Today I had the priveledge of joining my friends Nate and Ros in their wedding ceremony. It was a beautiful, unique ceremony officiated by my friend Dennis Mansfield. Dennis did a great job and blogged about the whole experience as it was happening--somehow.
Weddings are a funny thing. I was talking to my friend Stephen today, who's 14, about how kids hate weddings. That wasn't my experience growing up--I usually sat in awe at them, watching these two peoples' lives change forever. This person that used to simply be cousin or friend would soon always be with another, and everything would be different.
It wasn't until I grew older that I started to dislike weddings. The first reason (man, I'm selfish here) is the weird gift-giving, composed of a list so thorough it confuses me. I suppose absurdly specific lists are now becoming more common at Christmas and on Birthdays (thank you Amazon wishlist!), but the whole thing feels so contrived. It feels like tradition steeped in tradition, and rarely speaks of my good-will but more often of my guilty conciense not wanting to show up empty-handed.
The second reason is that it accentuates my own lack of being married. I recently heard Valentine's referred to as "Singles' Awareness Day." Weddings seem to have the same effect. More than at any other social gathering, during a wedding reception I feel alone as I talk to people. I move from couple to couple, trying but unable to find my place. So many times today, I'd find myself talking to a couple only to see them wander off in their minds to their own special day. Maybe this awkwardness is why it's always a good idea to serve your guests alcohol.
I didn't catch the garder today. Neither did I try. I stood out in the crowd of single boys waiting to catch, but put myself in what I considered the least likely position to wind up getting hitched next. Not only do I not want to be married any time soon, but after already feeling awkward I didn't want to find myself in the center of anyone's attention.
Regarding leaving a wedding, I've decided there's no good answer for an in-town ceremony. When I was visiting Karl's in Duluth or my cousin Naomi's in Joplin, the pressure seemed to be eased on this issue. I was at the mercy of my rides on both those occasions, and during the latter ended up staying for all the clean-up. After travelling by bus multiple days for both those events, it only made sense to stay as long as possible. And, the out-of-town weddings I've attended have been more about seeing the people I know and love before and after the ceremony, and less about the thing itself. I think that has helped.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Friday, January 2, 2009
Pertaining to procrastination and neglect
Today my friend Colin wrote about neglect, among other things, on his blog. It got me to thinking. Sometimes I'll use the word "procrastination," which sounds like a form a laziness, and something everyone does. I just pass it off as "being a procrastinator" and accept it as one of my character flaws. But today Colin used the word "neglect," and I found that for me, that word has more sting to it.
Right now I have a Web site project that's already two days overdue. I say already because my timeline was initially tight, and now I've passed due. It makes me look at this habit I have of neglecting things. Be it toward my own health or exercise, the cleanliness of my living space, work projects or toward caring for those around me. Neglect is pretty commonplace in my life, and stems from selfishness, mostly. And fear, occasionally. Sometimes I'll neglect a decision because the weight of the outcome is frightening (that relates to my last post, and not really stepping out to pursue the things I want to do). Other times I'll neglect the beginning of a project because starting can be so intimidating.
Reality: Life is full of decisions, options, things that begin, and things that end. When I shy away from any of these things, it leaves me stagnated—doing nothing (except becoming a Tetris master). But I find myself choosing an alternate reality. One in which my indecisiveness and lack of self-discipline don't actually hurt me. I think I need to wake up and realize that though I'm still young, I'm not as young as I once was. Life will start. Life has started for many people around me, and yet I feel I'm leaving myself behind, choking on their dust.
Right now I have a Web site project that's already two days overdue. I say already because my timeline was initially tight, and now I've passed due. It makes me look at this habit I have of neglecting things. Be it toward my own health or exercise, the cleanliness of my living space, work projects or toward caring for those around me. Neglect is pretty commonplace in my life, and stems from selfishness, mostly. And fear, occasionally. Sometimes I'll neglect a decision because the weight of the outcome is frightening (that relates to my last post, and not really stepping out to pursue the things I want to do). Other times I'll neglect the beginning of a project because starting can be so intimidating.
Reality: Life is full of decisions, options, things that begin, and things that end. When I shy away from any of these things, it leaves me stagnated—doing nothing (except becoming a Tetris master). But I find myself choosing an alternate reality. One in which my indecisiveness and lack of self-discipline don't actually hurt me. I think I need to wake up and realize that though I'm still young, I'm not as young as I once was. Life will start. Life has started for many people around me, and yet I feel I'm leaving myself behind, choking on their dust.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Pertaining mostly to my interest in the film industry
Back in High School, I had to do a report in my Senior year that involved not only extensive research, but a physical, hands-on piece as well. In those days, I was pretty sure that I wanted to go in to film directing as a career, so I chose Direction as my topic. I learned a lot from that paper, and from the project that accompanied it. I wrote, directed, and edited a movie titled "What's the Scariest Thing That's Ever Happened to You?" Not an especially inspired title, I know. Give me some slack, it was my first film.
And my last, for quite some time.
After High School I chose to take a year off to step back and really evaluate what I wanted to do. At the end of that year, I was still pretty determined to pursue film, but felt that I lacked the foundation of character I wanted before entering into the big, scary, secular world of cinema. At that time, I chose to enter the School of Christian Character Development then offered by Vineyard Boise.
At the end of that school, I found myself no longer sure of what I wanted to do. I think I'd begun pursuing so many different things (toying with the idea of graphic design, or Biblical studies program), that I spread myself too thin. Vineyard Boise's Children's Ministry offered me a job making little videos to show to the kids each Sunday and I jumped at that. Throughout the school year I'd been in charge of making little skits that our class would perform for the kids, and by the end of the year some of those had morphed into videos. The job just made sense at the time--I'd gain a lot of experience in film, and I figured if I could get a 12 year-old to act I'd have the inside scoop on inspiring a believable performance from anyone.
Today, I'm again thinking about what a career in the film industry would look like. But there's that word--career. It always scares me. I enjoy doing so many things that I hate the idea of only pursuing one of them for the rest of my days here on Earth. If I were to do that, I think I'd more than likely end up having six different midlife crises, all separated by only a handful of years.
I have, however, been satisfied with my abilities in that field. In the summer of 2008, Brandon asked me if I would direct a film he was writing, titled "The Baseball." I almost didn't take the opportunity, but something pushed me toward it. After entering into the project, I found it very refreshing. My job had become very stale, to where I felt like I'd work on projects for an obscene amount of time and have them go nowhere. This film was different for me, in that the whole process from pre- to post-production lasted no more than two months. I found a lot of satisfaction in making a decision and seeing it acted on almost immediately--whether good or bad. Brandon did a very nice write-up of "The Baseball" that he posted on his site.
Brandon and I both did a lot of legwork to make that happen. He had a lot of time into the script, and then all the aspects of producing (collecting the actors, the crew, etc., and figuring out all the scheduling), cinematographer, editor, and composer. As director, I did some location scouting and ended up settling on my parents' house in Nampa, which (along with the neighboring rental they were then fixing up) worked great for all the scenes of the film. Then, when actually directing the actors, I was very proud of their performances and the things we would do together--suggestions I'd give them that they'd take and make their own, making the whole project very solid.
I almost said that I didn't say that to build my own ego. That's not true. I think that in some ways I'm writing this post for exactly that purpose. Not for the reader's benefit, but for my own. I have a tendency to doubt my abilities in everything I do, so it helps me every once in a while to pat myself on the back. I know it's sick, but the reality of the situation is that if I don't first believe that I did well on something, rarely will anyone else's (positive) opinion have much effect on me.
Wrap it up, David. But that's hard to do. For now, I'm still just wandering around my mind, trying to decide what to do next. I think immediately, since I need money, I'll probably work somewhere like an Applebee's or something else that I won't feel too committed too. Don't let me do that too long, though, friends, or else I may never step out and do something that really intimidates me.
And my last, for quite some time.
After High School I chose to take a year off to step back and really evaluate what I wanted to do. At the end of that year, I was still pretty determined to pursue film, but felt that I lacked the foundation of character I wanted before entering into the big, scary, secular world of cinema. At that time, I chose to enter the School of Christian Character Development then offered by Vineyard Boise.
At the end of that school, I found myself no longer sure of what I wanted to do. I think I'd begun pursuing so many different things (toying with the idea of graphic design, or Biblical studies program), that I spread myself too thin. Vineyard Boise's Children's Ministry offered me a job making little videos to show to the kids each Sunday and I jumped at that. Throughout the school year I'd been in charge of making little skits that our class would perform for the kids, and by the end of the year some of those had morphed into videos. The job just made sense at the time--I'd gain a lot of experience in film, and I figured if I could get a 12 year-old to act I'd have the inside scoop on inspiring a believable performance from anyone.
Today, I'm again thinking about what a career in the film industry would look like. But there's that word--career. It always scares me. I enjoy doing so many things that I hate the idea of only pursuing one of them for the rest of my days here on Earth. If I were to do that, I think I'd more than likely end up having six different midlife crises, all separated by only a handful of years.
I have, however, been satisfied with my abilities in that field. In the summer of 2008, Brandon asked me if I would direct a film he was writing, titled "The Baseball." I almost didn't take the opportunity, but something pushed me toward it. After entering into the project, I found it very refreshing. My job had become very stale, to where I felt like I'd work on projects for an obscene amount of time and have them go nowhere. This film was different for me, in that the whole process from pre- to post-production lasted no more than two months. I found a lot of satisfaction in making a decision and seeing it acted on almost immediately--whether good or bad. Brandon did a very nice write-up of "The Baseball" that he posted on his site.
Brandon and I both did a lot of legwork to make that happen. He had a lot of time into the script, and then all the aspects of producing (collecting the actors, the crew, etc., and figuring out all the scheduling), cinematographer, editor, and composer. As director, I did some location scouting and ended up settling on my parents' house in Nampa, which (along with the neighboring rental they were then fixing up) worked great for all the scenes of the film. Then, when actually directing the actors, I was very proud of their performances and the things we would do together--suggestions I'd give them that they'd take and make their own, making the whole project very solid.
I almost said that I didn't say that to build my own ego. That's not true. I think that in some ways I'm writing this post for exactly that purpose. Not for the reader's benefit, but for my own. I have a tendency to doubt my abilities in everything I do, so it helps me every once in a while to pat myself on the back. I know it's sick, but the reality of the situation is that if I don't first believe that I did well on something, rarely will anyone else's (positive) opinion have much effect on me.
Wrap it up, David. But that's hard to do. For now, I'm still just wandering around my mind, trying to decide what to do next. I think immediately, since I need money, I'll probably work somewhere like an Applebee's or something else that I won't feel too committed too. Don't let me do that too long, though, friends, or else I may never step out and do something that really intimidates me.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Monday, December 29, 2008
Goody Two-shoes
A recent conversation with a friend reminded me of one of my least-favorite phrases, "Goody Two-shoes." In the context of our Google chat, my friend was referring to the fact that I was uninterested in his newfound ability to pirate Adobe's software.
I've never felt the need to make people feel good about their sins. Sometimes it makes me appear judgmental, I suppose, but the reality of the situation is their attempted assault on my character reflects more on them. Often, the only reason someone would refer to another as being too good would be to lessen their guilt about their own wrongdoing.
One of the adverse effects of this whole thing is that it makes me want to lash out in anger. I won't mince words--being insulted in this way makes me furious. It implies that my attempts to live life in the most honest way I can is somehow encroaching on their ability to live in whichever way they are accustomed to. Though I can see how my integrity next to their lack thereof could make someone feel bad, I don't understand how it is my responsibility to make someone feel good about everything they do.
Normally, I try not to go out of my way to point out sin in another's life, but in this situation--when they're trying to push it on me--how can I do anything but speak up? I suppose the question is, though, how do I do that without becoming self-righteous? And what if my attempts at humility are still seen as arrogant?
This brings me again to the conclusion that I can live my life only for myself and for God.
But then I fear that perhaps I'll build such high walls regarding people ("what you think of me is irrelevant") that I'll never connect.
I've never felt the need to make people feel good about their sins. Sometimes it makes me appear judgmental, I suppose, but the reality of the situation is their attempted assault on my character reflects more on them. Often, the only reason someone would refer to another as being too good would be to lessen their guilt about their own wrongdoing.
One of the adverse effects of this whole thing is that it makes me want to lash out in anger. I won't mince words--being insulted in this way makes me furious. It implies that my attempts to live life in the most honest way I can is somehow encroaching on their ability to live in whichever way they are accustomed to. Though I can see how my integrity next to their lack thereof could make someone feel bad, I don't understand how it is my responsibility to make someone feel good about everything they do.
Normally, I try not to go out of my way to point out sin in another's life, but in this situation--when they're trying to push it on me--how can I do anything but speak up? I suppose the question is, though, how do I do that without becoming self-righteous? And what if my attempts at humility are still seen as arrogant?
This brings me again to the conclusion that I can live my life only for myself and for God.
But then I fear that perhaps I'll build such high walls regarding people ("what you think of me is irrelevant") that I'll never connect.
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