Thoroughly Entertained

Options.

This world is full of options.  Everywhere people go they are told they have options. When bad news comes from the doctor, work is disatisfying, nothing looks appetizing in the cupboard or soap operas are playing reruns on TV, the first questions is often, "Well, what are my options?"

I was simply struck today by the options I am given for entertainment. I'm all about fresh air, running until my legs burn and buckle beneath me, swimming even if my form is all wrong, volunteering at children's centers, chatting with old friends on facebook, reading 5 Karen Kingsbury novels in 2 weeks, leaving uplifting comments on people's walls, calling home to my mom about seven times a week and burying myself in books even when I'm walking. So when I get on Netflix and see what my options are, I can't help but feel disappointed.

Violence doesn't bother me so much, although I don't see the point of it when I don't care for any violence in real life. But constantly inserting foul language and having a constant obsession with sex is absurd. I'm not shocked. I expect it from my culture. Being in that "in between adolescence and adulthood" stage, I see both sides to the entertainment game. Sure, flashy and dangerous movies are attractive and the minute they are in theatres many feel they must run to buy the first tickets. But then I see the loss of values, the absolute lack of realism, and the intense cheapness that I feel I share if I participate in this mindless entertainment. I watch it and my mind feels dull, and I can't produce clean inspiration when I feel deadened within.

Not that Blockbuster or Netflix have to come to a screeching halt because of my little opinions, little old me sitting on a lazyboy having a day off of school. But I know for myself that I have made the decision to not feed that younger part of me that says "Who cares? Who would know? It's what I want." I want to feed that part of me that doesn't need to travel the world, or shack up with the boy next door, or buy $300 scarves, or become a world-acclaimed journalist to be happy.

I want to feed that part of me that knows I live to glorify God and no one else. No matter what He wants me to do. Somehow, doing the things God wants for me never feels cheap; it never feels as though I'm getting old or wasting my life; I just feel alive and truly happy, as though I cannot wait for a new day even while today is the butter on my bread.

Four Goals met: Culture Overload, German beer, wii Golf, and a Honey Latte

Visiting the library is often uneventful; take the list of books you don't want to pay for out of your pocket, type the titles into the search engine, go in search of something like 'J8Z-390A-K-160B,' and then give up looking and find a completely different book. The joy of book browsing in the library--unlike Barnes of Nobles-- is that no book is witheld from the browser. At Barnes and Nobles, shoppers cannot be looking for a John Grisham book, stumble across a fantastic Mary Higgins Clark book and get both without a change in price.

The browsing tool that is even better than the library is obviously the internet. A more ingenious invention never made the average browser lazier.

This week I met a 2010 goal: "Google a different type of culture you've always wondered about; get a book out of the library about it."

Travel guides to Spain count. Thanks to the library, I can now read about a culture that has always mystified me and I can check out random attractions in cities and refresh my history from the perspective of a Spaniard; how the muslims invaded Spain, how Fernando and Isabela ruled as Catholic monarchs in Spain and how Spain lost a naval battle to England.

Studying history in highschool forces the student to think beyond their own country, but still the student sees history according to how it affects his or her land. Reviewing history from the perspective of another country expands the perspective even more. It causes one to think: What if I were Spanish? How would my life, my people, my country be different?

Another goal: "At least try to learn a language." Learning a language is a huge step towards communicating with a different culture. Since I am majoring and minoring in English and Spanish respectively, it was only fair that I try a different language. My mother had this random notion once that her children would learn German, so she bought a set of Pimsleur German-learning CD's. The dust that collected on that packet of CD's was incredible; years later I found them, dusted them off and played them. I've officially spit my way through 10 tracks of German speaking. So I'm not fluent; at least if I go to Germany some day, I can say, "Excuse me. I speak very little German. I am an American. Would you like something to eat? Me, too! Where? At my place. I would like to drink beer...or wine. Two beers, please. Thank you." That dialogue is pretty much the collection of all my knowledge from the German Pimsleur CD.

Another goal met: "Try something you always thought you hated: food, golf, piano, classic book/video, camping." Besides facebook, which some people like my mother are still discovering, the wii is a time-consumer like none other. Today, my brother convinced me to play golf--on the wii. By the second round, I owned a sport that has had me grimacing for years.

The most recent conquered goal: "Set Starbucks aside and try a different coffee place." I'll take two large honey lattes, thank you. On a whim, my mother took me to a coffee place I've been meaning to try--Alterra. I could have eaten the place up; it was so woodsy and filled with computers and their people. My mother quietly folded the receipt that rounded up to $8, trying to act as if the price did not bother her, and then sipped casually. "It's not very sweet," she commented, sucking the latte swiftly through a thick straw.  When we left there, I breathed deeply and exclaimed, "I loved that place!" My mother said, "It was nice. Seemed to attract the young, hip crowd, though." I looked at her and smirked, "Right. I love that place."

Psychological Noises: the good and the bad

Today, entertainment fills lives with one thing--psychological noise. Technology, music, busy schedules, and that which is fashionable are noises which consume the average mind from dawn to dusk. Clearing all noise from the head and taking time to think may sound old-fashioned but it is vital to thinking about the future, reflecting on the past, and mentally processing the present.

With excess mental noise, students and employees can hardly expect to process course work or job tasks properly.  People obsessed with constant noise-- watching TV, social networking, being busy, having music playing, and always searching for new fashionable things should consider taking a week-long fast from the devices that cause the most mental noise for them.

Taking a break from bad noise is like going on a diet. An obese person does not diet by starving himself; he replaces bad food with good food. Some types of noises can be good if they help stimulate brain acitivity.

So what are some good noises?

Making out a list of good types of noises is actually one good type of noise. Forcing the brain to think produces creativity.

Love Note: Denied

The only thing worse than bad poetry is bad love poetry. The following letter, from a boy who still brags that we dated, is completely golden and untampered.

Juliet
I heard this and changed and add to it
Some day when are live is done
And or course is almost gone
Then we can look back at the fun
That we had under the sun
And realize what imprints we made
In someone that need our making
In their lives and in there souls

That is just so beautiful . yea time to go send some for me.
Romeo

And then he spelled his name wrong.

What is Christmas really?

Belgium calls him le Père Noël and Brazil calls him Papai Noel, while America calls him Santa. Regardless, over two billion children all across the globe will wake up at different times on Christmas morning, each celebrating a Christmas laced with different versions of Father Christmas.

But what is Christmas really? Google or Bing this question and you may be amused-- or confused if you were actually looking for a decent answer. Links as numerous as the children in this world direct you to Christmas quotes of celebrities vowing that Santa Clause is real, famous novelists penning sappiness about hope and family and love, and pages of scripture printed in middle english language.

For some people, perhaps Christmas traditions hold the real meaning of Christmas. But for a person who grows up and doesn't feel like Christmas is special anymore, he or she no longer feels excitement purveying an odd Christmas tradition: a fully-wired tree that seems to grow shorter every year. For people who have pulled up roots more times than there are branches on the Christmas tree, there is truly no place that seems like home. Good food is not the answer either, since after two platefuls the average person feels genuinely near regurgitation and only continues to eat because food is still available. Presents are nice, but even those lose their sparkle as one grows older. No sweater stays new, no technology stays current, and no gift-card sits in the envelope forever. Additionally, it does not take long to figure out that Santa is at about five places in the mall at the same time on Christmas Eve, and while all of them are fat and jolly, none of them are real.

However, don't forget about the original Christmas story that seems even more impossible than a fat man squeezing down over two-billion chimneys on one night--the story of a virgin delivering a baby that would one day save the world from its sins. For children who grew up believing that fairy tales are real, the story of a little pauper king born in a manger may seem increasingly absurd as they grow older and may seem on the level with Cinderella getting her rags poofed into a ball-gown by an old woman with a wand. Nine reindeer? Three wisemen? What is the difference?

While Santa gives presents that meet the constantly changing demands of 2.2 billion children on one day a year, the baby Jesus gives one gift--eternal life-- that is offered year-round to children of all ages. Additionally, today's Santa never was a baby, never suffered from poverty, never had to respect his mother, and never offered to give up his own life to save another. Jesus, on the other hand, did all of those things, plus creating miracles for at least three years of his adult life. Santa's message? Pick something out at the mall, eat some good food, get a gift card, buy a new sweater. Jesus' message? I died for you so that you can have eternal life. As absurd as it may seem, I was born in a way that was humanly impossible, I suffered through a life in which I was constantly tested and expected to fail, and I died in agony for a world that didn't care.

Jesus' story is not one of joy until you hear the end of the story. Jesus was dead for three days and then God gave Him a new body. Jesus left his borrowed tomb and walked among his friends, probably startling them significantly. He promised that those who believed He is the Son of God and admitted they had sinned and deserved death would have eternal life -- a life in heaven instead of perpetual death in hell. Christmas obviously marks the day of his birth, the entry of a king into the physical world that brought great joy to thousands from times past to times present.

Miracles. Are these the things Christmas are made of? My family is growing up. All four of us kids are out of highschool, some of us married and some of us still in college. Already, life is so hard. My mom said that all she wants for Christmas is a miracle for each of her children: miracles necessary for dire situations of health, finances, and pregnancy.

Denial. I feel it seep through me like Peter's denial of Jesus, as though once the times are tough I no longer choose to believe in anything. But that's just it. Belief, hope, joy -- these are choices. The real Father Christmas is the one who sacrificed to give to children. And the real meaning of Christmas is that Jesus, the greatest gift, is a gift which equals other gifts in only one way: it can be accepted or rejected.