Thursday, December 28, 2006
Little White Crosses
When I drive by myself for the better part of a given day, I spend half of the time paying a lot of attention to the things around me, out of boredom, and then the other half of the time in a dotted-line stupor, contemplating life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. I don't think this is such a bad thing; it means I am a hazard to other drivers only 50% of the time, which automatically puts me in the upper echelon of safe drivers in America. Usually my epiphanies come during the contemplative half of my journey, so it was much to my surprise that on my latest trip the best thought I had was while I had my brain plugged into my eyes.
As my title divulges, what caught my attention was a set of three little white crosses, set right in the woodline, some five or six yards from the road. I would have missed them completely if I was daydreaming about places I would rather be or, as I was just a few minutes before, contemplating whether the limit of my own brain was set psychologically or physically. I assure you it was a very deep thought, but it almost got answered as a semi decided to merge himself unheralded into the lane I was occupying at the moment; this would have definitely left my brain limited physically, as it probably would have ended up some 150 feet down the roadway from the rest of me in the grisly aftermath. Instead I slammed on the brakes and immediately decided paying attention to what I was doing was probably of utmost importance at the time, since I was in the South, and it is generally known that the mentally ill are often issued driver's licenses in the south, due to blaring loopholes in the system.
I've seen lots of little white crosses before, but I've never really stopped to think about what they signify. They aren't headstones; their presence doesn't indicate a body six feet below and often no name or date is prominent. They are anonymous miniliths, hoping to inspire some degree of caution or contemplation in passersby by proclaiming that a fatal car accident tragically stole a life at this point. In my contemplation, I realized they were more than that. They may not mark anything physical, but where they stand definitely signifies the departure point of something from this earth. Every cross marks the death of a dream.
To be continued...
When I drive by myself for the better part of a given day, I spend half of the time paying a lot of attention to the things around me, out of boredom, and then the other half of the time in a dotted-line stupor, contemplating life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. I don't think this is such a bad thing; it means I am a hazard to other drivers only 50% of the time, which automatically puts me in the upper echelon of safe drivers in America. Usually my epiphanies come during the contemplative half of my journey, so it was much to my surprise that on my latest trip the best thought I had was while I had my brain plugged into my eyes.
As my title divulges, what caught my attention was a set of three little white crosses, set right in the woodline, some five or six yards from the road. I would have missed them completely if I was daydreaming about places I would rather be or, as I was just a few minutes before, contemplating whether the limit of my own brain was set psychologically or physically. I assure you it was a very deep thought, but it almost got answered as a semi decided to merge himself unheralded into the lane I was occupying at the moment; this would have definitely left my brain limited physically, as it probably would have ended up some 150 feet down the roadway from the rest of me in the grisly aftermath. Instead I slammed on the brakes and immediately decided paying attention to what I was doing was probably of utmost importance at the time, since I was in the South, and it is generally known that the mentally ill are often issued driver's licenses in the south, due to blaring loopholes in the system.
I've seen lots of little white crosses before, but I've never really stopped to think about what they signify. They aren't headstones; their presence doesn't indicate a body six feet below and often no name or date is prominent. They are anonymous miniliths, hoping to inspire some degree of caution or contemplation in passersby by proclaiming that a fatal car accident tragically stole a life at this point. In my contemplation, I realized they were more than that. They may not mark anything physical, but where they stand definitely signifies the departure point of something from this earth. Every cross marks the death of a dream.
To be continued...
Monday, September 18, 2006
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
On speech:
Until now, I've never actually lived somewhere where a person, in their common speech, referred to a passing cop car as the "POH-leese".
If you are going to be a highly skilled mechanic, you apparently must speak politely and with correct grammar around the boss, women, or even other sorts of coworkers, but when you around other mechanics, all regular nouns are prefaced with "f***ing", and the only proper pronoun is "sonuvabitch". Which is always one word.
If you speak one spanish phrase, such as "Como estas" to one of the Mexican workers, who are used to only getting dumb looks and swear words from other workers, they immediately feel very attached, and rattle off a response, which I believe consists of the entire Taco Bell menu. So they ended up getting a dumb look from me anyways, but at least I didn't swear at them. Maybe they swore at me? "Cheesy gordita grande y mountain dew" right back at ya.
Speech is a funny thing. I've come to realize that it doesn't matter how smart you are; the words that come out of your mouth are indicative of something other than intelligence. Sometimes they are a concentrated effort to not set yourself apart from those around you; sometimes they are intended to do just the opposite. The way you talk says a lot more about your past, your influences, and your future than it does about what's going on upstairs. I think the kindest thing to do is to try to make everyone feel a little bit more comfortable by talking the way they do, just a little bit, unless of course it interferes with whatever Christian influence you are trying to maintain. Therefore, I haven't taken up swearing yet. Good for me.
I believe Rodney King put it best, when he said:
"Ow, Ow... why are you hitting me?"
Until now, I've never actually lived somewhere where a person, in their common speech, referred to a passing cop car as the "POH-leese".
If you are going to be a highly skilled mechanic, you apparently must speak politely and with correct grammar around the boss, women, or even other sorts of coworkers, but when you around other mechanics, all regular nouns are prefaced with "f***ing", and the only proper pronoun is "sonuvabitch". Which is always one word.
If you speak one spanish phrase, such as "Como estas" to one of the Mexican workers, who are used to only getting dumb looks and swear words from other workers, they immediately feel very attached, and rattle off a response, which I believe consists of the entire Taco Bell menu. So they ended up getting a dumb look from me anyways, but at least I didn't swear at them. Maybe they swore at me? "Cheesy gordita grande y mountain dew" right back at ya.
Speech is a funny thing. I've come to realize that it doesn't matter how smart you are; the words that come out of your mouth are indicative of something other than intelligence. Sometimes they are a concentrated effort to not set yourself apart from those around you; sometimes they are intended to do just the opposite. The way you talk says a lot more about your past, your influences, and your future than it does about what's going on upstairs. I think the kindest thing to do is to try to make everyone feel a little bit more comfortable by talking the way they do, just a little bit, unless of course it interferes with whatever Christian influence you are trying to maintain. Therefore, I haven't taken up swearing yet. Good for me.
I believe Rodney King put it best, when he said:
"Ow, Ow... why are you hitting me?"
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Sunday, July 09, 2006
I returned from a trip to Kenya a few weeks ago. The person who left for that trip was a gaunt, troubled Ditty. He stayed there. I got to come back in his place.
The time I spent there was far from idyllic. There was constant hard work, stress, and relational problems. But the sense of accomplishment that came from doing the work and seeing the joyful hearts of the Kenyan people is unparalleled. That, coupled with a caring professor and one very good friend, brought about a rejuvenation of my own spirit that was direly in need.
It's not like life is a bowl of daisies now. There are still frustrations and there are certainly things that I wish were different. But I think I've learned how to hold my head above water and smile as I wave once-dreams goodbye. God is good. Even to me.
At the very least;
For me there will always be a new day.
For me there will always be Kenya.
David
The time I spent there was far from idyllic. There was constant hard work, stress, and relational problems. But the sense of accomplishment that came from doing the work and seeing the joyful hearts of the Kenyan people is unparalleled. That, coupled with a caring professor and one very good friend, brought about a rejuvenation of my own spirit that was direly in need.
It's not like life is a bowl of daisies now. There are still frustrations and there are certainly things that I wish were different. But I think I've learned how to hold my head above water and smile as I wave once-dreams goodbye. God is good. Even to me.
At the very least;
For me there will always be a new day.
For me there will always be Kenya.
David
Saturday, May 06, 2006
The greatest winners in life are the ones who keep going long after it would have been prudent to quit.
So are the greatest losers.
[Ditty]
So are the greatest losers.
[Ditty]
Monday, April 17, 2006
Sharp fingers cut off my air
it's hard to speak and
the words don't make sense anyway.
Grief, indignation, and crushed dreams
wash through the void, filling it briefly but
the emotions don't make sense anyway.
All of my stress clears
as everything focuses on this new pain, but
the hurts don't make sense anyway.
Faith gets intermingled with my hopes
and as they deflate and I sink lower and lower
the depths don't make sense anyway.
Even if I ought to know what I want by now
it still is hard to put it into words because
I don't make sense anyway.
But I'm still standing here with a few last strands of hope, for you
my arms stay open; I see my
love doesn't make sense anyway.
The choices you make are predictable
as each one is my killing blow; I guess
you don't make sense anyway.
All of my plans fall apart one by one
As dominos fall the wrong way, stealing time so
forever doesn't make sense anyway.
The words, the emotions, the hurts, the depths; I love you forever anyway.
Ditty
Snow Patrol - Run
it's hard to speak and
the words don't make sense anyway.
Grief, indignation, and crushed dreams
wash through the void, filling it briefly but
the emotions don't make sense anyway.
All of my stress clears
as everything focuses on this new pain, but
the hurts don't make sense anyway.
Faith gets intermingled with my hopes
and as they deflate and I sink lower and lower
the depths don't make sense anyway.
Even if I ought to know what I want by now
it still is hard to put it into words because
I don't make sense anyway.
But I'm still standing here with a few last strands of hope, for you
my arms stay open; I see my
love doesn't make sense anyway.
The choices you make are predictable
as each one is my killing blow; I guess
you don't make sense anyway.
All of my plans fall apart one by one
As dominos fall the wrong way, stealing time so
forever doesn't make sense anyway.
The words, the emotions, the hurts, the depths; I love you forever anyway.
Ditty
Snow Patrol - Run
