pressed -- the fallacy of freedom
ian -- the fact of freedom
life being beautiful -- the foolishness of freedom
good job bloggers...lots of good reads...many good insights to freedom.
1/31/2004
there and back again, sponsored by delta
I awoke this morning at 4:15 AM with a splitting headache. I forgot to bring anything with me, so I went down to the front desk where I was charged 94 cents for two Bayer caplets that did nothing except get stuck in my throat.. Nothing was relieving the pain (which now that I think about it wasn't as much "splitting" as it was "pounding" as if my cranial coconut was being grasped by an island primate, repeatedly struck against a sharp rock in an attempt to split it open and find its meaty contents, thus satiating its monkey-sized appetite and convincing a small band of researchers that the creature was evidencing its evolutionary origins of problem solving and implement utilization....but I digress).
I decided a bite of breakfast might help allay the pain. I was correct. Technically.
Something in the breakfast caused an allergic reaction, which, by the time I arrived at the Orlando International Airport resulted in a runny nose, a closing throat, repeated sneezing, watery eyes, swelling lips, and a dry tongue. I looked a bit suspicious, but I was simply in need of pseudoephedrine.
Which I soon found and was pushing between my swollen lips before I had paid the necessary extortionist's fees common in airport shops. By this time, the headache no longer concerned me. "Do you want to buy water?" the worried clerk asked.
"no...time...." I urked out.
We were delayed by twenty minutes because the ground crew forgot to do the security sweep. This is what the flight attendant said to me and my next door neighbor, since we were in the main door bulkhead/confessional booth. This added time had allowed me to progress toward normal biological operations, but I still thought I might have wanted to have remained blissfully ignorant of the nature of the delay. Now that I was aware, I began to wonder what else they might have forgotten. It's kind of like when the captain gets on the mic and says, "we've got a small team of engineers working on a small mechanical 'thing,' in the back. It's absolutely vital, but no big deal. We'll tell you when its ready." I'd rather they not just say anything and let me assume the flight crew is simply reviewing their extensive game plan on how to make this the most wonderfully spectacular flight ever so I don't instead take the mental journey through a highlight reel of every airline disaster movie starring Robert Stack, Ernest Borgnine, Burgess Meredeth and/or Shelley Winters that I saw in the late 1970s.
The flight went fine, with my inevitable slumber between take-off and touchdown. We sat on the tarmac in Atlanta for 15 minutes because Traffic Control Terminal Party Seat Planners gave away our seat at the gate because we were behind schedule.
The guy who sat next to me, who I can declare with a certain amount of confidence was the John McNair mentioned in this article here, was totally stressed out because the delays were certain to make him miss a connecting flight that would later connect to a flight to Lake Tahoe for a ski trip with friends. I tried to be comforting, compassionate, and encouraging. In the end, though, I fell back asleep.
My family was waiting for me at the airport. There's nothing quite like having your children run at you with unbridled joy. Kelli was happy too, but her joy was bridled by the fact that she had already extracted my luggage from the regurgitator.
It's nice to be home. Especially after the two hour nap to sleep off the excess pseudoephedrine. Of course, the antihistimine has completely dehydrated me, so I feel like I could give an alpaca a run for its money with the wooly saliva being spun in my mouth. But I'm home, and that's what matters.
I decided a bite of breakfast might help allay the pain. I was correct. Technically.
Something in the breakfast caused an allergic reaction, which, by the time I arrived at the Orlando International Airport resulted in a runny nose, a closing throat, repeated sneezing, watery eyes, swelling lips, and a dry tongue. I looked a bit suspicious, but I was simply in need of pseudoephedrine.
Which I soon found and was pushing between my swollen lips before I had paid the necessary extortionist's fees common in airport shops. By this time, the headache no longer concerned me. "Do you want to buy water?" the worried clerk asked.
"no...time...." I urked out.
We were delayed by twenty minutes because the ground crew forgot to do the security sweep. This is what the flight attendant said to me and my next door neighbor, since we were in the main door bulkhead/confessional booth. This added time had allowed me to progress toward normal biological operations, but I still thought I might have wanted to have remained blissfully ignorant of the nature of the delay. Now that I was aware, I began to wonder what else they might have forgotten. It's kind of like when the captain gets on the mic and says, "we've got a small team of engineers working on a small mechanical 'thing,' in the back. It's absolutely vital, but no big deal. We'll tell you when its ready." I'd rather they not just say anything and let me assume the flight crew is simply reviewing their extensive game plan on how to make this the most wonderfully spectacular flight ever so I don't instead take the mental journey through a highlight reel of every airline disaster movie starring Robert Stack, Ernest Borgnine, Burgess Meredeth and/or Shelley Winters that I saw in the late 1970s.
The flight went fine, with my inevitable slumber between take-off and touchdown. We sat on the tarmac in Atlanta for 15 minutes because Traffic Control Terminal Party Seat Planners gave away our seat at the gate because we were behind schedule.
The guy who sat next to me, who I can declare with a certain amount of confidence was the John McNair mentioned in this article here, was totally stressed out because the delays were certain to make him miss a connecting flight that would later connect to a flight to Lake Tahoe for a ski trip with friends. I tried to be comforting, compassionate, and encouraging. In the end, though, I fell back asleep.
My family was waiting for me at the airport. There's nothing quite like having your children run at you with unbridled joy. Kelli was happy too, but her joy was bridled by the fact that she had already extracted my luggage from the regurgitator.
It's nice to be home. Especially after the two hour nap to sleep off the excess pseudoephedrine. Of course, the antihistimine has completely dehydrated me, so I feel like I could give an alpaca a run for its money with the wooly saliva being spun in my mouth. But I'm home, and that's what matters.
1/30/2004
packing it in
We made our excursion to Universal Downtown tonight. We walked in the rain over to the Hard Rock Cafe. Five Baptists Who Couldn't Have Been More Out Of Place. Actually we went at the discretion of boss3 and it was a good time. There was a big cheerleading competition that will take place there tomorrow, so the place was packed with teenage girls. At one point, there was a dramatic interpretation of Bring It On, as two squads opposed one another for an in-your-face impromptu competition. Team One, AKA "The White Girls" did a peppy little cheer evocative of the whole "we got spirit yes we do, we got spirit how 'bout you?!??!" thing that was popular when I was a youth.
Then, they were answered by Team Two, AKA, "The Girls with Rhythym." For a moment they stood there incredulously, as if to say with hand in the air, "nuh-uh you di-unt." Then, spontaenously, they erupted into this stomping, clapping, slapping, shouting cheer that momentarily made me think that even I could have stood and shook my groove thing.
Don't worry. I didn't. I'm a Baptist, remember?
It was all very entertaining. But it was loud. So loud, in fact, that one of my dinnermates at one point actually plugged his ears and scrunched his face in such a grimace that I feared for his very life. At one point, the restaurant crew began dancing to YMCA, and encouraged us all to join in. I somehow don't think it would have been entirely appropriate to have a quintent of denominational servants acting as the caboose of a Groove Train engined by Hard Rock Gals and linked by cheerleaders. We decided that it was time for us to call it a night.
We head for the airport at 7 AM -- I'm sure I'll sleep until I touch down again in Atlanta. It's been as intense of a trip as I've been on since beginning my work here. It's been an awesome experience to be a part of it. Cool stuff happened today, I'll write of it soon.
Then, they were answered by Team Two, AKA, "The Girls with Rhythym." For a moment they stood there incredulously, as if to say with hand in the air, "nuh-uh you di-unt." Then, spontaenously, they erupted into this stomping, clapping, slapping, shouting cheer that momentarily made me think that even I could have stood and shook my groove thing.
Don't worry. I didn't. I'm a Baptist, remember?
It was all very entertaining. But it was loud. So loud, in fact, that one of my dinnermates at one point actually plugged his ears and scrunched his face in such a grimace that I feared for his very life. At one point, the restaurant crew began dancing to YMCA, and encouraged us all to join in. I somehow don't think it would have been entirely appropriate to have a quintent of denominational servants acting as the caboose of a Groove Train engined by Hard Rock Gals and linked by cheerleaders. We decided that it was time for us to call it a night.
We head for the airport at 7 AM -- I'm sure I'll sleep until I touch down again in Atlanta. It's been as intense of a trip as I've been on since beginning my work here. It's been an awesome experience to be a part of it. Cool stuff happened today, I'll write of it soon.
looking in to this one
The friend I mentioned a while back as a finalist in the MoveOn.org "I hate the President" campaign has sent an email that CBS is "censoring" the leftist political organization by refusing to air the winning ad from the competition.
Here's MoveOn's position on the issue, which I haven't reviewed closely.
I totally oppose censorship, even (especially) if it's designs are to protect a president I support (despite his recent propensity to spend taxpayer money like Paris Hilton trying to shop her way out of a video scandal-induced depression).
Is it censorship, or merely CBS's right to make a business decision to avoid controversy?
I really don't know, I'm asking.
Here's MoveOn's position on the issue, which I haven't reviewed closely.
I totally oppose censorship, even (especially) if it's designs are to protect a president I support (despite his recent propensity to spend taxpayer money like Paris Hilton trying to shop her way out of a video scandal-induced depression).
Is it censorship, or merely CBS's right to make a business decision to avoid controversy?
I really don't know, I'm asking.
i did this before crossing
I added look both ways to the blogroll...fun reading, good links...particularly the last two top tens:
10 ways Bush can lose
10 answers for anything
10 ways Bush can lose
10 answers for anything
why are all the cool kids jumping off the cliff?
So much for my big plans of taking it easy.
Every one is convening in the lobby to go eat overpriced food at downtown Disney or somewhere like that.
Don't worry, we won't tell anyone we're Baptist.
I could have said "I'm just going to stay in," but....
...I crumbled. The risk of being stigmatized as an antisocial, couple with the lure of a $12 cheeseburger proved to be kryptonite to my plans of solace.
Every one is convening in the lobby to go eat overpriced food at downtown Disney or somewhere like that.
Don't worry, we won't tell anyone we're Baptist.
I could have said "I'm just going to stay in," but....
...I crumbled. The risk of being stigmatized as an antisocial, couple with the lure of a $12 cheeseburger proved to be kryptonite to my plans of solace.
ask me how I feel
When I woke up today, I felt a bit like this:
I'm not ill...just been proverbially burning the proverbial candle at the proverbial both ends, proverbially speaking.
After some great sessions today (really, I mean that) where it was a good thing I wore my teflon underwear (don't ask, really), I feel a bit more like this:*
I doubt my evening plans include an outward excursion.

I'm not ill...just been proverbially burning the proverbial candle at the proverbial both ends, proverbially speaking.
After some great sessions today (really, I mean that) where it was a good thing I wore my teflon underwear (don't ask, really), I feel a bit more like this:*

I doubt my evening plans include an outward excursion.
updates and new requests
From yesterday's needs:
Aletha is conscious and moving her limbs. She is off the ventilator and will probably not need surgery. Guy should be getting out of the hospital today. His memory is much better.
And new needs:
Randy's father passed away yesterday.
Talon left Baghdad yesterday in a convoy to Kuwait.
Terry was admitted to the hospital with chest pains.
They, like I, certainly appreciate your prayers on their behalf.
Aletha is conscious and moving her limbs. She is off the ventilator and will probably not need surgery. Guy should be getting out of the hospital today. His memory is much better.
And new needs:
Randy's father passed away yesterday.
Talon left Baghdad yesterday in a convoy to Kuwait.
Terry was admitted to the hospital with chest pains.
They, like I, certainly appreciate your prayers on their behalf.
oh...this is what the F stand for
Foolish.
Senator John F Kerry has never found a position that he didn't like, oft flipping then flopping on just about any given issue.
Yet, there is, by his own account, one issue that he has remained remarkably consistent. It is the one subject that "he refuses to play games with," as compared presumably with, say, the apparently frivolity-worthy topic of war in Iraq. That very serious matter, by standard of comparison, is his unflinching, unwavering support of the war waged against the unborn.
How brave.
Senator John F Kerry has never found a position that he didn't like, oft flipping then flopping on just about any given issue.
Yet, there is, by his own account, one issue that he has remained remarkably consistent. It is the one subject that "he refuses to play games with," as compared presumably with, say, the apparently frivolity-worthy topic of war in Iraq. That very serious matter, by standard of comparison, is his unflinching, unwavering support of the war waged against the unborn.
How brave.
bad tv
Doing a little editing work before my first conference begins at 10:45.
The rap artist Twista is on Regis & Kelly. Morning talkshow TV is a genre I rarely have the opportunity to experience, but this performer on this show certainly seems like a mismatch.
Yet, the 146 women in the audience (and I'm assuming that its 146 women because someone earlier was told to pick a number between 1 and 146 for an audience prize winner, and because certainly no man chooses to sit in on this for an hour...oh wait, I just did....nevermind about that last part) all cheered like crazy when he finished his song.
Apparently, Twista (I'm guessing this isn't the name given by his momma) is known for his machine-gun style rap. While he was certainly impressive, his presentation was yet another alarming revelation that I am indeed turning in to my own father.
< grumpy old man>"You call that music? Back in my day, you could actually understand what the singers were saying." < /grumpy old man>
The rap artist Twista is on Regis & Kelly. Morning talkshow TV is a genre I rarely have the opportunity to experience, but this performer on this show certainly seems like a mismatch.
Yet, the 146 women in the audience (and I'm assuming that its 146 women because someone earlier was told to pick a number between 1 and 146 for an audience prize winner, and because certainly no man chooses to sit in on this for an hour...oh wait, I just did....nevermind about that last part) all cheered like crazy when he finished his song.
Apparently, Twista (I'm guessing this isn't the name given by his momma) is known for his machine-gun style rap. While he was certainly impressive, his presentation was yet another alarming revelation that I am indeed turning in to my own father.
< grumpy old man>"You call that music? Back in my day, you could actually understand what the singers were saying." < /grumpy old man>
1/29/2004
blogroll
I've added live from guillotine to the "read it" list. A mom of five who is either clinically insane, or just trying to have a sense of humor about life.
check her out.
check her out.
i'm so pathetic
Just a few hours after I share how I was prideful over the editing thing, we "unveil" this resource for our partners doing the work in the state organizations. As a unrelated presentation goes on, boss3 leans over to me and points out a glaring typo. That I had missed.
Minutes later, boss2 whispers and points in the book to boss3. I look and see the addition of a large font period that should have beentheir there in a chapter subhead. Oops.
My thoughts: I am so glad my name isn't on this!
I have so many lessons to learn....but you'll first need to excuse me, this log poking me in the eye is really painful.
Minutes later, boss2 whispers and points in the book to boss3. I look and see the addition of a large font period that should have been
My thoughts: I am so glad my name isn't on this!
I have so many lessons to learn....but you'll first need to excuse me, this log poking me in the eye is really painful.
and another
Two dear friends from Colorado were in a moped bike accident in Mexico, where they were vacationing with other friends. They were both emergency air-lifted to San Antonio where they can be treated for their injuries.
Aletha is in a medically-induced coma for head injuries.
Wayne has a broken collarbone and has suffered amnesia from a severe concussion.
Thank you for your prayers.
Aletha is in a medically-induced coma for head injuries.
Wayne has a broken collarbone and has suffered amnesia from a severe concussion.
Thank you for your prayers.
give the kid a buzz
From my email:
I did pray for Joe William. And I called the number and it is legitimate. Thanks.
I did pray for Joe William. And I called the number and it is legitimate. Thanks.
apathy bowl xxxviii
I actually had to be reminded that Carolina is one of the teams up for the Big Enchilada.
I have never been less interested in a Super Bowl in my life.
I have never been less interested in a Super Bowl in my life.
egomaniacs anonymous
I, just like you, suffer from the character flaw of pride.
I want to be the man who boasts only in my Savior, but from time to time, I find desires of self-promotion getting in the way.
Ken Blanchard, of Lead like Jesus and One Minute Manager fame, suggests we ought to develop an egomaniacs anonymous network where we can start every meeting with:
"Hi, my name is (your name), and I am an egomaniac."
I see much wisdom in this. I need to do this because I need to be periodically reminded that this life is not about me. And when I make it about me, I foolishly take attention away from who really deserves the focus.
So...
Hi. My name is Bryan, and I am an egomaniac.
This is where y'all say together, "Hello Bryan."
We recently had a discipleship resource come from the printer's. I wasn't on the team when the project was initiated, but just before it was sent to the printer's, I was asked to give it a once-over, and found several areas that required attention. When the product was unveiled, my name was nowhere to be found in the editing credits, which disappointed me. My happiness should be that we put out a better resource, and it is. But I'm upset that I was upset that I wasn't acknowledged in the credits that nobody but editors read. I have nothing but selfish reasons for having wanted to be listed, and I'm ashamed of myself for the attitude of my heart over the matter. Thirteen little missing letters, in 7-point font, with a black typeface that seems aptly representative of the mark of sin. I'm so very thankful and humbled that the editor of my life uses a pen dipped in an inkwell of His own blood, spilt for the purpose of blotting out my transgressions.
This is where you let me sit down and you take your turn at the cathartic process of re-aligning yourself with the Father by sharing with the group.
I want to be the man who boasts only in my Savior, but from time to time, I find desires of self-promotion getting in the way.
Ken Blanchard, of Lead like Jesus and One Minute Manager fame, suggests we ought to develop an egomaniacs anonymous network where we can start every meeting with:
"Hi, my name is (your name), and I am an egomaniac."
I see much wisdom in this. I need to do this because I need to be periodically reminded that this life is not about me. And when I make it about me, I foolishly take attention away from who really deserves the focus.
So...
Hi. My name is Bryan, and I am an egomaniac.
This is where y'all say together, "Hello Bryan."
We recently had a discipleship resource come from the printer's. I wasn't on the team when the project was initiated, but just before it was sent to the printer's, I was asked to give it a once-over, and found several areas that required attention. When the product was unveiled, my name was nowhere to be found in the editing credits, which disappointed me. My happiness should be that we put out a better resource, and it is. But I'm upset that I was upset that I wasn't acknowledged in the credits that nobody but editors read. I have nothing but selfish reasons for having wanted to be listed, and I'm ashamed of myself for the attitude of my heart over the matter. Thirteen little missing letters, in 7-point font, with a black typeface that seems aptly representative of the mark of sin. I'm so very thankful and humbled that the editor of my life uses a pen dipped in an inkwell of His own blood, spilt for the purpose of blotting out my transgressions.
This is where you let me sit down and you take your turn at the cathartic process of re-aligning yourself with the Father by sharing with the group.
1/28/2004
dean trippi's up; neel's for a prayer
Amidst a clarion call of "Dead Man Walking," Dr. Deanmento replaces his "I'm an outsider" campaign's manager with a lobbyist insider.
Is the taste of desperation as bitter and gagging as it appears?
BTW, did anyone else catch the Daily Show interview Dean did with John Stewart? Give the good doc his due...he earned points for those of us who respect self deprecation over self aggrandization (unlike Kerry).
In a bold move orchestrated by his new campaign manager, Dean challenges someone from the crowd at today's rally to come and "pull his finger" for a sound byte planned to take attention off of last week's "YEAARRGH" fiasco.
One more question....It's becoming fairly evident that the Mass. senator is Kerry-ing on toward a likely victory. How is this going to play out that the one guy that nobody endorsed at first is going to be their bannerman? The outwardly liberal wackos of the "Don't mind the freezing weather, our globe is warming to dangerous extremes" camp led by Counselor Gore all pitched tents with Dean-o. The party's Clintonistas all seemed to align with Clark. Now both are finding themselves in the Kerry's photo-op soup line ready to take a ladleful of Boston crow chowder. Surely Republicans can exploit this, right? And by "right" I mean "duh?!?"
One last note. "Joementum" appears to be coming to a halt. He sadly bragged that he was in a "statistical tie" for third place following the NH primary. He lost 4th place by 7,000 votes. Note: "Statiscal ties" apply only to polls taken prior to actual elections where audiences are sampled from the larger pool. There is no larger pool in NH, Sen. Lieberman. You lost. It's over. Go home. I'll respect you more for it. < homer >Joh!< /homer >
Is the taste of desperation as bitter and gagging as it appears?

BTW, did anyone else catch the Daily Show interview Dean did with John Stewart? Give the good doc his due...he earned points for those of us who respect self deprecation over self aggrandization (unlike Kerry).

In a bold move orchestrated by his new campaign manager, Dean challenges someone from the crowd at today's rally to come and "pull his finger" for a sound byte planned to take attention off of last week's "YEAARRGH" fiasco.
One more question....It's becoming fairly evident that the Mass. senator is Kerry-ing on toward a likely victory. How is this going to play out that the one guy that nobody endorsed at first is going to be their bannerman? The outwardly liberal wackos of the "Don't mind the freezing weather, our globe is warming to dangerous extremes" camp led by Counselor Gore all pitched tents with Dean-o. The party's Clintonistas all seemed to align with Clark. Now both are finding themselves in the Kerry's photo-op soup line ready to take a ladleful of Boston crow chowder. Surely Republicans can exploit this, right? And by "right" I mean "duh?!?"
One last note. "Joementum" appears to be coming to a halt. He sadly bragged that he was in a "statistical tie" for third place following the NH primary. He lost 4th place by 7,000 votes. Note: "Statiscal ties" apply only to polls taken prior to actual elections where audiences are sampled from the larger pool. There is no larger pool in NH, Sen. Lieberman. You lost. It's over. Go home. I'll respect you more for it. < homer >Joh!< /homer >
baptizing the ferris wheel
The second Christian Carnival is fresh off the e-press. Take a few and read a few.
call me captain narcolepsy
I am blogging from my 7th floor room at the Renaissance Hotel in Orlando, Florida, the place where, as Cotter told Kelsi every time we mentioned this trip, "the geese live in the winter." At least I think he said "geese," and not some derogatory slur for the geriatics snowbirds.
My flight was wonderful. I describe any flight as wonderful if I'm able to fall asleep shortly before take off and not wake up until the attendant is telling me to lock my chair in the upright position, and wipe the drool from my chin, by the way.
We spent the day setting up. Tomorrow is a day filled with conferences, interrupted by periodic editing for a looming deadline. Who knew the life of an editor could be so.....exciting?!?
My flight was wonderful. I describe any flight as wonderful if I'm able to fall asleep shortly before take off and not wake up until the attendant is telling me to lock my chair in the upright position, and wipe the drool from my chin, by the way.
We spent the day setting up. Tomorrow is a day filled with conferences, interrupted by periodic editing for a looming deadline. Who knew the life of an editor could be so.....exciting?!?
mapquest
says the same thing as before, only differently.

create your own visited states map
or check out these Google Hacks.
Thanks Jen...who I think owes Arkansas a bit of an explanation.
create your own visited states map
or check out these Google Hacks.
Thanks Jen...who I think owes Arkansas a bit of an explanation.
blogger idol 2
The main difference between Blogger Idol and American Idol is that Blogger Idol doesn't yet offer the first three days of really bad offerings. No blog equivalents to "Hung," "Scat Lady" or that freaky dude from last year who gave me nightmares with his Madonna interpretation.
Y'all have been very nice to me in my efforts to communicate thematic interpretations, and your compliments are very encouraging to me and I appreciate it.
I've yet to read all the offerings on Freedom, but I really liked the succinct presentation of Superblessed. Unfortunately, there is no permalink, but it's easy enough to find.
Blog on!
Y'all have been very nice to me in my efforts to communicate thematic interpretations, and your compliments are very encouraging to me and I appreciate it.
I've yet to read all the offerings on Freedom, but I really liked the succinct presentation of Superblessed. Unfortunately, there is no permalink, but it's easy enough to find.
Blog on!
1/27/2004
kerry on my wayward son
So "the Ketchup Kid" won again.
Wow...that's really interessssssssssssssssssssszzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Wow...that's really interessssssssssssssssssssszzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
i want tuna i want liver meow mix meow mix please deliver
Okay, the proverbial cat is out of the proverbial bag...
....here kitty kitty kitty....
I'm soon making the leap off Blogspot. Christopher, who has already earned top-line perpetual permalink gratuities for his efforts, is assisting me in the transition.
I need your opinion on an essential matter, and to get your informed opinion, you need information.
I'm relocating the blog to a my own domain which, drumroll please, is....www.twosents.net. The blog will be the "official" communication of a new ministry development by the same name which focuses on discipleship and communication. It is based on the addage of "giving your two cents," my own slogan of "giving away spare change of common sense," and most important, the Scriptural encouragement of John 20:21 where Jesus said, "As the Father sent Me, so I send you." It will embrace the concepts of evangelism, discipleship, fellowship, ministry, and worship with an emphasis on mentoring, relationship-building, transparency, servanthood, and churchmanship.
So, with that in mind, I'm facing a decision to make, and I'd appreciate your input and wisdom in helping me to do so.
The question is thus: Do I keep the blog's name Clarity Amidst Chaos, or do I change it to something else? Other Options So Far:
Two Sents.Net
Two Sents Worth
Two Sents More
Spare Change
Two-Penny Thoughts
Heads or Tails
Call it in the Air
Flip for It
Please, give me your two cents in the comments...And if you have something better, don't be miserly...share it with me.
Thanks!
Oh, and while the cat has left the pillowcase, there are still a couple of lingering furballs tucked away...keep watching for further announcements in the near future!
....here kitty kitty kitty....
I'm soon making the leap off Blogspot. Christopher, who has already earned top-line perpetual permalink gratuities for his efforts, is assisting me in the transition.
I need your opinion on an essential matter, and to get your informed opinion, you need information.
I'm relocating the blog to a my own domain which, drumroll please, is....www.twosents.net. The blog will be the "official" communication of a new ministry development by the same name which focuses on discipleship and communication. It is based on the addage of "giving your two cents," my own slogan of "giving away spare change of common sense," and most important, the Scriptural encouragement of John 20:21 where Jesus said, "As the Father sent Me, so I send you." It will embrace the concepts of evangelism, discipleship, fellowship, ministry, and worship with an emphasis on mentoring, relationship-building, transparency, servanthood, and churchmanship.
So, with that in mind, I'm facing a decision to make, and I'd appreciate your input and wisdom in helping me to do so.
The question is thus: Do I keep the blog's name Clarity Amidst Chaos, or do I change it to something else? Other Options So Far:
Two Sents.Net
Two Sents Worth
Two Sents More
Spare Change
Two-Penny Thoughts
Heads or Tails
Call it in the Air
Flip for It
Please, give me your two cents in the comments...And if you have something better, don't be miserly...share it with me.
Thanks!
Oh, and while the cat has left the pillowcase, there are still a couple of lingering furballs tucked away...keep watching for further announcements in the near future!
1/26/2004
you may take our lives, but you'll never take our...
FREEEDOM!
***
As the children and I waited for Kelli to bridge the horizon that was the airport escalator leading up to baggage claim, I felt a bit like William Wallace restraining his spear-bearing men as England's calvary came bearing upon them....
holllld....
hhooollllld...
hhoOoOOOOlllD......
HHOOOOLLLD.....
Then Kelli's beautiful, smiling face appeared.
NOW!
My three small children broke across the "Do not pass" line and lunged at Kelli like her they were miniature Scottish warriors and her legs were twin Englishmen, soon to be subdued by vice-like hugs of love and longing. The mass of travellers standing between them and Kelli didn't stand a chance.
By allowing them to charge, I had dropped the invisible barrier keeping them from accomplishing the only thing that mattered to them. They, like Wallace's marauders, were free to pursue the desires of their heart to fulfill the very purpose for which they were created. Wallace's army's purpose was to radically and violently express their love for their country. My children's only purpose was to radically and joyfully express the love they had been holding a week to the one who loved them first.
You could almost hear the bagpipes playing over the airport PA system.
Oh, that we would learn from children.
Ask one hundred people what freedom means, and ninety-nine of them will tell you something that looks like, sounds like, or maybe even feels like freedom, but really isn't. And if there is anything that has mastered the ability to deceive the "duck test," it's the wolf of carnal bondage wearing the lambskin of freedom.
Contrary to popular opinion, freedom isn't being unfettered from responsibility. It isn't release from consequence or accountability. It isn't entitlement, license, or absolution. People all over show their total incomprehension of freedom by their perpetual abuse of it, as well as for settling for a myriad of experiences and states-of-being that are freedom-ish, but in and of themselves not genuine freedom.
I submit that one will never...ever...experience freedom until and unless they have been unshackled from that which holds them in bondage expressly so that they may be free to pursue the very reason they were created. If the person who has been unshackled instead chases a different quarry, they unfortunately will capture only another oppressor, another enslaver.
So to understand freedom, one must understand why he has been created. If I mistakenly believe that I was created to enjoy the sensuous pleasures of life, I will pursue them. Subsequently, I will be enslaved by that which I think makes me free, causing me to a prison of sensous torture. If I believe I was created to fulfill the consuming appetite of vanity, then I will be shackled poolside, wasting away my life gazing in Narcissisine puddles that appear much deeper than they actually be. As a humble fool once said, "I gave my heart to know knowledge and madness and folly. I now perceive that I was grasping at the wind."
Freedom is not defined simply by what you have been freed from, but also what you have been freed for. And just like my own children, I have been created to love the one who loved me first. If (and when) If I chase my loving Creator, only then am I free. If I chase any other purpose in life, then no matter how free I may feel, I'm really living under bondage.
Here's the fun...and funky...part of being set free by loving your Creator. We experience and express this freedom by...you gotta be kidding me...being in bondage to Him. The only way to experience true freedom, is by doing what the Creator has called you to do, exactly as He called you to do it, for as long as He called you to do it.
And nothing else.
Now we're beginning to see a paradox isn't a set of MD twins, no?
Compounding the simplicity of it all is that you do not earn God's love by what you do, you are empowered, enabled, equipped to do God's will because of His love. You do not "do" because of who you hope to be, you "do" because of who He promised that you already are. "Doing" is the expression of your freedom. By refusing to "do" as freedom's manifestation, you demonstrate only an ongoing bondage of self-incarceration.
Do not fear, the yoke of the Master is light. Much lighter, in fact, than the one from which you have previously been freed.
Man's joy is complete only when he is free to accomplish that for which he was created. Man is only free when he is worshipping God with every breath, every thought, every step, every deed of his life.
this entry has been a contribution to livingroom's blogger idol project. click here for the other fine entries.
***
As the children and I waited for Kelli to bridge the horizon that was the airport escalator leading up to baggage claim, I felt a bit like William Wallace restraining his spear-bearing men as England's calvary came bearing upon them....
holllld....
hhooollllld...
hhoOoOOOOlllD......
HHOOOOLLLD.....
Then Kelli's beautiful, smiling face appeared.
NOW!
My three small children broke across the "Do not pass" line and lunged at Kelli like her they were miniature Scottish warriors and her legs were twin Englishmen, soon to be subdued by vice-like hugs of love and longing. The mass of travellers standing between them and Kelli didn't stand a chance.
By allowing them to charge, I had dropped the invisible barrier keeping them from accomplishing the only thing that mattered to them. They, like Wallace's marauders, were free to pursue the desires of their heart to fulfill the very purpose for which they were created. Wallace's army's purpose was to radically and violently express their love for their country. My children's only purpose was to radically and joyfully express the love they had been holding a week to the one who loved them first.
You could almost hear the bagpipes playing over the airport PA system.
Oh, that we would learn from children.
Ask one hundred people what freedom means, and ninety-nine of them will tell you something that looks like, sounds like, or maybe even feels like freedom, but really isn't. And if there is anything that has mastered the ability to deceive the "duck test," it's the wolf of carnal bondage wearing the lambskin of freedom.
Contrary to popular opinion, freedom isn't being unfettered from responsibility. It isn't release from consequence or accountability. It isn't entitlement, license, or absolution. People all over show their total incomprehension of freedom by their perpetual abuse of it, as well as for settling for a myriad of experiences and states-of-being that are freedom-ish, but in and of themselves not genuine freedom.
I submit that one will never...ever...experience freedom until and unless they have been unshackled from that which holds them in bondage expressly so that they may be free to pursue the very reason they were created. If the person who has been unshackled instead chases a different quarry, they unfortunately will capture only another oppressor, another enslaver.
So to understand freedom, one must understand why he has been created. If I mistakenly believe that I was created to enjoy the sensuous pleasures of life, I will pursue them. Subsequently, I will be enslaved by that which I think makes me free, causing me to a prison of sensous torture. If I believe I was created to fulfill the consuming appetite of vanity, then I will be shackled poolside, wasting away my life gazing in Narcissisine puddles that appear much deeper than they actually be. As a humble fool once said, "I gave my heart to know knowledge and madness and folly. I now perceive that I was grasping at the wind."
Freedom is not defined simply by what you have been freed from, but also what you have been freed for. And just like my own children, I have been created to love the one who loved me first. If (and when) If I chase my loving Creator, only then am I free. If I chase any other purpose in life, then no matter how free I may feel, I'm really living under bondage.
Here's the fun...and funky...part of being set free by loving your Creator. We experience and express this freedom by...you gotta be kidding me...being in bondage to Him. The only way to experience true freedom, is by doing what the Creator has called you to do, exactly as He called you to do it, for as long as He called you to do it.
And nothing else.
Now we're beginning to see a paradox isn't a set of MD twins, no?
Compounding the simplicity of it all is that you do not earn God's love by what you do, you are empowered, enabled, equipped to do God's will because of His love. You do not "do" because of who you hope to be, you "do" because of who He promised that you already are. "Doing" is the expression of your freedom. By refusing to "do" as freedom's manifestation, you demonstrate only an ongoing bondage of self-incarceration.
Do not fear, the yoke of the Master is light. Much lighter, in fact, than the one from which you have previously been freed.
Man's joy is complete only when he is free to accomplish that for which he was created. Man is only free when he is worshipping God with every breath, every thought, every step, every deed of his life.
this entry has been a contribution to livingroom's blogger idol project. click here for the other fine entries.
bit in the tail
ooh...Miller did chip in at the end with a Porky Porcine "Thats-All-Folks"-type minirantita opining about abandoning the space program. Alas, as soon as I blinked, it was over.
Regardless of whether or not you agree with the position, the palate-cleansing of acidity left me only feeling like it was much too little, much too late.
Regardless of whether or not you agree with the position, the palate-cleansing of acidity left me only feeling like it was much too little, much too late.
i can't taste my light beer!
The very placid introduction of Dennis Miller on tonight's CNBC reminded me of the currently-running ad campaign by the beer company that shares his name. All the things that you may have loved about either product are suddenly nowhere to be found.*
He started off his program and basically said, "Hello. Remember me as the smart aleck with the sharp wit and sharper tongue? Well, forget about that because I'm here to listen."
Okaaaayy Stuart Smalley, you lost me at "hello."
And then he introduced Arnold Guhvahnatah, and quickly put me to sleep with a Paxil-sponsored conversation about Maria's domestic agenda.
My own lovely bride wiped the snooze drool from my slackened jaw, gently shook me awake, and turned the channel.
There's a decent chance I'll stop by again on another night, but only if when I get there, I hear the smarmy acerbic tone that I've grown to appreciate. A docile Dennis is as appealing to me as, say, a tall glass of warmed-over Miller Lite.
I've got my downstairs TV tuned back in to channel 47, but only because the rerun to The Apprentice is on deck. And the three most wonderful words are promised to be spoken by Trump:
"Sam, you're fired."
*This statement is not to be construed as an admission or endorsement of drinking Miller Lite Beer.
He started off his program and basically said, "Hello. Remember me as the smart aleck with the sharp wit and sharper tongue? Well, forget about that because I'm here to listen."
Okaaaayy Stuart Smalley, you lost me at "hello."
And then he introduced Arnold Guhvahnatah, and quickly put me to sleep with a Paxil-sponsored conversation about Maria's domestic agenda.
My own lovely bride wiped the snooze drool from my slackened jaw, gently shook me awake, and turned the channel.
There's a decent chance I'll stop by again on another night, but only if when I get there, I hear the smarmy acerbic tone that I've grown to appreciate. A docile Dennis is as appealing to me as, say, a tall glass of warmed-over Miller Lite.
I've got my downstairs TV tuned back in to channel 47, but only because the rerun to The Apprentice is on deck. And the three most wonderful words are promised to be spoken by Trump:
"Sam, you're fired."
*This statement is not to be construed as an admission or endorsement of drinking Miller Lite Beer.
beautiful
Kelsi, five weeks shy of her second year, is enjoying a thrilling few moments waving around a lighted flashlight, and gleefully shrieking, as she point to the cast light upon the wall, the ceiling, my face:
LOOK DADDY, LOOK! LIGHT!
I take so many little things for granted.
LOOK DADDY, LOOK! LIGHT!
I take so many little things for granted.
fightin' the system like one of two modern day robin hoods

You are Luke Duke. You are sensible and charming.
You rarely get to drive, but you are okay with
that. You are hard-working and honest.
What Dukes of Hazzard Character are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
I'm okay with this, other than the fact that I drive.
Always.
Thanks to TruePravda
as a matter of fact, i am interested
i've added Interested-Participant to the blogroll.
And, as always, if you have added me to yours, please let me know. I'd certainly appreciate the opportunity to reciprocate.
And, as always, if you have added me to yours, please let me know. I'd certainly appreciate the opportunity to reciprocate.
prayer request
Please remember Bob Miller in prayer today, for testing regarding his impending heart transplant.
muchos gracias.
muchos gracias.
more passion
Kyle, my local source for anything related to The Passion of the Christ, supplied me with this:
what will happen
Around this time of year, I like to spread a little Valenine joy and sentiment by filling my community candy jar with conversation hearts. I just had this conversation with Ovie, boss3's secretary:
Me: (taking a few from the jar for my own consumption) People better hurry up and eat these...they have a shelf life
She: They go bad?
Me: Well, they don't go bad, but they get...
She: Soft?
Me: No...actually...they turn rock hard.
She: Really, I thought they got mushy...
Me: Well, they get hard in Colorado....but it's so dry there it must draw out the moisture.
She: I think they get softer and softer here.
So....are conversation hearts affected differently according to the varying relative atmospheric barometric pressure and humidity? I need to know...for the sake of the hearts.
Me: (taking a few from the jar for my own consumption) People better hurry up and eat these...they have a shelf life
She: They go bad?
Me: Well, they don't go bad, but they get...
She: Soft?
Me: No...actually...they turn rock hard.
She: Really, I thought they got mushy...
Me: Well, they get hard in Colorado....but it's so dry there it must draw out the moisture.
She: I think they get softer and softer here.
So....are conversation hearts affected differently according to the varying relative atmospheric barometric pressure and humidity? I need to know...for the sake of the hearts.
hope, prayer, and legislation for the preborn
Lee has a good post on new legislation being presented in South Dakota, and to wrap it up, as good of a prophetic statement as I've seen in a while.
movie lit 101
I watched The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen this past week. It was a mediocre movie, with a predictable, hackneyed plot. The most interesting elements of the story, intentionally, were the characters, although it grew tiresome watching Tom Sawyer say, "Did you see that?!!?" Mina Harker was compellingly portrayed, and I enjoyed being reintroduced to Dorian Gray, who I first met in Senior English (high school), but failed to appreciate, amidst the other important events of my life back then.
I thought the portrayal of the Rodney, an invisible man (and not Hawley Griffen the invisible man, was pretty flimsy (not sociopathic enough, as embodied by K. Bacon in his modern-day cinematic interpretation), and Jeckyll/Hyde was cartoonish/buffoonish. And I would like to have seen Allan Quartermain be a little more unbalanced (opium freak) but doubt 007 would have portrayed him if the hero had been written in such a manner in the screenplay. Oh, and lest I forget, I was finding Nemo to be a well-portrayed well-intentioned miscreant, although the PC homage to his pagan worship was a bit boorish.
I like this genre that takes a new take on an established character (or even historical event) and says "what if." Now, my only "what if" is "what if the movie had been done better?"
on a related note:
>
>Which Extraordinary Gentleman are you?
I thought the portrayal of the Rodney, an invisible man (and not Hawley Griffen the invisible man, was pretty flimsy (not sociopathic enough, as embodied by K. Bacon in his modern-day cinematic interpretation), and Jeckyll/Hyde was cartoonish/buffoonish. And I would like to have seen Allan Quartermain be a little more unbalanced (opium freak) but doubt 007 would have portrayed him if the hero had been written in such a manner in the screenplay. Oh, and lest I forget, I was finding Nemo to be a well-portrayed well-intentioned miscreant, although the PC homage to his pagan worship was a bit boorish.
I like this genre that takes a new take on an established character (or even historical event) and says "what if." Now, my only "what if" is "what if the movie had been done better?"
on a related note:

>Which Extraordinary Gentleman are you?
a passion-ate email
latest grass-roots buzz on Gibson's flick (slightly edited to remove irrelevant details, contains "spoiler" details, if you consider Jesus getting nailed to the cross a spoiler. If that is a spoiler, then read the book of John before you go see the movie, for cryin' out loud):
sung to the tune of looks like we made it
Last night, amidst the revelry of ROTK*, we saw that the day's precipitation would likely turn to freezing rain. I awoke to the news reports of North Georgia's schools shutting down, including Kaylyn's. I then called our work number to see if our office was shut down...
"You have reached the inclement weather line....if we had shut down the office, this is where you would've heard about it, so in other words, you better be on your way to work."
So, I dressed warm and mentally prepared for an arduous 22-mile excursion.
There was ice on the trees, but the roads were great. I made it 70 mph all the way to within two exits. Then there was a back-log at 11, so I I-turned over the median and went back to 12, where I took alternate route (b), which leads to alternate route (a), which got me to the office at 32 minutes after I left home.
Toaday, barely half the lot is full. And my estimation of half my colleagues has dropped a bit, as I look at their closed office doors and think....
....wimps.
*Return of the Kelli
"You have reached the inclement weather line....if we had shut down the office, this is where you would've heard about it, so in other words, you better be on your way to work."
So, I dressed warm and mentally prepared for an arduous 22-mile excursion.
There was ice on the trees, but the roads were great. I made it 70 mph all the way to within two exits. Then there was a back-log at 11, so I I-turned over the median and went back to 12, where I took alternate route (b), which leads to alternate route (a), which got me to the office at 32 minutes after I left home.
Toaday, barely half the lot is full. And my estimation of half my colleagues has dropped a bit, as I look at their closed office doors and think....
....wimps.
*Return of the Kelli
1/25/2004
vh1-derful
I've added the Best Week Ever blog to the blogroll, in order to feed the insatiable beast which craves only pop culture in daily-dispensed morsels.
And I was compelled and engaged by last night's airing of Reuniting the Band: Franky Goes to Hollywood. It was interesting to see how these Londoners had matured in the 17 years since their "band" had broken up. And I had the pleasure/torture of listening to 243 snippets/video clips of Relax in the course of the hour.
I don't know that I'll necessarily set my agenda around future episodes (featuring Kajagoogoo) or re-airing of other already-shown episodes (Klymaxx and A Flock of Seagulls), but I'd likely watch it (and not like it will be difficult, since VH1 appears to be airing these episodes every other hour of the day for the next two months) if passing through and I hear playing on the TV speakers:*
a) And I raaa-uh-aan, I ran so far awaaa-uh-ay.
I just raaa-uh-aan, I ran all night and daaaa-uh-ay.
Icoodn'tgettaway.
b)Too shy-shy
Hushhush, eyetoeye
Too shy-shy
Hushhush, eyetoeye
Too shy-shy
Hushhush, eyetoeye
Too shy-shy
Hush huuuuuussssshhhhh
c) I miiiIIIIiiIiIIiiiss you
There`s no other way to say it
And I, and I can't deny it
I miiiIIIIiiIiIIiiiss you
It`s so easy to see
I didn't know any of them back then, I never bought their albums. But I knew the songs and danced to each using a limited variation of the Northwestern Colorado White Guy Groove Shuffle at various public dances offered at Craig's Old Armory, the Cassidy Salloon (can you believe they used to open it up to kids, and our parents let us go?!?), and of course, the high school. With a bond like that, one just has to tune in and see how the respective "artists" are doing, years after that fickle wench named Fame kicked them to the curb for Vanilla Ice and Kriss Kross, and EMF.
*note: Lyrical masterpieces all, no doubt, but these choruses are pretty much all I know of the songs. One episode of hearing these choruses over and over and over and over satisfies individual curiosity of the band for a period of 10-20 additional years.
And I was compelled and engaged by last night's airing of Reuniting the Band: Franky Goes to Hollywood. It was interesting to see how these Londoners had matured in the 17 years since their "band" had broken up. And I had the pleasure/torture of listening to 243 snippets/video clips of Relax in the course of the hour.
I don't know that I'll necessarily set my agenda around future episodes (featuring Kajagoogoo) or re-airing of other already-shown episodes (Klymaxx and A Flock of Seagulls), but I'd likely watch it (and not like it will be difficult, since VH1 appears to be airing these episodes every other hour of the day for the next two months) if passing through and I hear playing on the TV speakers:*
a) And I raaa-uh-aan, I ran so far awaaa-uh-ay.
I just raaa-uh-aan, I ran all night and daaaa-uh-ay.
Icoodn'tgettaway.
b)Too shy-shy
Hushhush, eyetoeye
Too shy-shy
Hushhush, eyetoeye
Too shy-shy
Hushhush, eyetoeye
Too shy-shy
Hush huuuuuussssshhhhh
c) I miiiIIIIiiIiIIiiiss you
There`s no other way to say it
And I, and I can't deny it
I miiiIIIIiiIiIIiiiss you
It`s so easy to see
I didn't know any of them back then, I never bought their albums. But I knew the songs and danced to each using a limited variation of the Northwestern Colorado White Guy Groove Shuffle at various public dances offered at Craig's Old Armory, the Cassidy Salloon (can you believe they used to open it up to kids, and our parents let us go?!?), and of course, the high school. With a bond like that, one just has to tune in and see how the respective "artists" are doing, years after that fickle wench named Fame kicked them to the curb for Vanilla Ice and Kriss Kross, and EMF.
*note: Lyrical masterpieces all, no doubt, but these choruses are pretty much all I know of the songs. One episode of hearing these choruses over and over and over and over satisfies individual curiosity of the band for a period of 10-20 additional years.
Blogger Idol week 2
The theme is Freedom.
hmmm....I'm going to need a little time to develop my strategery on this one. Two participants have already exercised theirs' to contribute.
hmmm....I'm going to need a little time to develop my strategery on this one. Two participants have already exercised theirs' to contribute.
sung to the tune of home sweet home
We go to Jackson-Hartfield or Hartsfield-Jackson or Hartson-Jackfield or whatever its called....to pick up my beloved.
We love her for who she is, we're thankful for what she does, and she's very much been missed.
We love her for who she is, we're thankful for what she does, and she's very much been missed.
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