers inquired as to the veracity behind me contacting them in that manner. I apologized to the three, and proceeded to delete the offending messages.
When I checked back later, I discovered that, although my feed was unmolested, False Falchion Malacandra had not desisted the latter attack. I changed my password and deleted twitter access on my mobile device and things have calmed since, but it raises a larger question? I, who use an alias online as a passing amusement, witnessed the ease that someone else can assume my cloak and mask. How much time, effort, and personality did I invest in my account? Truthfully, I enjoy the access to people that twitter offers - an opportunity to speak a timely word of encouragement or praise to writers, performers, and friends whose work I admire. It allows me to contact people quickly on their mobile devices, ask for opinions and availability.
Who am I? How many reflections do I reveal in my own life? How many excuses and ideas do I hide behind? How much of me is truly self-created? My current answer is a great deal of the source material may belong to the inspiration of another, but my understanding and implementation of it is my own. The glory of free will, work, and options. Like a hypothetical body, each interaction between intention and action is an exercise in my continuing evolution of character manifested. As a creature of habit, my choices will become a routine, my actions do shape the course of my life and the abilities I will be able to offer to those around me.
As I rejoin the legions of the plugged in generation, examining the live feed of interactions of others on a grand stage, I believe that as people age, they reveal more of their true colors. As life progresses, people become more of themselves, only with louder actions and brushstrokes. Inaction is also a choice - I am sometimes tempted to fade away into a shadow, observing the lives of others instead of contributing my own part to present histories. On my own, I shall not change without monumental and superhuman strength of will and belief, I need a Savior to transform my life into something greater than I could ever dream or comprehend.
In the end, my identity's importance isn't who I am, but in whom it needs to be found. My life is hid in Him - Fearing, loving, and worshipping Him with all I can muster now, and beyond as I grow in His grace.
It was something so simple as a vacation. I enjoyed having a couple days off with my family, without the interference of internet access, which is more often a distractor than an accomplisher of tasks for me. When I returned and checked my microblog on Twitter, I was dismayed to discover that I'd been hacked. Phantom me had posted false links to my feed and direct messaged others. Three followers inquired as to the veracity behind me contacting them in that manner. I apologized to the three, and proceeded to delete the offending messages.
When I checked back later, I discovered that, although my feed was unmolested, False Falchion Malacandra had not desisted the latter attack. I changed my password and deleted twitter access on my mobile device and things have calmed since, but it raises a larger question? I, who use an alias online as a passing amusement, witnessed the ease that someone else can assume my cloak and mask. How much time, effort, and personality did I invest in my account? Truthfully, I enjoy the access to people that twitter offers - an opportunity to speak a timely word of encouragement or praise to writers, performers, and friends whose work I admire. It allows me to contact people quickly on their mobile devices, ask for opinions and availability.
Who am I? How many reflections do I reveal in my own life? How many excuses and ideas do I hide behind? How much of me is truly self-created? My current answer is a great deal of the source material may belong to the inspiration of another, but my understanding and implementation of it is my own. The glory of free will, work, and options. Like a hypothetical body, each interaction between intention and action is an exercise in my continuing evolution of character manifested. As a creature of habit, my choices will become a routine, my actions do shape the course of my life and the abilities I will be able to offer to those around me.
As I rejoin the legions of the plugged in generation, examining the live feed of interactions of others on a grand stage, I believe that as people age, they reveal more of their true colors. As life progresses, people become more of themselves, only with louder actions and brushstrokes. Inaction is also a choice - I am sometimes tempted to fade away into a shadow, observing the lives of others instead of contributing my own part to present histories. On my own, I shall not change without monumental and superhuman strength of will and belief, I need a Savior to transform my life into something greater than I could ever dream or comprehend.
In the end, my identity's importance isn't who I am, but in whom it needs to be found. My life is hid in Him - Fearing, loving, and worshipping Him with all I can muster now, and beyond as I grow in His grace.
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