Once upon a time, you could go to the movies, and find a decent (if somewhat cutesey) PG-13 related "family" comedy. For the most part (except for bad remakes and sequels) they have gone by the wayside, caught between the upper millstone of simon-pure family entertainment and the nether millstone of raunchy R-rated (or unrated) comedic movies that pull no punches and do not accept children under 17. As I thought about the movies I have seen recently, I realized that I have not seen a PG-13 rated movie since Star Wars, and that was hardly a comedy. Both Corpse Bride and March of the Penguins were both very family-friendly movies, and both The Forty Year Old Virgin and the Aristocrats were most definitely not.
Why has the PG-13 rated family comedy died? The same reason why the grays are disappearing all over the our world. PG-13 related comedies are often not that family friendly. Sure, they don't use too many swear words, or have graphic scenes of sex and violence, but their language is far from pure, there are often a lot of scenes showing disrespect to parents, sometimes even scatalogical (read: potty) humor. There are also large amounts of scantily clad women in such movies, doing enough to tease, but not enough to satisfy. Indeed, they are neither pure enough for the family crowed or raunchy enough for the "mature" crowed. And so PG-13 rated comedies are gradually being left by the wayside for either their cleaner or their dirtier cousins, both of whom are performing much better at the box office.
It is not only in the realm of movies, of course, that the middle ground is gradually disappearing in the face of assaults from both sides. The same is true with politics as well. But rather than talk about that, I'd like to talk about the randomness of the critiques of dating. I had been familiar with the critique of dating from the puritan crowd (Joshua Harris and company) for sometime, but I was just recently acquainted with the organized criticism of dating from the other side. I found it, at a site called www.catch27.com. This site contains large amounts of people of mostly loose morals (though not all fall into that category) and where people trade cards and look for random hookups. I need better friends--friends who don't invite me to such sites. *Sigh*. I'm really not into random hookups. I'm just not that kind of person. Of course, I'm not really satisfied with the solution of Joshua Harris, which sort of denies the ugly realities of trying to find someone to love. And I am never one deny reality, no matter how ugly.
There seems to be ever-dimishing room for such people as I, though. It is a most unsettling place to be, between Scylla and Charybdis, between those who shut their eyes to reality in order to avoid anything unpleasant, and those who relish in sin and debauchery. May there always be some room for sanity and candor and true (rather than self) righteousness in this world, even if that room is shrinking.
Friday, September 30, 2005
Sunday, September 25, 2005
Everyone is justified in their own eyes...
I find it amusing, and sometimes irksome, to read the blogs of other people. I know, people probably feel the same way about reading mine. Blogs are a great way to blow off steam, like personal diaries, but unlike personal diaries, they are inherently public as a result of their being, well, online. Therefore, it's probably not a good idea to post something that one does not want read by a wide (and sometimes hostile) audience. That advice, like most good advice, is much easier given than followed. Thankfully, this will not be another rant on blogger ettiquite, because I'm really the wrong person to go on a high horse about politeness. I will leave that to others more qualified.
However, that was a lead in to what this entry is about, and that is the self-justication that people engage in on a daily, if not more frequent, basis. For better or worse, the internet has provided everyone the chance to be their own expert about whatever they want to talk about (an opprotunity I grasp personally with both hands). It also, though, allows people to be seen as they want to be seen, and sometimes, that isn't a pretty thing. It is this self-justification that I wish to speak about today, knowing full well that I am not immune to the charge either.
Recently, I read a blog entry in a livejournal blog written by the youngest son of a minister in United who is openly gay. Having written in the past (and probably in the future) for United's Anchor magazine, the real sin I am commenting about is not his aberrant attraction (which, like any sinful pull, must be resisted by the Christian). What is to be criticised though, no less because it is so common, is the self-justification by which everyone excuses their own sins while blasting others for theirs. Every man is right in his own eyes, as it were. The blogger in question accuses his father of spousal abuse (a serious, if not uncommon, accusation, and one that often plagues divorced couples, even my own parents). He (the young man) uses this case of being a bad husband to justify his own sin, that is, seeking a good husband for himself.
Then all the other classic forms of self-justification come in. After the comparison of one's own virtuous (?!) behavior with the self-righteous and hypocritical judgments of others, there follows other rather standard ploys. There is the adamant refusal to admit that one's own personal sin is, in fact, wrong. There is the comparison of a hypothetical value of one's own supposed sin with the large value of someone else's known sin. There is the claim that the support one receives from others is bona fide acceptance of all areas of conduct, and as proof that a certain action is not wrong. There is usually some sort of biological or environmental justification for the behavior that reduces one's own personal responsibility for the actions that result. Anything that would attempt to create any pangs of conscience over the action must be explained away, either by selective definition of terms, or by a rigid adherence to cultural context at the expense of transcendent and eternal standards of righteousness. To put it more simply, "that's just what people thought at the time."
With the rise of the blog, this sort of self-justification has reached a whole new standard of ubiquity. The blog is an easy way to quickly (unless one decides to type long rants, as I am often guilty of doing) toss off one's thoughts, often without concern for grammatical correctness or flow. The main goal is to toss off one's own personal thoughts as truth, making us all our own authorities, and publishing our own thoughts to a candid, and hopefully favorable world. If all else fails, and our blogs receive too much bad press (and not enough support), there is always the expedient of making the blog a private one, and thus limiting the right to read and review to those who we know to be in favor of what we say. Anything is acceptable in order to support our own fervent belief in the righteousness of our behavior and conduct. All of those who attack us must be discredited by pointing to their own sins, and all of our mistakes must be explained away so that we are not responsible.
There is one advantage to the fact that this sort of behavior (which always existed, formerly in more private media, is now in public. This means that one's behavior is more transparent than ever before. With the multiplication of our own words, it has become all the more simple to compare one's words with one's actions, to record idle words slipping out (that happens all too often for me at least) and to point where people need to improve. It also allows people the opportunity to form their thoughts with some knowledge of where they are likely to find support, and where they are likely to find criticism. For those who are not scared into the shell of "private" posts by the feedback, it is an opportunity to make one's reasoning stronger, to make one's speech (and really, blogging is more like speech than like writing) more careful and better thought out, and to make one's skin at least a little tougher and thicker. These need not be bad, but they depend on refusing to merely use this beautiful medium of the blog as an instrument of self-justification, but rather as an opprotunity for reflection, and an opportunity for others to reflect on your thoughts as well.
However, that was a lead in to what this entry is about, and that is the self-justication that people engage in on a daily, if not more frequent, basis. For better or worse, the internet has provided everyone the chance to be their own expert about whatever they want to talk about (an opprotunity I grasp personally with both hands). It also, though, allows people to be seen as they want to be seen, and sometimes, that isn't a pretty thing. It is this self-justification that I wish to speak about today, knowing full well that I am not immune to the charge either.
Recently, I read a blog entry in a livejournal blog written by the youngest son of a minister in United who is openly gay. Having written in the past (and probably in the future) for United's Anchor magazine, the real sin I am commenting about is not his aberrant attraction (which, like any sinful pull, must be resisted by the Christian). What is to be criticised though, no less because it is so common, is the self-justification by which everyone excuses their own sins while blasting others for theirs. Every man is right in his own eyes, as it were. The blogger in question accuses his father of spousal abuse (a serious, if not uncommon, accusation, and one that often plagues divorced couples, even my own parents). He (the young man) uses this case of being a bad husband to justify his own sin, that is, seeking a good husband for himself.
Then all the other classic forms of self-justification come in. After the comparison of one's own virtuous (?!) behavior with the self-righteous and hypocritical judgments of others, there follows other rather standard ploys. There is the adamant refusal to admit that one's own personal sin is, in fact, wrong. There is the comparison of a hypothetical value of one's own supposed sin with the large value of someone else's known sin. There is the claim that the support one receives from others is bona fide acceptance of all areas of conduct, and as proof that a certain action is not wrong. There is usually some sort of biological or environmental justification for the behavior that reduces one's own personal responsibility for the actions that result. Anything that would attempt to create any pangs of conscience over the action must be explained away, either by selective definition of terms, or by a rigid adherence to cultural context at the expense of transcendent and eternal standards of righteousness. To put it more simply, "that's just what people thought at the time."
With the rise of the blog, this sort of self-justification has reached a whole new standard of ubiquity. The blog is an easy way to quickly (unless one decides to type long rants, as I am often guilty of doing) toss off one's thoughts, often without concern for grammatical correctness or flow. The main goal is to toss off one's own personal thoughts as truth, making us all our own authorities, and publishing our own thoughts to a candid, and hopefully favorable world. If all else fails, and our blogs receive too much bad press (and not enough support), there is always the expedient of making the blog a private one, and thus limiting the right to read and review to those who we know to be in favor of what we say. Anything is acceptable in order to support our own fervent belief in the righteousness of our behavior and conduct. All of those who attack us must be discredited by pointing to their own sins, and all of our mistakes must be explained away so that we are not responsible.
There is one advantage to the fact that this sort of behavior (which always existed, formerly in more private media, is now in public. This means that one's behavior is more transparent than ever before. With the multiplication of our own words, it has become all the more simple to compare one's words with one's actions, to record idle words slipping out (that happens all too often for me at least) and to point where people need to improve. It also allows people the opportunity to form their thoughts with some knowledge of where they are likely to find support, and where they are likely to find criticism. For those who are not scared into the shell of "private" posts by the feedback, it is an opportunity to make one's reasoning stronger, to make one's speech (and really, blogging is more like speech than like writing) more careful and better thought out, and to make one's skin at least a little tougher and thicker. These need not be bad, but they depend on refusing to merely use this beautiful medium of the blog as an instrument of self-justification, but rather as an opprotunity for reflection, and an opportunity for others to reflect on your thoughts as well.
Thursday, September 22, 2005
Rafael Palmeiro, the Rat Fink
I first heard of Rafael Palmeiro (hereafter referred to as RP) several years ago, when the graying slugger starred in ads for Viagra. I was a bit puzzled, to say the least, because most men, even in their 30's, should not suffer from ED (if you don't know what that is, you don't watch enough television, and may not even know who RP is). However, ED is a noted side effect of steroids. It's one thing for Bob Dole to market Viagra--he's an old man, and obviously not a 'roid head. Palmeiro, though, is a slugger, a homerun hitter, and anyone who can hit home runs (whether they admit it, are caught inflgrante, or deny it on their mothers' graves) has been under suspicion for steroids.
Rafael Palmeiro, however, spent his career largely under the radar. Despite reasonably decent career totals (3020 hits, 1663 runs, 1835 rbis, 569 home runs, and a lifetime obp of .371 and a lifetime hitting average of .288), he has been noted more for a consistent, if unspectacular career rather than as a superstar. In other words, he's no Barry Bonds. But RP, to his lifelong shame, became a superstar thanks to some choice words he made in a very public forum. You see, RP, who at the time was trying to join the 3000 hit club, and solidify his credentials for the Baseball Hall of Fame, was called to Congress to testify about steriods. While the other players hemmed and hawed (including McGuire, a confessed user of (legal, at the time) supplements during his home run hitting days), and while Conseco faced the fallout from his tell-almost-all book about his own flagrant steriod use, RP boldly called out to the naysayers, "I have never used steriods." He would later (not too much later, either) live to regret those words.
You see, as was discovered later, around the time he spoke to Congress, RP already had a failed test result for stanozolol, one of the stronger steriods out there, and one that is not found in any of the usually blamed over-the-counter supplements. He gamely fought through injury, and mounting scepticism, all the while appealing the ten day suspension he knew was coming. Does anything get more hypocritical than that? It does. After RP's test comes out, all those words come back to haunt him, as he slightly changes his tune and tries to go back into the privacy he played in for so many years. Too late.
The fallout was bad enough. He suffered irreparable harm to his reputation, probably lost his chance at induction into the Hall of Fame (unless it is kinder to 'roidheads than other cheaters). His testimony is also being called into question on account of purjury, something previous holders of the White House are a little familiar with as well. Well, it gets better. Apparently, in his attempts to appeal his suspension, RP turned in a teammate as the supplier of the 'riods. In baseball, it doesn't get any lower than that. There is a sort of honor code among thieves. If you get caught, make up some lame excuse and take the rap for yourself. Enough people probably do steriods and supply other players that an honor code is necessary to keep the lid on scandal, as much as possible. Now Baltimore is talking about shutting down RP for the rest of the season. At least someone has now learned that crime doesn't pay, and that no one likes a fink.
Rafael Palmeiro, however, spent his career largely under the radar. Despite reasonably decent career totals (3020 hits, 1663 runs, 1835 rbis, 569 home runs, and a lifetime obp of .371 and a lifetime hitting average of .288), he has been noted more for a consistent, if unspectacular career rather than as a superstar. In other words, he's no Barry Bonds. But RP, to his lifelong shame, became a superstar thanks to some choice words he made in a very public forum. You see, RP, who at the time was trying to join the 3000 hit club, and solidify his credentials for the Baseball Hall of Fame, was called to Congress to testify about steriods. While the other players hemmed and hawed (including McGuire, a confessed user of (legal, at the time) supplements during his home run hitting days), and while Conseco faced the fallout from his tell-almost-all book about his own flagrant steriod use, RP boldly called out to the naysayers, "I have never used steriods." He would later (not too much later, either) live to regret those words.
You see, as was discovered later, around the time he spoke to Congress, RP already had a failed test result for stanozolol, one of the stronger steriods out there, and one that is not found in any of the usually blamed over-the-counter supplements. He gamely fought through injury, and mounting scepticism, all the while appealing the ten day suspension he knew was coming. Does anything get more hypocritical than that? It does. After RP's test comes out, all those words come back to haunt him, as he slightly changes his tune and tries to go back into the privacy he played in for so many years. Too late.
The fallout was bad enough. He suffered irreparable harm to his reputation, probably lost his chance at induction into the Hall of Fame (unless it is kinder to 'roidheads than other cheaters). His testimony is also being called into question on account of purjury, something previous holders of the White House are a little familiar with as well. Well, it gets better. Apparently, in his attempts to appeal his suspension, RP turned in a teammate as the supplier of the 'riods. In baseball, it doesn't get any lower than that. There is a sort of honor code among thieves. If you get caught, make up some lame excuse and take the rap for yourself. Enough people probably do steriods and supply other players that an honor code is necessary to keep the lid on scandal, as much as possible. Now Baltimore is talking about shutting down RP for the rest of the season. At least someone has now learned that crime doesn't pay, and that no one likes a fink.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Size Isn't Everything
Today's blog entry will be about the best Bee Gees album almost no one has ever heard about. I know, admitting I like a Bee Gees album is really dangerous in some quarters, even the the album here was not a disco album in the least. In fact, Size Isn't Everything was released in 1993, during the height of the "grunge" era, halfway between the Bee Gees' two successful "comeback" albums: 1989's "One" and 1997's "Still Waters. Yet somehow, this album did not do well. The album had two singles, the #88 "hit" "Paying The Price Of Love" and the excellent, should have been a big hit "For Whom The Bell Tolls," which failed to chart. I first became aware of this album during my sophomore year of college, when my roommate had me listen to some of the tracks from this album. I was very impressed (which is not easy), and the album is now a mainstay in my car cd changer. This album appears to be the kind of album that was intentionally crafted to be great, but obscure. At least it seems that way. Since the album, at 11 songs, is a little too long to analyze in great depth, I will choose three songs, of varying tempos (all of the songs on the album are about romantic love, usually the downside of it). In doing so, a lot will probably be revealed about me (perhaps too much). But anyway, here goes.
"Kiss Of Life"
Lyrics:
Never more aware of what you do.
I've got you leavin' me and missing you.
And me believing that you've never done right
When you've never done wrong.
You've been comin' to me late at night.
It's not the eye alone that gives you sight.
I've never given anybody my soul,
But I'm comin' undone.
I'm a survivor but I'm reaching my low,
But I'm not ready to die.
I'm here for the kiss of life.
I'm here for the kiss of life.
Just give me the kiss of life.
Watch them hold you.
Count their faces,
A never ending line.
But they're only imitations
Existing out of time.
So now you're telling me it's just a ring.
You say it's nothing but it's everything.
I'm under pressure and I'm under
Your gun and I'm fingers and thumbs.
You got the questions and the answers I know.
I'm being buried alive.
I'm here for the kiss of life.
I'm here for the kiss of life.
Just give me the kiss of life.
I can't stay here,
Lost without you.
We're strangers in the dark.
Holy angel,
Living for you,
To love and never cry.
I'm a survivor but I'm reaching my low,
But I'm not ready to die.
I'm here for the kiss of life.
I'm here for the kiss of life.
Just give me the kiss of life.
Analysis:
This is a really upbeat song, despite the rather depressing lyrics. This is a catchy song, and one of the standout tracks on this excellent album. This particular song deals with the fallout from a relationship. When things are going badly, all one wants is the kiss of life, even if one never gets it. Here we see a relationship (a marriage, presumably) falling apart with cheating and arguing, and yet there is the desire to make things right, a desire that will probably be frustrated. For some reason I like songs with depressing lyrics and upbeat, bouncy music, as weird and contradictory as that may be. This song definitely fits the bill.
"Omega Man"
Lyrics:
We set the same scene,
Circumstances different than they
Might have been.
People in two places can be
Pulled into a scheme;
Never what you're fighting for.
Life alone,
Lose a lover's arms.
Never makes it easy when you try too hard.
I wish you would define what you feel--
Hard on or letting go.
I'm the Omega Man,
Stand tall and understand.
Everybody needs a plan.
Mine is a better way.
There'll be trouble in the world:
Sex and the single girl.
I'm an over-eager man.
Find me a better way.
Find me a better way.
We share the same pain.
Underneath the covers I will set you free.
I will prove to you my love is
Older than the sky,
Stronger than the night is long.
Lord of hearts,
Leader of us all.
Let it be together if we rise or fall.
Or is it just my imigaination,
Or the light of a precious stone.
(You'll never be alone).
I'm the Omega Man,
I travel over land.
Everybody needs a plan.
Mine is a better way.
There'll be trouble in the world:
Sex and the single girl.
I'm an over eager man.
Find me a better way.
Find me a better way.
Here at the scene of the crime,
Laid in your arms I will die.
I know it's more than infatuation
That's keeping this man alive.
I'm the Omega Man,
Stand tall and understand.
Everybody needs a plan,
Mine is a better way.
There'll be trouble in the world:
Sex and the single girl.
I'm an over-eager man.
Find me a better way.
Find me a better way.
Analysis:
I can't say too much about the lyrics of this song about incriminating myself. The song is uproariously funny, sung tongue and cheek and all. This is good, considering the song itself has a lot of things to say about the dating world (see previous rant on dating in the church). Omega Man, of course, refers to being the "last man," for those who do not know the Greek alphabet, and this song certainly comments on the difficulties of romantic love. I happen to find a lot of the lyrics of this song hit a little close to home (such as "I wish you would define how you feel", and so forth). Some of the lyrics of the song (probably the ones people would focus on the most) don't apply to me or anything I've done (yet), which is a good thing, I guess. *Shrugs*.
"For Whom The Bell Tolls"
I stumble in the night,
Never really knew what it would've been like.
You're no longer there to
Break my fall.
The heartache over you,
I gave it everything but I couldn't get through.
I never saw the signs.
You're the last to know when love is blind.
All the tears and the turbulent years
When I would not wait for no one.
I didn't stop, take a look at my life,
And see me losing you.
When the lonely heart breaks,
It's the one that forsakes,
It's the dream that we stole.
And I'm using you more,
And the fire that will roar,
There's a hole in my soul.
For you it's goodbye,
And for me it's to cry
For whom the bell tolls.
Seen you in a magagine,
A picture at a party
Where you shouldn't have been,
Hangin' on the arms of someone else.
I'm still in love with you,
Won't you come back to your little boy blue.
I've come to feel inside
This precious love was never mine.
Now I know but a little too late
That I could not live without you.
In the dark or the broad daylight,
I promise I'll be there.
When the lonely heart breaks,
It's the one that forsakes,
It's the dream that we stole.
And I'm using you more,
And the fire that will roar,
There's a hole in my soul.
For you it's goodbye,
And for me it's to cry
For whom the bell tolls.
I never knew there'd be times like this,
When I couldn't reach out to no one.
Am I never gonna find someone
That knows me like you do.
Are you leaving me a helpless hcild
When it took so long to save me.
Fight the devil and the deep blue sea--
I'll follow anywhere,
I promise I'll be there.
Analysis:
This is one of the saddest songs ever. Not sad in that sappy "My Heart Will Go On" way, but said in that "this song is really depressing but I've totally felt that way before" way. This song reminds me of the situation where you have a great friend who you could have had a great relationship with, but you completely blew it and then afterwards you realize what a moron you were. Man, I hate that feeling. But it's a great song, and it should have been a smash hit.
"Kiss Of Life"
Lyrics:
Never more aware of what you do.
I've got you leavin' me and missing you.
And me believing that you've never done right
When you've never done wrong.
You've been comin' to me late at night.
It's not the eye alone that gives you sight.
I've never given anybody my soul,
But I'm comin' undone.
I'm a survivor but I'm reaching my low,
But I'm not ready to die.
I'm here for the kiss of life.
I'm here for the kiss of life.
Just give me the kiss of life.
Watch them hold you.
Count their faces,
A never ending line.
But they're only imitations
Existing out of time.
So now you're telling me it's just a ring.
You say it's nothing but it's everything.
I'm under pressure and I'm under
Your gun and I'm fingers and thumbs.
You got the questions and the answers I know.
I'm being buried alive.
I'm here for the kiss of life.
I'm here for the kiss of life.
Just give me the kiss of life.
I can't stay here,
Lost without you.
We're strangers in the dark.
Holy angel,
Living for you,
To love and never cry.
I'm a survivor but I'm reaching my low,
But I'm not ready to die.
I'm here for the kiss of life.
I'm here for the kiss of life.
Just give me the kiss of life.
Analysis:
This is a really upbeat song, despite the rather depressing lyrics. This is a catchy song, and one of the standout tracks on this excellent album. This particular song deals with the fallout from a relationship. When things are going badly, all one wants is the kiss of life, even if one never gets it. Here we see a relationship (a marriage, presumably) falling apart with cheating and arguing, and yet there is the desire to make things right, a desire that will probably be frustrated. For some reason I like songs with depressing lyrics and upbeat, bouncy music, as weird and contradictory as that may be. This song definitely fits the bill.
"Omega Man"
Lyrics:
We set the same scene,
Circumstances different than they
Might have been.
People in two places can be
Pulled into a scheme;
Never what you're fighting for.
Life alone,
Lose a lover's arms.
Never makes it easy when you try too hard.
I wish you would define what you feel--
Hard on or letting go.
I'm the Omega Man,
Stand tall and understand.
Everybody needs a plan.
Mine is a better way.
There'll be trouble in the world:
Sex and the single girl.
I'm an over-eager man.
Find me a better way.
Find me a better way.
We share the same pain.
Underneath the covers I will set you free.
I will prove to you my love is
Older than the sky,
Stronger than the night is long.
Lord of hearts,
Leader of us all.
Let it be together if we rise or fall.
Or is it just my imigaination,
Or the light of a precious stone.
(You'll never be alone).
I'm the Omega Man,
I travel over land.
Everybody needs a plan.
Mine is a better way.
There'll be trouble in the world:
Sex and the single girl.
I'm an over eager man.
Find me a better way.
Find me a better way.
Here at the scene of the crime,
Laid in your arms I will die.
I know it's more than infatuation
That's keeping this man alive.
I'm the Omega Man,
Stand tall and understand.
Everybody needs a plan,
Mine is a better way.
There'll be trouble in the world:
Sex and the single girl.
I'm an over-eager man.
Find me a better way.
Find me a better way.
Analysis:
I can't say too much about the lyrics of this song about incriminating myself. The song is uproariously funny, sung tongue and cheek and all. This is good, considering the song itself has a lot of things to say about the dating world (see previous rant on dating in the church). Omega Man, of course, refers to being the "last man," for those who do not know the Greek alphabet, and this song certainly comments on the difficulties of romantic love. I happen to find a lot of the lyrics of this song hit a little close to home (such as "I wish you would define how you feel", and so forth). Some of the lyrics of the song (probably the ones people would focus on the most) don't apply to me or anything I've done (yet), which is a good thing, I guess. *Shrugs*.
"For Whom The Bell Tolls"
I stumble in the night,
Never really knew what it would've been like.
You're no longer there to
Break my fall.
The heartache over you,
I gave it everything but I couldn't get through.
I never saw the signs.
You're the last to know when love is blind.
All the tears and the turbulent years
When I would not wait for no one.
I didn't stop, take a look at my life,
And see me losing you.
When the lonely heart breaks,
It's the one that forsakes,
It's the dream that we stole.
And I'm using you more,
And the fire that will roar,
There's a hole in my soul.
For you it's goodbye,
And for me it's to cry
For whom the bell tolls.
Seen you in a magagine,
A picture at a party
Where you shouldn't have been,
Hangin' on the arms of someone else.
I'm still in love with you,
Won't you come back to your little boy blue.
I've come to feel inside
This precious love was never mine.
Now I know but a little too late
That I could not live without you.
In the dark or the broad daylight,
I promise I'll be there.
When the lonely heart breaks,
It's the one that forsakes,
It's the dream that we stole.
And I'm using you more,
And the fire that will roar,
There's a hole in my soul.
For you it's goodbye,
And for me it's to cry
For whom the bell tolls.
I never knew there'd be times like this,
When I couldn't reach out to no one.
Am I never gonna find someone
That knows me like you do.
Are you leaving me a helpless hcild
When it took so long to save me.
Fight the devil and the deep blue sea--
I'll follow anywhere,
I promise I'll be there.
Analysis:
This is one of the saddest songs ever. Not sad in that sappy "My Heart Will Go On" way, but said in that "this song is really depressing but I've totally felt that way before" way. This song reminds me of the situation where you have a great friend who you could have had a great relationship with, but you completely blew it and then afterwards you realize what a moron you were. Man, I hate that feeling. But it's a great song, and it should have been a smash hit.
Thursday, September 08, 2005
I've Looked At Clouds From Both Sides Now...
Alright, I've wanted to write about an album I really enjoy, but I've been too tired, and the entry will be way too long. That will have to wait for later, hopefully. But anyway, I figured it would be topical to talk about hurricanes--not rant exactly, for though I could, I don't think there's much point in that. Many others have suffered from hurricanes far worse than I have. I will also try to avoid talking about the horrible after effects of Katrina, though if I feel brave enough to incur the wrath of some very well-armed people of New Orleans who have already opened fire on their rescuers, I will comment at a later time on why New Orleans should not be rebuilt. Nor will I write about the hurricane de jour, a recently intensified beauty (if hurricanes can be beautiful, a dangerous philosophical question) hovering off the coast of eastern Florida, a little too close for comfort. So, what will I talk about exactly?
When I was a child, I enjoyed hurricanes. Maybe I have always been a perverse sort of human being (not necessarily in the immoral way, just in the stubborn and contrarian way), but as a child I greatly enjoyed hurricanes. My signature to this day (originating in early childhood) contains a little squiggle below my name that represents the vertical profile of a hurricane or a huge tornado. I don't know what exactly what that means, but whatever it is, it's probably not good. As a child I enjoyed storms and hurricanes for all the right (?) reasons. I built up my grandfather's driveway with little levees to collect pools of water. I jumped off of ladders using umbrellas as parachutes. I used rocks to block the path of running water and create rockfill dams. During the "hurricane" day off from class due to Andrew in 1992 I played football in the rain (though passing was a bit difficult in the brisk conditions). As a child, I remember walking through the rains from Elena on the way to services in St. Petersburg. I must have been five years old. Some of my earliest and most enduring memories are about storms (I'm not alone in this. I hear it runs in the family). Even as a teenager, hurricanes didn't particularly worry me, for the most part.
Something changed, though. I missed the hurricane seasons of 1999-2003 while I was in college. By the time ABC (Ambassador Bible Center, for those who don't know) finished in 2004, I had not been faced with any hurricanes since Georges flew quickly by during my senior year of high school. Was I in for a rude awakening. Hurricanes may have been fun before, but they're no fun when one is a responsible (?) adult. Hurricanes may be beautiful, but they are truly works of frightful symmetry. More so than other natural disasters they carry with them dread and worry for days before they arrive, if they arrive at all. They are immense and powerful, but yet they have no steering. Some of them are strong and small, and pass one by at the last minute. Somtimes they dance around off the coast. Sometimes they stop and abruptly change direction, sparing millions of grateful souls. And sometimes they strengthen, grow to gargantuan size, and plow right through your home. Some years are good years, some are bad. There is no way of knowing. They are purposeful and yet emblematic of the chancy nature of life at the same time. They are the microcosm of human uncertainty, random chance, and irrevocable judgment at the same time. Few types of natural disasters combine the insane level of destructiveness of the hurricane with the sort of dread warning that they provide, allowing one to imagine the worst long before the storm hits ashore, occasionally fulfilling every dark nightmare.
Whether one considers storms to be agents of God's fury or natural disasters that occur based on either cyclical or global warming-influenced frequencies, they are powerful forces. The forces of wind and rain and storm surge that they inflict upon coastal areas, and even far inland, are truly a sight to behold. I've looked at clouds from both sides now, and though I can't say I understand them, I do recognize that such things cannot be taken for granted. Living in territory in risk, one has to be prepared, not just physically, but mentally, emotionally, and even spiritually. It just takes a long time to get to that point.
When I was a child, I enjoyed hurricanes. Maybe I have always been a perverse sort of human being (not necessarily in the immoral way, just in the stubborn and contrarian way), but as a child I greatly enjoyed hurricanes. My signature to this day (originating in early childhood) contains a little squiggle below my name that represents the vertical profile of a hurricane or a huge tornado. I don't know what exactly what that means, but whatever it is, it's probably not good. As a child I enjoyed storms and hurricanes for all the right (?) reasons. I built up my grandfather's driveway with little levees to collect pools of water. I jumped off of ladders using umbrellas as parachutes. I used rocks to block the path of running water and create rockfill dams. During the "hurricane" day off from class due to Andrew in 1992 I played football in the rain (though passing was a bit difficult in the brisk conditions). As a child, I remember walking through the rains from Elena on the way to services in St. Petersburg. I must have been five years old. Some of my earliest and most enduring memories are about storms (I'm not alone in this. I hear it runs in the family). Even as a teenager, hurricanes didn't particularly worry me, for the most part.
Something changed, though. I missed the hurricane seasons of 1999-2003 while I was in college. By the time ABC (Ambassador Bible Center, for those who don't know) finished in 2004, I had not been faced with any hurricanes since Georges flew quickly by during my senior year of high school. Was I in for a rude awakening. Hurricanes may have been fun before, but they're no fun when one is a responsible (?) adult. Hurricanes may be beautiful, but they are truly works of frightful symmetry. More so than other natural disasters they carry with them dread and worry for days before they arrive, if they arrive at all. They are immense and powerful, but yet they have no steering. Some of them are strong and small, and pass one by at the last minute. Somtimes they dance around off the coast. Sometimes they stop and abruptly change direction, sparing millions of grateful souls. And sometimes they strengthen, grow to gargantuan size, and plow right through your home. Some years are good years, some are bad. There is no way of knowing. They are purposeful and yet emblematic of the chancy nature of life at the same time. They are the microcosm of human uncertainty, random chance, and irrevocable judgment at the same time. Few types of natural disasters combine the insane level of destructiveness of the hurricane with the sort of dread warning that they provide, allowing one to imagine the worst long before the storm hits ashore, occasionally fulfilling every dark nightmare.
Whether one considers storms to be agents of God's fury or natural disasters that occur based on either cyclical or global warming-influenced frequencies, they are powerful forces. The forces of wind and rain and storm surge that they inflict upon coastal areas, and even far inland, are truly a sight to behold. I've looked at clouds from both sides now, and though I can't say I understand them, I do recognize that such things cannot be taken for granted. Living in territory in risk, one has to be prepared, not just physically, but mentally, emotionally, and even spiritually. It just takes a long time to get to that point.
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