After watching Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog for the first time, I sat for several minutes, trying to absorb everything and saying things like "That was really weird.... I don't understand..." A few years and a couple re-watchings later, I can identify the parts that make it a story I love as well as one that leaves me unsatisfied. And I think that's the point.
It's about a man who, disillusioned with the appearance of "good" in the world, has decided the best way to fix things is to become an evil genius. The problem is that he's got too much good inside of him. He falls in love with a girl who helps the homeless. He won't have an evil showdown with someone in a park, because there might be kids there (also, because Johnny Snow isn't actually his nemesis.) His real hatred is concentrated on the face of "good" that only masks a bully. By the end of the story, we're left wondering who's really the hero (if there is one), what constitutes good and evil, and whether people can actually do anything about it.
My favorite song in the show is called My Eyes/On the Rise. It shows the world through the viewpoints of Billy, also known as Dr. Horrible, and Penny, the girl of his dreams. To him, everything is crashing to the ground. To her, it looks like the world might finally be changing for the better. Neither of them are right.
What am I getting at? The story is meant to leave people hanging. There's not a happy ending, though you could say that Dr. Horrible got everything he wanted. I think the point at which the story turns for me, where a lot of the conflict lives, is in that song. Some people see good everywhere. Some people see evil everywhere. But people accomplishing both good and evil live alongside each other. Sometimes they're mistaken about which side they're actually serving, maybe because they don't fully understand the world.
There are so many viewpoints and so many arguments that some call what is good, evil, and what is evil, good, and can get away with it. Perceptions of truth are so warped that people can't see what's actually happening. They're blinded by ambition, or a mission, or even love.
Dr. Horrible, in a humorous way, calls attention to some of these things. There's not an intended Christian message, but I think the story can give Christians a lot to think about. We believe in good and truth. Why can't others see it around them? It's a broken world. Lots of evil has been done trying to fix it. What can we do about it? Since we claim to serve good, let's do good. Let's give reason for hope. And let's stick close to truth, or we may find ourselves pursuing something lesser.
Sunday, February 24, 2013
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Two Voices
Most people know me to be a cheerful and whimsical person. I'm the kind of girl who gets a Happy Meal at McDonald's and plays with the Hello Kitty toy. I sometimes skip instead of walking. I splash in puddles, crunch leaves, and generally enjoy the small things in life.
However, some few know the other side of me -- the one that's analytical and critical. This can be useful, and it's often how I approach problem solving and try to improve myself. The problem is that it has a tendency to manifest in the form of complaints and judgments. Projecting both voices onto my surroundings can leave me stuck between convictions. I'm still trying to decide if the exercise is useful.
Turning these voices loose on Taylor University results in conversations/impressions like this:
All the wonderful people everywhere!
Those couple of people that set off the "rage" trigger in my brain, maybe because they're contrasted against all the wonderful people.
So many ways to get involved in the community, resulting in fun and meaningful service!
Many possibilities for getting bogged down with responsibilities and others' expectations. Can you really give yourself to everything?
Late night conversations and movies with friends.
Time you really should spend doing something useful with your life. Like, weren't you supposed to be finishing your story?
A tight-knit community with potential for wonderful relationships.
A place where some still find judgement and nowhere to turn.
There are so many ways to learn about God and find growth.
But are you depending on your surroundings to grow your spiritual life?
I love learning!
You're not going to be in a classroom the rest of your life, at least not literally. Try harder.
There's so much beauty everywhere.
Are you appreciating it, or cultivating it?
Though at the outset the first voice seems largely superior (or at least happier), it gives many observations that aren't inherently useful. It needs to be tempered by the second voice. The thing I want to keep in mind is that the two voices don't have to be in opposition. They can work together. And when they actually do, I accomplish the things I consider most worthy. When they don't, I feel like I'm chipping at some stone block that refuses to be shaped.
Lately, I've been spending lots of time trading in granite dust. I think it's time to get down to the actual sculpture. I love Taylor, though I can see many cons among the pros. All I can do is try to make something beautiful, anyway.
However, some few know the other side of me -- the one that's analytical and critical. This can be useful, and it's often how I approach problem solving and try to improve myself. The problem is that it has a tendency to manifest in the form of complaints and judgments. Projecting both voices onto my surroundings can leave me stuck between convictions. I'm still trying to decide if the exercise is useful.
Turning these voices loose on Taylor University results in conversations/impressions like this:
All the wonderful people everywhere!
Those couple of people that set off the "rage" trigger in my brain, maybe because they're contrasted against all the wonderful people.
So many ways to get involved in the community, resulting in fun and meaningful service!
Many possibilities for getting bogged down with responsibilities and others' expectations. Can you really give yourself to everything?
Late night conversations and movies with friends.
Time you really should spend doing something useful with your life. Like, weren't you supposed to be finishing your story?
A tight-knit community with potential for wonderful relationships.
A place where some still find judgement and nowhere to turn.
There are so many ways to learn about God and find growth.
But are you depending on your surroundings to grow your spiritual life?
I love learning!
You're not going to be in a classroom the rest of your life, at least not literally. Try harder.
There's so much beauty everywhere.
Are you appreciating it, or cultivating it?
Though at the outset the first voice seems largely superior (or at least happier), it gives many observations that aren't inherently useful. It needs to be tempered by the second voice. The thing I want to keep in mind is that the two voices don't have to be in opposition. They can work together. And when they actually do, I accomplish the things I consider most worthy. When they don't, I feel like I'm chipping at some stone block that refuses to be shaped.
Lately, I've been spending lots of time trading in granite dust. I think it's time to get down to the actual sculpture. I love Taylor, though I can see many cons among the pros. All I can do is try to make something beautiful, anyway.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Deadlines, Commitments, Black Holes, and Superpowers
In the last week, I've had the dawning realization that I will not make the deadline for my novel.
Pretty much what I have left is to write four-ish chapters, fix some local plot problems, go over nine or ten chapters with minor revising, and polish, putting small threads in place. I've received feedback from some fellow writers that looks very helpful, but I haven't had time to put it into action.
However, I only have five days. And on each of those days, I'll be spending almost my entire evening in the theater. Taylor University's production of Godspell opens on my birthday, my deadline date, and there were enough holes to fill in voluntary positions that I felt I needed to help. I may be able to write during the day, but with homework, classes, work, and a laptop that can't move from my desk (it's a long story), I'm not going to have the time I need to get it done, despite the deadline rush. I haven't even had time to research and pick an editor at Tor.
I'm bummed, yes. Part of me says I could have spent more time on it before, could have pushed harder. I certainly could have. But when I push too hard with my writing, I burn out. I know because I did. Other time problems were due to circumstances out of my control. Whether or not I could be in better shape right now, there's not much I can do. Maybe I'll find the gumption within me and the time around me to pull this off, after all. I'm just not pinning my hopes on it.
I've been thinking about commitments and responsibility a lot lately. I have a hard time saying no when people need help getting things done, no matter if it's something I really want to do or not. Most of the time in the theater, I do want to help. Working with props (and other technical aspects) in the theater satisfies my need for creative projects, contributions to a larger goal, not to mention my love for the plays themselves. I like the interaction with other departments. I like the steady progress.
However, it's hard to deny that theater can be a soul-consuming, time-sucking black hole.
Combined with the regular aspects of life -- friends, spiritual development, my position of authority in my dorm, the aforementioned classes and ensuing homework, and a currently unsatisfied need for PEACE and QUIET and TIME WITH GOD, I'm wondering what to do with all the things I want to do. (If only my superhero altar ego had the ability to manipulate time.) My community overflows with ways to get involved, volunteer, lead. Sometimes, my mind and heart have a hard time deciding which of those I should be doing -- even arguing that they're more important than some of the things I already do.
However, one of my superpowers is being a dedicated worker. There's a part of my mind looking at the week ahead, rolling up its sleeves, and deciding how much sleep I can do without. And more than that, I have a God for whom having superpowers is an understatement. He can use these deadlines, black holes, and commitments to accomplish his purposes. I just have to try to align mine with his.
Wish me luck -- or, since I'll be in the theater, a couple of broken legs.
Pretty much what I have left is to write four-ish chapters, fix some local plot problems, go over nine or ten chapters with minor revising, and polish, putting small threads in place. I've received feedback from some fellow writers that looks very helpful, but I haven't had time to put it into action.
However, I only have five days. And on each of those days, I'll be spending almost my entire evening in the theater. Taylor University's production of Godspell opens on my birthday, my deadline date, and there were enough holes to fill in voluntary positions that I felt I needed to help. I may be able to write during the day, but with homework, classes, work, and a laptop that can't move from my desk (it's a long story), I'm not going to have the time I need to get it done, despite the deadline rush. I haven't even had time to research and pick an editor at Tor.
I'm bummed, yes. Part of me says I could have spent more time on it before, could have pushed harder. I certainly could have. But when I push too hard with my writing, I burn out. I know because I did. Other time problems were due to circumstances out of my control. Whether or not I could be in better shape right now, there's not much I can do. Maybe I'll find the gumption within me and the time around me to pull this off, after all. I'm just not pinning my hopes on it.
I've been thinking about commitments and responsibility a lot lately. I have a hard time saying no when people need help getting things done, no matter if it's something I really want to do or not. Most of the time in the theater, I do want to help. Working with props (and other technical aspects) in the theater satisfies my need for creative projects, contributions to a larger goal, not to mention my love for the plays themselves. I like the interaction with other departments. I like the steady progress.
However, it's hard to deny that theater can be a soul-consuming, time-sucking black hole.
Combined with the regular aspects of life -- friends, spiritual development, my position of authority in my dorm, the aforementioned classes and ensuing homework, and a currently unsatisfied need for PEACE and QUIET and TIME WITH GOD, I'm wondering what to do with all the things I want to do. (If only my superhero altar ego had the ability to manipulate time.) My community overflows with ways to get involved, volunteer, lead. Sometimes, my mind and heart have a hard time deciding which of those I should be doing -- even arguing that they're more important than some of the things I already do.
However, one of my superpowers is being a dedicated worker. There's a part of my mind looking at the week ahead, rolling up its sleeves, and deciding how much sleep I can do without. And more than that, I have a God for whom having superpowers is an understatement. He can use these deadlines, black holes, and commitments to accomplish his purposes. I just have to try to align mine with his.
Wish me luck -- or, since I'll be in the theater, a couple of broken legs.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
Slow Development
I think lots of "ordinary" Christians secretly wish they had a really cool testimony. The stories where a person is brought from the brink of hell-breathed fiery destruction, or saved from danger and certain death, or given a new chance at life after a long, heart-wrenching struggle -- well, they stay with people. They inspire. They testify to the power of God.
Still, the rest of us really don't need to envy them.
When we really think about it, quiet testimonies like "I gave my heart to Jesus Christ when I was 12. I've been following him ever since," are a blessed, beautiful thing. In some ways they have as much power as miracles. In retrospect, you find many circumstances that were, in fact, miracles. I've realized that a lot lately about my life.
At very few points in my life did I notice a miracle in the works, big changes in my relationship with God. Most of the time, I couldn't see God slowly shaping my heart. (It's still a work in progress.) Only when looking back can I see how my slow growth is being made into its own unique story, complete with real angels, demons, and heroes, though at no point have I been close to dying. On the outside, no circumstance appears to be extraordinary. My path doesn't look like it's been fraught with pitfalls and snares. Now I know they're there, but I'm grateful that God's so far let me move at a slow pace on a relatively sheltered path. It's given me time to look back.
That low time in my life where I was slowly brought up? A miracle. The way I've been shaped by my surroundings? A blessing. The parts where I thought I was in control? Near brushes with disaster. There are lots of little stories about all the stops on my road. I think they'll slowly find their way here to the blog or find other outlets. They're missing the fire and brimstone, but the important element is still there: God's saving power.
At this rate, I'll be a perfect Christian about 500 years after I die. God bless us tortoises.
Still, the rest of us really don't need to envy them.
When we really think about it, quiet testimonies like "I gave my heart to Jesus Christ when I was 12. I've been following him ever since," are a blessed, beautiful thing. In some ways they have as much power as miracles. In retrospect, you find many circumstances that were, in fact, miracles. I've realized that a lot lately about my life.
At very few points in my life did I notice a miracle in the works, big changes in my relationship with God. Most of the time, I couldn't see God slowly shaping my heart. (It's still a work in progress.) Only when looking back can I see how my slow growth is being made into its own unique story, complete with real angels, demons, and heroes, though at no point have I been close to dying. On the outside, no circumstance appears to be extraordinary. My path doesn't look like it's been fraught with pitfalls and snares. Now I know they're there, but I'm grateful that God's so far let me move at a slow pace on a relatively sheltered path. It's given me time to look back.
That low time in my life where I was slowly brought up? A miracle. The way I've been shaped by my surroundings? A blessing. The parts where I thought I was in control? Near brushes with disaster. There are lots of little stories about all the stops on my road. I think they'll slowly find their way here to the blog or find other outlets. They're missing the fire and brimstone, but the important element is still there: God's saving power.
At this rate, I'll be a perfect Christian about 500 years after I die. God bless us tortoises.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Shifting Perspectives
Twice I've had the privilege of flying in a small, private airplane. In any mode of travel, I love to look out the window, and plane travel is no exception. I like the view much better at 5,000 feet than the higher altitude of a commercial jet. You can see cars driving on roads like tiny bugs and groups of windmills like white needles coming out of the ground. Golf courses are perfectly smooth and green, but look as if someone came along and scooped out a few spoonfuls for the sand traps. Over the Midwest, almost everything is flat. Fields and roads look like they were marked out with rulers. The only things that look natural are the rivers and groups of trees around them, and sometimes you can see how the water has shaped the landscape, leaving wrinkles in the otherwise even fabric of the earth.
Being removed from the surface changes your perspective in interesting ways. Rather than feeling the wind blow snow across the ground, you can see the strange patterns it makes settling into the fields. The haze of the horizon becomes a perfect circle you can see all around you. Suddenly, you become aware of how large the earth is, and how that enormous distance to the ground is just a thin layer of air and vapor. (How often do pilots have existential moments?)
Simple placement can change how you see things. This is imminently obvious, but the impact of physical space on our minds and emotions isn't always so.
Today, I moved back into my dorm room. I spent much of my last week at home sitting and pondering how weird it was that soon I'd be returning to different spaces and routines. After a month and a half of near-uninterrupted calm, the idea of going to classes and seeing brick buildings out of my window instead of trees and an empty cornfield was almost inconceivable. Now, everything feels normal. The sight of the road leading onto campus was practically more familiar than my kitchen.
I've moved several times, so I very quickly adjust to the idea of different places being "home." Taylor University is home. Lying on the couch with my cat on my stomach is home. Driving in the car with my boyfriend whilst talking about superheros is home. Still, each of those places can change how I see the world and myself.
When I think of the view at 5,000 feet, I wonder what it would be like to see my life like that all the time. Small things would fade away. Maybe I would be instantly granted a permanent serenity, an ability to transcend my surroundings. Or maybe I would just laugh at the existential moments and the dramatic wording that comes with them. If I try, maybe I can take the new perspective that comes with the shift in surroundings and unite with it a little more wisdom.
Hello, spring semester. I'm trying to see you with new eyes.
Being removed from the surface changes your perspective in interesting ways. Rather than feeling the wind blow snow across the ground, you can see the strange patterns it makes settling into the fields. The haze of the horizon becomes a perfect circle you can see all around you. Suddenly, you become aware of how large the earth is, and how that enormous distance to the ground is just a thin layer of air and vapor. (How often do pilots have existential moments?)
Simple placement can change how you see things. This is imminently obvious, but the impact of physical space on our minds and emotions isn't always so.
Today, I moved back into my dorm room. I spent much of my last week at home sitting and pondering how weird it was that soon I'd be returning to different spaces and routines. After a month and a half of near-uninterrupted calm, the idea of going to classes and seeing brick buildings out of my window instead of trees and an empty cornfield was almost inconceivable. Now, everything feels normal. The sight of the road leading onto campus was practically more familiar than my kitchen.
I've moved several times, so I very quickly adjust to the idea of different places being "home." Taylor University is home. Lying on the couch with my cat on my stomach is home. Driving in the car with my boyfriend whilst talking about superheros is home. Still, each of those places can change how I see the world and myself.
When I think of the view at 5,000 feet, I wonder what it would be like to see my life like that all the time. Small things would fade away. Maybe I would be instantly granted a permanent serenity, an ability to transcend my surroundings. Or maybe I would just laugh at the existential moments and the dramatic wording that comes with them. If I try, maybe I can take the new perspective that comes with the shift in surroundings and unite with it a little more wisdom.
Hello, spring semester. I'm trying to see you with new eyes.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Letter Writing Again
The best gift I received this Christmas was a journal full of letters written just for me. Almost nothing shows you care more than taking the time to write to somebody. It's a reminder that in another time and place, someone was thinking about you. This is why I write letters. This is also why when I don't write them for long periods of time, I feel like I'm missing something.
On a related topic, the Month of Letters is about to start again. I probably sent more letters last February than I did the rest of the year combined, but mailing something each day made me happy in a way that I've found hard to replicate.
It's an illustration of the principle that it is better to give than to receive. Receiving letters is great (in my dorm, I'm known to turn from an empty mailbox with an exclamation of "Nobody loves me!"), but it results in another kind of satisfaction that isn't exactly the same as that of sending one. In writing letters, you give a part of yourself. In that letter, you, as the writer, are frozen in that time and place forever. When someone receives it, it can read it in many times and places. To quote Mary Robinette Kowal, it is "both lasting and ephemeral."
If you're interested in writing or people at all, I'd recommend sending letters. They don't have to be long. They don't have to be especially eloquent. They just have to be. Need some tips for getting started?
- Be quirky! On the back of letters to my cousin Kara, I write poems about mail. (T. S. Eliot used to address his letters with poems.) Sometimes, I write quotes. Sometimes I like to draw on envelopes. What's life without a little whimsy?
- Who needs to buy envelopes, anyway? The poor college student must save money any way possible.
- Get to know the people in your post office. I once stopped in for directions to a pumpkin farm, and the lady behind the counter offered to take me there herself if I couldn't find a ride. I've met some really neat people employed by the postal service.
- Get sappy. Valentine's Day is in February, you know. See the second sentence of this blog post.
This is not a plea for the people who know me to send me stuff so I can feel loved. Rather, it's an encouragement for everyone to spread a little love around. I'm almost certain that you (yes, you) have family and friends who aren't near you at the moment. Go ahead and send them part of yourself. The impact will last much longer than it takes to write the letter.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Fighting Myself
This is the second year I've been home for J-term, and I hope it's the last. Not because I don't love being with my family or just being sacked out on the couch with my cat, but I miss Taylor. I know someday I'm going to graduate and go on to other things, but right now, I miss the environment. I miss trying to balance classes with theater and noveling and friends. I miss the challenge, going to chapel, and having random theological discussions. The truth is, I feel a lot more removed from God when I'm at home.
This is stupid. Nothing can separate us from the love of God, etc. My problem is I know this -- I've learned it and experienced it in many ways -- but I currently have a hard time "feeling" it. Spiritual dry spells aren't new to any Christian, and I can't say that this is a particular low point in my life. But it's frustrating.
I'm a very strongly emotional person. Because I can easily fall prey to feelings, I also have an exceptionally high regard for sincerity. (Lying to or manipulating people is one of the few things that can really make me unwilling to forgive.) I hate manufactured emotion, and I have a very hard time being cheerful when I'm not.
Is this a good thing because it makes me want to be sincere with God? I dunno. Is this a bad thing because I'm less willing to praise God when I don't feel like it? Almost certainly. I've heard this point argued a dozen times before. I believe emotions are useful and enhance our relationship with God, but things purely emotional are transient.
For now, I'm fighting myself. I guess it's just good to know that God always wins.
This is stupid. Nothing can separate us from the love of God, etc. My problem is I know this -- I've learned it and experienced it in many ways -- but I currently have a hard time "feeling" it. Spiritual dry spells aren't new to any Christian, and I can't say that this is a particular low point in my life. But it's frustrating.
I'm a very strongly emotional person. Because I can easily fall prey to feelings, I also have an exceptionally high regard for sincerity. (Lying to or manipulating people is one of the few things that can really make me unwilling to forgive.) I hate manufactured emotion, and I have a very hard time being cheerful when I'm not.
Is this a good thing because it makes me want to be sincere with God? I dunno. Is this a bad thing because I'm less willing to praise God when I don't feel like it? Almost certainly. I've heard this point argued a dozen times before. I believe emotions are useful and enhance our relationship with God, but things purely emotional are transient.
For now, I'm fighting myself. I guess it's just good to know that God always wins.
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