Random Thoughts at 2AM

So, here's stuff:

I was thinking... I feel like we grow out of our knowledge of the purpose of life. If you think about it, kids often have a greater understanding of what's important than adults do. Take joy, for instance. How many adults have you met that seem to have never understood the concept? But kids find joy in even the smallest things. Take a trip to the store. You'll likely find grumpy adults jockeying for position in the checkout aisles, obsessing over what the next day brings, while a 4-year-old smiles in delight as he grabs a dirty penny from the ground, his new treasure. "Foolishness!" we adults would say. It's just a penny, right?
Wrong. Pennies bring children joy. Is that less substantial than when the latest contribution to an adult's 401k or when the Lions win the Super Bowl brings an adult joy? In then end, the "important" things of this life are really rather absurd in the Grand Scheme of things. The only things that last are eternal. So while we work during our wait for eternity, why not get excited over a penny? Jesus thought it made a pretty decent parable. (Sort of)

It's not just joy, though. Kids have an innocence that adults have far since left behind. I once sat through a VBS skit where a hypothetical child was said to be foolish for one of the things he thought. It disturbed me a little, because what was said to be foolishness was really innocence. And there's a large difference. That state of innocence, especially now, quickly disappears. Children are children for shorter amounts of time, and that saddens me.

Children also have an amazing ability to trust. They have yet to learn the harsh way of the world... but I would say their trust sets them apart. True trust is childlike trust. No reserves, no hesitation. Just trusting that Daddy will catch you after Uncle throws. And pure bliss in the middle of it all. I think this is what Jesus had in mind when He said that "No one will enter the Kingdom of Heaven unless he has the faith of a child." A paraphrase, of course. But true, nonetheless.

Lastly is a child's simplicity. They have such a grasp on the little things in life, like finding pennies. Flowers made of construction paper take on their own form of life in the eyes of a child. It is a child's simple nature that often puts a smile on our face and a tear in our eye. The belief that a hug and a smile can turn away all evil is such a beautiful thing, and can do wonders for someone at the edge of losing hope. Ironic, that is often a child that pulls from the cliffs over which we dangle.

All in all, I honestly think children have a better grasp on reality than adults do. We should listen to them sometimes. Because, along with everything else, children have the ability to tell the truth--what adults always think but rarely say. If you want an honest opinion... ask a child.

In the Mind of 10-Year-Old Jordan

So, I was a pretty weird little kid. I'm still weird, but I was advanced in weirdness for my age. For instance, I learned a little bit of the least common multiple rule by using my fingers. And I found great delight in the fact that I knew what square roots were. I was also the kid that peed in front of a couple making out on the beach, the kid that tried to "fly" by tying a sash around his neck to a support beam in his house and jumping off a mini-elephant slide, and the kid that tried to kick an appraiser in the butt for "trying to steal his house." Yeah. I was that kid.

All that to say that I developed some weird theories at the age of ten. One that comes to mind is the "relative timeline" thing. This is how it went: So, I always was amused by the fact that time seemed to fly by at some times, while at other times it moved at an unbearably slow pace. So, in a random way, I devised this thought. Maybe we all experience life at our own pace. Like, we all experience the same reality (with no differences in events or the like), but none of us experiences it at the exact same moment.

Say, for instance, that you hand me a banana. Nothing complicated, just an exchange of delicious fruit. But as I experience that, you could, in your mind, be at a totally different point of life doing something completely unrelated, like losing your first tooth or getting a haircut. You are unbound by my relative time.

In this "relative timeline," this would continue for everyone until everybody collectively reached the end of the existence of time. It just blew my mind to think that I'm the only one really experiencing these events at this point in time.

Well, that's enough of 10-year-old Jordan. Back to being a college student.

Day of Remembrance

This is my day of remembrance.

For the time I fell on the stake on severed my tonsils.
Thanks for keeping me from further harm.
This is my day of remembrance

For when I nearly hung myself trying to "fly."
Thanks for keeping me from choking to death.
This is my day of remembrance.

For when I got lost in the woods, scratched and scared.
Thanks for hearing my tear-filled cry.
This is my day of remembrance.

For the night we came back to find Grandma had a stroke.
Thanks for taking care of her.
This is my day of remembrance.

For the tough years Grandma spent living at our house.
Thanks for giving us peace and patience.
This is my day of remembrance.

For the time I started basketball, something new and different.
Thanks for giving me amazing new friendships.
This is my day of remembrance.

For that time at Lake Ann I rededicated my life to You.
Thanks for calling me to grow with You.
This is my day of remembrance.

For when we changed churches because of some issues.
Thanks for giving us a great church and close friends.
This is my day of remembrance.

For when busted myself up over numerous basketball games.
Thanks for preventing any major injuries.
This is my day of remembrance.

For when I had that crazy allergic reaction and almost died.
Thanks for the second chance and new perspective.
This is my day of remembrance.

For  when I went off to college, unsure what to expect.
Thanks for the awesome friends you gave me.
This is my day of remembrance.

For all the trials and triumphs I will go through.
Thanks in advance for being ever-present.
This is my day of remembrance.

For the time you rode into Jerusalem on a donkey.
Thanks for declaring yourself a Messiah of peace.
This is my day of remembrance.

For the time you carried your cross to the place of the skull.
Thanks for also carrying my sins and the sins of us all.
This is my day of remembrance.

For the forgiveness you uttered while hanging on the tree.
Thanks for your trust in God as you sighed your last breath.
This is my day of remembrance.

For the power you displayed as you broke down death's doors.
Thanks for bringing victory to us all.
This is my day of remembrance.

For when you will return and reign over all.
Thanks for everything that you've ever done.
Then will be the day of ultimate remembrance.

During the night, and during the day, you stood beside me all of the way.
Until you return and we party forever, I rely on my Savior in every endeavor.

This is my day of remembrance... so remember...

The Winds... 'n stuff

And why do the winds change?
Are their desires so fleeting?
Are their motivations so fickle?
They wander to and fro, never to be satisfied.
Yet they have more resolve than the heart
It is ever-searching, ever-changing
Unsure of its own two feet, it knows not what it wants
It waves back and forth, sure to give way and topple
It is insecure and must be locked up
Hidden from all to protect all from its destructive ways
If set loose, it tears apart all it touches
Leaving nothing but dust in its wake
So it must remain under both lock and key
Shut in a cell never to be opened
Lest it be the ruin of us all

...

It is true - "The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?" So I entrust mine to the One, the Only One, who can handle its tumultuous behavior. I thank God for His grace - He restrains the bent nature within me and loans to me His perfect one. I must resolve to make good use of it, lest I prove myself an untrustworthy steward.

...

Lately, I've had this strange urge to exclaim something in a foreign language whenever I get excited or surprised. I feel like saying something that means, "Oh, wow!" in cooler terms. I must discover this phrase; otherwise, I will be doomed to a life without precision. That, or I'll be just a little less happy whenever something makes me excited.

...

What is greater, an idea or the words that convey it?
In my opinion, the idea holds superiority. Words are but a medium through which an idea takes form. It is the idea itself that is inspired and inspires. It is true that without proper words, an idea can fail. I concede that. But without an idea the words carry no meaning. They become refuse, chaff, a dull horn that drones in the early morning. But a concept needs only a spark to ignite. If one can but grasp the tiniest bit of an idea, he can be won to its cause. Martin Luther King, Jr. was a great orator, but it was the power of his dream that fueled his words.

It is the greatest of ideas that elude our lips as we search for words. Their abstract nature taunts us until we put it to rest with sound of our voice. I'm sure you've felt it: You are on the brink of a revelation, an epiphany. You are inches from grasping that which you wish to convey, but it may as well be light years. But try hard enough, long enough, and the idea takes form on your lips, and it is beautiful. In that moment where the abstract meets the concrete, you know that something truly amazing has happened.

So, while an idea relies on words to be expressed, it is the idea that holds the true power. It is only a matter of time before it manifests itself.

Battling Phantoms

So, back during winter break I got a new game--Batman: Arkham Asylum. It's a pretty fun game, but that's not important. What is important is that in the game there is a challenge to destroy a bunch of chattering "Joker Teeth." Well, I played that game quite a bit during the break. Apparently the joker teeth stayed with me. One night, I awoke in a rather frenzied state, positive that there were joker teeth chattering everywhere on the floor around my bed. Naturally, I bolted out of my bed and ran out of the room. After a minute or two had passed, I realized that there were, indeed, no phantom dentures out to kill me. I crawled back into bed and slept through the rest of the night.

About a month and a half ago, I awoke with the overwhelming conviction that snakes were crawling on my bed and all over me. Once again, I bolted out of bed and out of the room. This time, however, my leg must have been asleep, because as I exited the room I fell all over myself. I jumped to my feet and continued my hasty retreat, only to fall again. This happened a third time. It was like I was trying to run on the sides of my feet or something. I finally managed to keep my feet long enough to make it to the kitchen where I promptly sat on my duff next to the dishwasher. I sat there until my dad came upstairs to see what all the ruckus was about. Apparently collapsing to the floor makes a little bit of noise. After I came to my senses I was able to sleep for the rest of the night. My ankle was sore for the next few days.

A couple of weeks ago, I again awoke in a panicked state. This time, I had the distinct feeling that something was attacking me, though I wasn't sure what. What was odd was that I could physically feel it hitting me. Assured that I was in mortal danger, I did what anyone would do when attacked by an invisible assailant--I bolted out of my bed and ran out of the room. Before, that would have been the end of my troubles. However, the wraith wasn't yet finished with me. I stood in horror as I felt it (whatever "it" was) strike me again and again. What scared me the most was that I couldn't see whatever it was that was hitting me. Unwilling to go down without a fight, I started throwing punches. A jab here, a haymaker there--one-two punches out the wazoo. Unfortunately, I couldn't make any of them land. To my knowledge, the wraith dodges backward every time I attacked, then struck me when I rested. After punches failed, I tried kicking it with the same result. Knowing that no attack I attempted would work, I bolted (a rather recurring theme) into the kitchen, where there was plenty of light to ward off the attacker. I hopped onto the counter and cowered for a while. Random punches are rather exhausting, so once I had worked up enough courage, I got a drink of water to quench my thirst. Throat no longer dry, I tensed myself, ran back into my room, and slammed the door to the kitchen. But the phantom was next to the other door, so I leaped over the bed and yanked the door shut. Unsure as to whether or not the attacker made it through before I shut the door, I crawled under my covers and cowered until I fell back to sleep. Needless to say, it was a rather terrifying experience.

Oh, one more thing. Francis Bacon had some cool ideas for typefaces. You should look into that.

Inception

Go watch Inception. Have your mind blown away. You won't be disappointed.

Seriously, though, Inception is probably the best movie I have ever seen. It's at least my favorite movie. Although any movie with a similar concept intrigues me, this one blew me away. Dream theory never looked so good.

You know, I wanted to write more, but Inception should stand by itself. On a related note, however, I started a blog that lists my various subconscious mishaps. http://lastnightindreamworld.blogspot.com/

Hiatus, Sabbatical, Whatever

I'm taking a bit of a break, starting now, ending later.

The Arrogant Man

I saw a very irritating man this afternoon. He was one of the most arrogant, prideful, conceited men I have ever seen; it was practically painful to watch him. In every act he showed himself to be filled with his own ego. He drove those around him into the dirt with the words he spoke and the things he did, caring not an ounce for them or their feelings.

This man was also hateful. As I saw him speaking to those near him, he spat words of contempt at all those around him. That was just it--he spoke at people, rather than to them. It was as if he considered his words to be of far more importance than any of the words hovering over his hears. His actions toward his friends showed that he really cared nothing for them; I pitied his friends. They obviously cared for him and wanted what was best for him. He spewed venom nonetheless.

The worst part of that man, though, was how fake he was. I could see it in his eyes; they told a story all their own. His lips uttered opposites. He said what he did not mean. I watched as he put on a glamorous show. He lived as if he were one who deserved to be seen--who must be seen--because of his grand actions, deeds, and thoughts. But one look at his eyes, the only truthful organs in his body, and I knew that inside he was hollow. He had no more substance than a marshmallow.

I know it's wrong to hate another in God's image, but I found myself hating that man. I glared at him with unforgiving eyes. But at the same time I felt sorry for him. Living a life of pride, contempt, and falsities is something no man should have to do. So, I watched the man until I could watch no more. I had grown sick of him. So, I walked away from the mirror.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This post required I be in the right state of self-loathing. Unfortunately, I rarely find that state, so I had to write it while dwelling on past states. This one was fun.

~ Jordan

Technology Hates Me

So I've decided that all of technology has conspired to make my life a nightmare. It seems like all the electronic devices I come into contact with have "quirks" that make things complicated.

Example 1: My Previous Phone
This phone was fine for most of its short life. But for the last two or three months of my life, it decided not to interact with me anymore. Its screen would periodically flicker on and off, and the backlight would sometimes become completely dark. It became progressively worse until the day I moved back home from college. It then decided it no longer wanted to turn on its screen. You see, this is a problem especially with that phone, because it was a touch-dial phone. No screen meant that I had to guess the numbers I was pushing. Reading texts was nearly impossible, and I had to hope I didn't make any spelling errors while texting. Needless to say, I returned that phone (luckily, the warranty was still active).

Example 2: My Current Phone
The phone I have (for now) is, I'm quite sure, demon-possessed. Basically, what it will do is press its own touch-screen buttons. This means that it will open menus at random, send premature texts, and try to delete all my texts without my permission. There was one instance where I was trying to respond to a text, and the demon caused me to send three messages that read "-a". After that, it erased a large portion of past texts. I expect to one day receive a text from myself that will read, "lol u r as good as dead. watch ur back." That phone is basically a bratty, rebellious teenager. For anyone who was into Pokemon when they were little (don't lie - you know you loved it), it was like a traded Pokemon that wouldn't listen to you if you didn't have the right gym badge. I don't have the right gym badge.

Example 3: My Previous Camera
This was partially my fault. I got it for Christmas and left it in the cold car (hooray!) without thinking. It didn't like that. After that, it decided never to turn on again.

Example 4: My New Camera
This one isn't as bad. When it runs low on battery (as it did while I was in Mexico), it decides when and where it wants to turn on. So, if we were passing a large Gothic church being painted yellow, it was taking a nap. As soon as the church was out of sight, though, it awoke from its nap. It has new batteries now.

Example 5: This Computer (My CU Laptop)
Because I was an early enroll student, I used to have the old CU laptop. Well, when the freshmen moved in last year, I found out I could exchange it for this new one. In my opinion, it was a good trade. It doesn't have many problems - really only one. It periodically will click its own left mouse button and hold it down. (To understand the absurdity, you must realize that I have turned off the touchpad, as I hate all touchpads.) Unfortuanately, it still finds a way to cause me to drag unwanted images around the screen and highlight large sections of random text.

Example 6: The Accounting Office Printer
I work in the CU Accouting Office. They have a receipt printer that looks like it survived the first World War. It sometimes refuses to cooperate. This morning, I discovered it was jammed. This instantly darkened my day, as it is very difficult to realign the printer. This meant that it took many, many tries, too much paper, and a lot of frustration to get it back into place.

Example 7: Every Freaking Alarm In My and My Roommate's Room
My roommate has an iPod dock alarm clock. That means that he awakes to We As Human in the morning... most days. I have a normal alarm clock, and we both have cell phones with alarms. My roommate is also a light sleeper. Nevertheless, one morning (coincidentally, the day my roommate had an important Chemistry exam) the alarms slept through their alarms, apparently. Brad awoke to a phone call from one of his classmates asking him where he was. We discussed this later in the day. Neither of us remembered waking up or turning off the alarms (the radio alarm is extremely loud, mind you). Brad looked at his iPod and discovered that it had cycled through 7-8 very loud songs, though we didn't hear a thing. My alarm, which I specifically remembered setting the night before, had also been silent. I've always hated alarm clocks.

Example 8: The Phone I Owned Before My Previous Phone
This probably belongs back with the other two, but I just remembered it. This issue was mainly caused by use and age. That phone had a couple of buttons (namely the number 5) that wouldn't register when they were pressed. So I had to pound them in, which resulted in a double entry. Phones are stupid.

Example 9: All Lawnmowers
Self-explanatory

Example 10: My Toshiba Gigabeat
Yes, i own an MP3 player. It is not an iPod. In its younger rebellious years, it would turn its own sound to the maximum volume... while I was wearing the headphones. That was annoying, but I fixed the issue and it no longer troubles me anymore. It's actually one of my most reliable pieces of technology.

So there you have it - many (but not all) of my technological woes. Why they target me, I'm not sure. There was this one scholarship essay I wrote about technology. It was some scholarship sponsored bu Samsung, and it asked me to write about my thoughts on the effect of technology in the future. For some unfathomable reason, I decided it would be a good idea to write about our reliance on technology, how it has become a crutch, and the consequences in the future. Needless to say (but I'll say it, anyway), I didn't get that scholarship. In a nutshell, that is my battle with electrical appliances.

One more thing: I decided today that Dr. Crompton has the most delightful accent ever.

The Power of Words

Possibly my favorite book is Fahrenheit 451. It not only has a great storyline, but it also influenced/enhanced the way I viewed literature. In Fahrenheit 451, the world (or at least America) is a very different place. Televisions cover entire walls, people drive at insane speeds, and people are basically fed their information and beliefs. The most prominent aspect of this story, however, is the role of "firemen." These firemen do not extinguish fires; the role of these men is to burn any books that are found. In the world presented by Ray Bradbury, owning and reading books is prohibited by law. Essentially, people of this world do not think for themselves (or think at all). The story follows a fireman who becomes curious about books after a shocking encounter with an old woman. Unwilling to be separated from her Bible, she is burned along with the books she owns. His curiosity builds until he takes one of the books from a raid for himself. Through reading and his newly-developed ability to think, he is finally able to see what the world has become. More shocking events follow in light of his decisions and the state of the world.

This is a very rough summary of the book, and does not do it justice (understandable as the last and only time I've read it was over four years ago). However, it gave me a very strong view of the power of the written word, and in the case of Fahrenheit 451, the unread word.

The unread word carries with it a destructive power. Its limiting power withholds knowledge and squashes free thinking. Without the words of others, one does not have a base from which to jump. This is what I think of when I think of the unopened book.

The unopened book, the unread word - they are one and the same. The unread word, in relation to the "non-reader," might as well have never been written. The unopened book contains blank pages. Knowledge unheeded is nearly worthless, but knowledge unheard is no knowledge at all. This is why reading is so critical to the critical mind. It opens sealed books. It unleashes ideals, feelings, and histories. I wonder what might have happened had I not read some of the books I have read. Would I think the same, feel the same? Would I know the things I know? Would I be me at all? So I strive to open unopened books.

Even more destructive than the unopened book/unread word are the unwritten word and untold story. It is more dangerous because of the scope of its effect. Think of the most powerful and influential writings. What would have been the effect an absence of those words? It wipes out ideals, thoughts, and memories, not simply from an individual, but from all of humanity. Had Abraham not written/spoken his Gettysburg Address, what would have been the effect on all writings to follow?

When thoughts and ideas float through an thinker's mind, what will be the effect if he does not write them down? The unwritten book, the untold story - each affect both the thinker/teller and the hearer/reader. The unwritten book affects the thinker, because he is not able to make his thoughts concrete. The teller is not able to learn and grow through the telling of his story. The hearer and reader is derived of the wisdom and experience the book or story has to offer, and he is unable to grow because of this.

Unfortunately, I struggle with the unwritten word. Hopefully, this will do away with a little of that illness. Sorry if this seems like rambling. Sometimes it's difficult to reign in the thoughts in my head into something comprehensible. But it's a start, eh?



Random Question of the Day: How do you pronounce 'pajamas'? I am split between puh-ja-muhs and puh-jah-muhs. However, I had a Peanuts computer game years ago, and Charlie Brown used the latter pronunciation. I'm inclined to believe Charlie Brown.