Grab your Snuggies and run!

The end is near, you guys. I know, I know. Somebody's been saying that for the last 2,000 years, but now there's a new fiction series out about it, and that MAKES IT TRUE.

If any of you, like me, were blessed and cursed to grow up surrounded by Christian commercial culture in the 90s, you probably remember the "Left Behind" book series. For the unfamiliar, the 264 or so books (I think there were actually 12) chronicled a fictionalized account of the time described Revelation from the Rapture, through the tribulation to the second coming of Christ on earth. When I was in junior high or high school, I read the first four or five books and then gave up (or grew up... I think the two went together). 

Maybe you've been thinking, Gee, I wish there was a new series of fear-mongering, dread-inducing but creatively-bland and therefore Christian bookseller-approved books I could jump into for the summer. You're in luck! Tim LaHaye has returned, and they made a preview for the series! 

Please, please watch the trailer on YouTube. Shame his publisher couldn't get his name right.

We're living in the end times, also frequently called last days! Yes. this is true. People in the 1960s lived in the end times, too. As did people in the 1860s, the 1200s and the disciples, one week after Jesus took off back to heaven. The end times are nothing new. 

Don't get me wrong. I love Jesus. I believe in the truth of the Bible. I went to an evangelical seminary, for crying out loud. But these "prophetic" novels drive me nuts. Jesus could return at any moment! But probably not before you have a chance to pick up LaHaye's latest book. Still, you never know. Better get it soon, just in case. 

But what concerns me most about this is when LaHaye says, 'People intuitively believe the Bible...when push comes to shove, like it did on 9/11, people en masse turned to God.'

I have a few problems with this. One, I don't think people intuitively believe the Bible. I do believe that people intuitively believe in God, or at least often want to, but the Bible is another matter. Maybe it's just that I'm too cynical--maybe I've been in Portland too long. (Evidence of this: Portlanders, remember the PDXBoom last month? Classic tweet from that night, via @msfour: "best #pdxboom theory: it was the Rapture, which is why all of PDX is still here")


Two, I am really tired of 9/11 getting invoked for absolutely everything. 


Two-b)(or not two-b, haha) the fact that people turned to something en masse is not an evidence of its validity. 


To wit, here are some other things people have turned to en masse, just in the past, oh, century or so:

• the Macarena
• pet rocks
• sea monkeys
• goldfish swallowing
• bowler hats
• the Twilight saga 
• perms

I don't offer up this list to mock God. But what I do offer it for is to show that the fact that people can turn to something in large numbers doesn't mean anything if it doesn't last. I'm sure some people had life-changing spiritual experiences on 9/11/01. Others prayed because they panicked. And a week later, when their city wasn't attacked, they forgot the prayers. 


We don't pray to sea monkeys for protection, and we don't carry pet rocks as talismans to predict the future. Yet, if this video is to be believed, we can treat God that way. 


Third and final thing: LaHaye has built a career based on fictional stories about future events, and, again, from what I see in the video and my knowledge of the Left Behind series alone, has built a theology around a very difficult and obtuse section of the biblical text--a theology that states that your fear is warranted, and that God exists to pluck us all from peril. 


Time and time again, the Bible showcases stories of people who are in terrible shape.Their lives are falling apart, sometimes as consequences of their actions, and sometimes by no fault of their own. And what we see time and time again is not a God who raptures His people away to set them on streets of gold, but a God who refuses to abandon them, even when they have cursed and denied Him with every breath they have been given. And we have. People don't intuitively believe the Bible, they don't run to God instinctively. They (we) run away, and because He's good, He pursues us.


Whew! That got a bit more preachy than I had intended, but like everything, I think it's all connected. Please don't be sucked in by end times paranoia. It's unnecessary, it's typically commercial, and it's designed to frighten you into belief, which is no belief at all. 


I would love to hear your thoughts on this, especially if you come from a different background than I do. What do these kinds of stories do for (or to) you?

"So, basically, you just swap witty text messages all day long."

I'll be honest--I've been scrambling for a topic today. I even popped over to this Netvibes list, created by Blogathoner Dylan, of discordianZen, to see what other people were writing about. Here's a broad sample:

1. their kids
2. their social media-influenced business
3. their garden
4. their cooking projects
5. their crafty projects

Being single, childless and currently unemployed (see the donate button? Ok, I'm done), I don't have some of those things. And being largely useless & woefully untalented at almost anything requiring the use of my hands (not by any real physical malady, just pure awkwardness) those other things are out for me too. And I thought, Heather, what are you good at?

You're looking at what I'm good at. I'm not claiming this is the best work I've ever done, or that the work, in this moment, is even particularly good. But this, this writing thing, and telling people what I think about things, is what I'm good at. Sometimes I even get to be funny in the middle of it.

Another couple things I'm good at are more difficult to translate into this form. I'm good at drinking coffee for long, slow periods of time, and I'm good (I hope) at listening. In the last couple weeks I've had the opportunity to hear several of my friends share their hearts, and while it's an absolutely brilliant way to spend your time (almost the best), I doubt they'd appreciate if I divulged the details here.

So... writing, coffee-drinking and listening. I hope I'm as good at those things as I think I am. When that doesn't work, I can always resort to the snappy text exchange.

What atypical or overly common thing are you surprisingly good at? 

My favorite blogs.

Before we get to the blogging goodness, some housekeeping. Look to your right. See that yellow thing?

That's a donate button. In a sense, it's shameless self-promotion and groveling. But as many of you know, I am currently unemployed, and money is in short supply. If you like this blog (and I hope you do), please consider making a donation to the Heather Has Time to Write Because She's Jobless fund. Of course, I'll never know who all comes by here and DOESN'T click it, so the pressure's off you. :)
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As part of the WordCount Blogathon 2010, (most) the participating bloggers are taking today to highlight other blogs they love. So far, I've noticed a lot of people highlighting blogs that help them work, help them write, help them succeed. And those are great. But most of my blogs focus on one or both of my favorite things...

I love God, and I love laughing. These blogs help me in that in some way. In no particular order:

1. Go Fug Yourself

This is the first one...the first blog I ever got addicted to. It's two girls, Heather and Jessica, talking about celebrity fashion. I don't know much about fashion, but I visit this site nearly every weekday, and these girls make me laugh ridiculously hard. Also, last fall, via Twitter, they tried to dissuade me from wearing leg warmers. I told them I would be the poor man's Chloe Sevigny, and they told me to go forth with boldness, or something (see the blog, you'll understand). I'm sure they don't NEED more readers, but...
@fuggirls

2. BizChick Blogs

I love finding blogs this way...a friend of mine from high school saw (via Facebook) that I was blogging, and put me in touch with her friend. This is the only business/work-related blog on my list, but I love her style. It's accessible and practical for newbies like me (or maybe you).
@bizchickblogs

3. Sarah Hoopes (Diary)

Sarah is a Portlander who had a brilliant idea. Since "15 years is a great filter", she posts a page of her diaries from "this day, 15 years and older." The thing I love about Sarah's blog is that I think we can all see some of ourselves in her teenage tales of lust and longing, and the general injustice that is adolescence. Plus, I am almost certain she performed at "Mortified" with my friend Molly a while back, and how can you not love that? She's also been more than generous in regards to this here little blog, and I'm grateful.
@sarahhoopes

4. Blog One Another

The joys of Twitter are, I think, endless, and I happened upon this blog here. Jon Reid is in San Jose, CA, which was the "big city" next to where I grew up. His thoughts on faith and life and what it means to have the two irrevocably intertwined have made me think, and he has been kind and gracious, even when I have disagreed with his perspectives. He's also been very generous toward me and my blog. I love Twitter!
@jonmreid

5. Jesus Needs New PR

This is the blog of Matthew Paul Turner, who used to write exclusively about Contemporary Christian Music for magazines, is a bit of a cynic, now has a few books to his credit, and is very, very funny. He and his wife also blog for World Vision, Be on the lookout for the "Jesus Pictures of the Day".
@jesusneedsnewpr

BONUS BLOG! Hyperbole and a Half

I don't know who this girl is, where she comes from or what she eats for breakfast, but she is FUNNY. This blog is a celebration of all those stupid things you probably think about but would never actually voice, coupled with terrible (sorry), hilarious illustrations. NOTE: This blog is not advised for you if you are strongly anti-foul language, as it tends to be pervasive. But you will laugh, I promise.

Grammar nerds, look back about five posts for her post about the use of the term "alot". It's heaven.
@AllieBrosh

My mom is better than your mom.

You can fight me on this one, but it's Mother's Day, so we all have to decide we're right.

I do know one thing about my mom, something that has gotten clearer as I have gotten older: She had no idea what was coming.

I don't say this because I was such a horrible kid (in my own, insensitive way I still think I was probably awesome, as kids go), but because when I look at old pictures of my parents, it's what I think now. How could they have known what was waiting for them?

I'm sure in some sense this is true of everyone, but here's the crude, rough cliff's notes of my mom's story:

She married my dad in 1975, when she was just 17 and he 22. They're still married (a feat in itself).

When I was born in 1981, following a healthy pregnancy, I was blue, not moving and almost written off as a lost cause. Even when I revived, my parents were told I wouldn't see, hear. walk or talk. My mom was 23 (I have since done all of those things).

Eight years later, my sister Tara was born, and despite every measure being taken to ensure a safe pregnancy,   Tara had massive oxygen loss that has caused her to have severe physical and mental disabilities, epilepsy and other concerns. She remains a happy, beautiful kid.

So when other mothers experienced the stress of balancing ballet class and soccer practice for their kids, my mom balanced physical therapy, doctor's appointments and the host of shocks and surprises that followed. This is not to say that other mothers have it easy. But I think it's fair to say that when you have kids, there are stresses you can anticipate, and others you can't.

Throughout all of this, my mom has continued to work as a nurse, serving others when she is not caretaking at home. I have been out of my parents' house for a while, but Tara remains there, and requires round-the-clock care from both my parents.

My mother is the best juggler I have ever seen, and she manages to keep things running with grace, and humor, and a desire to serve others that can't be quieted. I know this is just a simple blog post, and bloggers all over are writing similar praises of their mothers today, many of them far more eloquently, but I have to say it: for me, my mom is the best, and I can only hope to glean some of her fortitude, her wit and her compassion for my life.

Love you, Mom. :)

Ireland is ruined for me.

Before you (or mainly, my mom) freak out, you should know that the title of this blog is mostly a misnomer. (Long-time readers will also have noted by now that the whole 'titling-every-post-with-a-funny-quote' thing didn't really last. It wasn't working. But don't worry--they'll still pop up.)

When I was about 12, I made a list of things I wanted to do before I die. In the interest of full disclosure, I'm not entirely certain this list was ever committed to paper, but it definitely lived in my head. And at this point, the only things I can remember being on it were "live in Ireland" and "swim with dolphins, but not somewhere they make you wear a safety vest with a logo on it".

Since then, the list has become a half-joke with myself, and I add celebrity things to it, like "kiss John Cusack on the cheek" and "give Michael Stipe a hug". But I still haven't swum (swam? swimmed? Swommeled?) with dolphins.

In 2003, from January to May, I participated in a semester abroad in Galway, Ireland. I relished every minute of it, and while other students were consistently travelling to Rome or Athens, I was consistently sitting around talking to locals and falling deeply in love with one or two or three Irish young men who may or may not have been attractive, given the amount of alcohol consumed, but who were witty and hilarious and quick and I loved them.

After graduating college in 2004, I went back to Ireland from September to December, lived in Dublin and worked at the Irish Film Institute, in their archive. The job wasn't as sexy as it sounds, and being in Dublin was much lonelier and less personal than Galway had been. The point is, though, I spent a fair amount of time in Ireland.

This means that, in my small, American outsider way, I kind of know what Ireland's like, or at  least what it was like til the end of 2004. And that means that, in America, Ireland is ruined for me.

Before I lived in Galway (which is a great town and you should visit--Dublin could be any big city anywhere, for the most part), I was an aficionado for all things Irish. I had those obnoxious Putamayo Celtic music cds, I had read "Angela's Ashes" three times, and I told myself I loved Yeats and the movie "The Commitments", even though neither of those things were true.

 As much as Americans want to tell you that we are culturally sensitive, there's a small-to-large part of us that thinks and hopes that Irish people are actually leprechauns. Americans get off the plane at Shannon or Dublin International shouting "Erin Go Braaaa!" and "Top o' the mornin' to ya!!!" without realizing a crucial fact:

No one in Ireland talks this way. No one. 

They also don't have Lucky Charms for sale in the supermarket. Most of them don't live in thatched-roof houses and sit by the fire, staring at the sea and talking about silkies, either. 

Dublin made me bitter and angry toward tourists in the extreme. In Galway, I was constantly getting mistaken for Irish by the American tourists ("Oh, God, Hal, she's American!" I remember one woman saying, with the strongest midwestern accent I have ever heard.), but I didn't watch them interact with the culture much. Most of the tourists who made it to Galway seemed to be a little more aware, anyway. 

In Dublin, one of my bus stops was also a bus stop for those obnoxious red sightseeing buses (my other bus stop was in front of a strip club). And one day, the bus driver/tour guide was talking the last of his passengers off his bus. They were a middle aged couple. They were very fat. They were carrying eight shopping bags each (this is the equivalent of wearing a target across your face). They were taking their sweet time. 

The man was asking the driver about more shopping. He responded in a strong Dubliner accent, his speech peppered with all sorts of clever and expected "Irish-isms". And I looked at this man, and thought, "Wow, he's literally jolly." And he chortled, and the Americans laughed loudly, and shuffled down the street, weighed down by their Aran sweaters and Irish linens. 

The man walked up to the window of the sandwich shop behind me, leaving his bus, and sat heavily at the outdoor counter with a sigh. "Is this day over yet?" he said to the shop owner wearily. Or, I should say, he said to the shop owner in a completely different accent. Still Irish, but mellower, less campy. 

Now, you can either get frustrated at this man for faking these people out, or you can think about the fact that he gets tipped by Americans, and the more he gives Americans what they want to see, the bigger his tips will be.

Working at the Irish Film Institute, I also got to see movies like "Adam and Paul" (view the trailer on YouTube here), about two heroin addicts in Dublin. It's a really good film, but it will never be distributed in the states, because it ruins the image that Americans have of the Irish. We might know there are heroin addicts everywhere, but we don't want to see it. Incidentally, most of "Adam and Paul" was filmed either in the neighborhood I lived in, or in the section of Dublin where I worked. 

So now, whenever someone suggests something "Irish" to me, I all but recoil. Movies are overdrawn, most of the music either makes me painfully nostalgic or just puts me in pain, and most books, shows, stories and the like are either too overdrawn to be tolerated or are too spot on to be endured. 

There are, of course, exceptions. If you haven't seen "My Left Foot", you should, mostly because Daniel Day-Lewis is in it and Daniel Day-Lewis is in the business of Changing Your Life. 

And for the dozens of people who have said, "Oh, you have cerebral palsy. Yeah, I've seen 'My Left Foot'."--I have cerebral palsy, but I don't have it like that.  Okay? 

I will probably go back to Ireland at some point, but it won't be for a while. I have never liked being a tourist, but maybe if I wait long enough, I can go back and be that woman on the bus, buying green and orange trinkets for everyone she knows. I might even love it.

Do you have places or memories like this, that have almost spoiled an idea over time? What do you do with it? 

It's late!

I have officially missed my deadline for the WordCount Blogathon 2010. Technically, this is the second time I have missed my deadline, since I didn't officially write a post on the first of May.

Call me lazy (go ahead, do it), but I think sometimes the act of missing deadlines is important.

I visited with a friend today who, for reasons both in her control and out of it, has been struggling with anxiety. As we talked, I heard her saying that every activity she had, every bit of time she spent, had a purpose.

For the record, I am all for having structure and purpose and a plan for your day. But sometimes you just need to hang out and be dumb. My advice to this friend was to find some women she could hang around and not have to grow with, not have to learn from, not have to work her brain over.

"Sit and talk about purses if you want," I said.

And tonight, I could have stayed home and written one of those deep, thoughtful posts that has been brewing, but I went to Eric's and watched The Wire instead. And the time, I think, was well spent. I brought key lime pie.

You can't (or at least it's not wise to) be lazy every day. But by the same token, you can't have every moment scheduled and planned and full of opportunities for growth. Sometimes things have to calm down, lay still, and chill out. And as luck would have it, we grow in that.

What about you? What's your favorite way to be lazy? What do you wish you worked at less?

And by the way, the Bipartisan Cafe, on SE 78th and Stark in Portland, makes the best key lime pie I've ever had.

A Single Man (2009)

I just came from seeing "A Single Man", for which Colin Firth and Julianne Moore both got Oscar nods (neither won).

The plot is basically this: It's 1964, and Firth, an English professor at a small college, is grieving the passing of his partner of 16 years. Moore is the best friend, and the two of them have a history as well. But, basically, it's a movie about grief.

Actually, it can be said better than that: the movie is about many things (being gay in 1964, for example), but it is really about this man moving through his grief: how he does it well, and how he maybe doesn't do it as well as he should.

And of course, Firth is amazing. I mean, come on. The man's a stud.

One of his students in the film is played by Nicholas Hoult, who most of us probably remember from "About a Boy" (2002). And he does a fine job, but the really remarkable thing is that, in seven years, Nicholas Hoult went from this:

to this:   

Yep. There's our boy Nick. 

So, see "A Single Man". It's well-done, it's stylistic, it's totally gorgeous, it's sad, and you'll get to sit there now going, I can't believe this is the same kid who sang "Killing Me Softly" for his mom at the school talent show.