Abilene

Well I'm in Abilene ladies and gentlemen!!! Last night my dad and brothers and I made the drive up to Abilene. We have tickets to see the Dallas Cowboy Football game on Sunday evening. We left home and drove here, where we had Taco Bueno for dinner...mmmm...nostalgia. All in all it was a good trip. We stopped on the way at the Half-Price Bookstore in San Antonio on Huebner...my fav. one of all!!! Oh the joy of books!! I truly am the queen of dorks.

After we got here I discovered that my boy Casey was here for a wedding!! So, sometime around 9:30 last night he showed up and hung out till around 11:30...then he had to go to the Bachelor Party which was just a giant gaming fest. Mr. O'Brien described it best in the following statement: "A bachelor party without women of ill repute? This must be a Christian bachelor party..." Hehe.

We've had breakfast and now the brothers are still attempting to sleep off their 12 hour NBA LIve Marathon...but TOO BAD!! Melanie will be here in a few hours and that will in fact be VERY COOL!! I'm also planning on seeing Jessica and Michael before I leave, and maybe swinging by the good doctor's house :-)

All in all, this is one wicked cool trip!!

Everything Is Alright Now

Everything is alright now; it just is. My best friend came home last night, and I was so happy. He came over after my familia got home from my mom's birthday escapade [more on that later] and stayed until 2:00 am. I was over at his house tonight and got to see his brothers and his family too.

I first met Andrew in elementary school; I think we were nine or so. Actually he was nine and I was eight. We weren't exactly friends then although we recoginzed each other's existences on occassion, and every once in a while played Chinese jump rope together. But since we were 13/14 or so [respectively] we've been inseperable.

I know the time will come when we cannot both come home anymore...where we won't have this anymore. He already is out of school and has a job: he lives in Austin now and works for TMEA. So he doesn't really live here anymore and I guess, neither do I. And as we grow up we have to make the time to see each other outside of tradtional vacation time. But even though we only get to hang out for 4 or 5 days this break, when I knew he was home, I felt as if I had gotten everything I wanted for Christmas: I came home and found everything and everyone as they should be.

So Far...

Well let's see how much fun I have had since I posted last. Well sir...Wednesday night was a BLAST!! We had a party at church with Tamales and bunelos and beans and rice and other such very tasty things. MMMMMM....Mim was home from vet school so she and Shoshannah and I came over to my house and hung out. We taught Shash how to use her iPod and then made hot cocoa and watched National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. Plus, Mim brought her new dog, Shiner Blonde [hehe] and he played with my dog, Captain Nemo, and it was so adorable.

Yesterday I baked sugar cookies and cranberry bread. I went shopping with my mom when she got home from work and that was a blast. We had pizza and watched Law & Order CI and then, we all watched ELF [I love that movie]. I'm knitting up a storm and am almost done with Andrew's scarf which is good, because he'e coming home today!!! It's also my mom's b-day so now would be a good time to go get all her presents out. Hope y'all's vacation is fun too :-)!!!

Vacation Is So Neato Daddio!

Well y'all, vacation has finally come to me! So I suppose it's time for a quick update-aroo!

Our last final was on Friday afternoon - and it was Crim. I totally blew it out of the water y'all, because God is so good to me. Afterwards I went over to the boys house to look for Mochi. Jay made taco salad for lunch, and it was tasty. I did the dishes in repayment for lunch and helped Jay and Dan get ready to go. They dueced out at around 2:00 and I went to the store to buy binders and stuff to finish organizing all my stuff for the semester. Judd took me to dinner around 6:00 or so at Guidos, at Italian restaurant down in the Crossing shopping center - it was SOO GOOD. Around 7:30 I left to meet my Tia in Ontario to get my car back in exchange for her Honda with the goofy rims. Got it and went home by 11:30 and helped Judd finish packing as we jammed to Mariah and other assorted Divas. Then, sleep.

Woke up at 6:00 am on Saturday and took a shower, packed and at 8:30 Judd and I were READY!!! Jay Parmalee took us to the airport and the rest my friends, is history!!


I'm enjoyin doing nothing: knitting in the den and watching Law & Order marathons in my room...playing with my beautiful dog. :-)

HOME

Prayer

Lord of all pots and pans and tins; since I've no time to be
a saint by doing lovely things or watching late with Thee,
or dreaming in the twilight, or storming heaven's gates -
make me a saint by getting meals and washing up the plates.

Although I must have Martha's hands, I have a Mary mind,
and when I black the boots and shoes,Thy sandals Lord, I find.
I think of how Thou trod the Earth, each time I scrub the floor;

Accept this meditation Lord, I haven't time for more.

Warm all the kitchen with Thy love and light it with Thy peace;
Forgive me all my worrying and make all grumbling cease.

Thou who didst love to give men food in room or by the sea,
Accept this service that I do:
I do it unto Thee.

How Will I Know?

Ok, so here are the lyrics to an old-school Whitney Houston song I discovered in my iTunes library the other day. It intrigued me:


There’s a boy I know, he’s the one I dream of
Looks into my eyes, takes me to the clouds above
Ooh I lose control, can’t seem to get enough
When I wake from dreaming, tell me is it really love

Chorus:
How will I know (don’t trust your feelings)
How will I know
How will I know (love can be deceiving)
How will I know
How will I know if he really loves me
I say a prayer with every heart beat
I fall in love whenever we meet
I’m asking you what you know about these things
How will I know if he’s thinking of me
I try to phone but I’m too shy (can’t speak)
Falling in love is all bitter sweet
This love is strong why do I feel weak

Oh, wake me, I’m shaking, wish I had you near me now
Said there’s no mistaking, what I feel is really love

Chorus

If he loves me, if he loves me not (x3)

Chorus



Here's why I found this to be so intriguing. It seems to me, that what HE feels for HER is really none of her concern at this point. She spends one line on "he's the one I'm dreamin' of" and then skips right to "fallin' in love is so bitter sweet" etc. But the thing is, we're just supposed to presume that she is in love with him and the only question, is whether he will return her love or not.

The thing is, well I have multiple issues with this. Let's start at the beginning. While it's all well and good to assume that maybe she DOES care for him and really wants to know what he thinks of her, this song is so out of proportion. How can she truly be in love with someone she doesn't really know?? It's not "he's my friend and we've been friends forever and I love him in secret". Oh no, it's a boy she JUST MET. And so, every time they talk she falls for him more and more and just wants to know if he too, is senseless.

Secondly, she seems to steal all of the romance out of it for herself. The best way to express this would be to use a phrase a friend of mine used: "it is a rebuttable presumption that a guy doesn't like you. Let him rebutt it if he does." Good call! So, if he was interested in her, he would let her know. If he doesn't, maybe it's not time or maybe he may need a little push. But certainly, certainly a boy she just met doesn't need the assault of a song about how much she is in love with him every time they speak - so what, she sat next to him on a bus and that was it? The next week when he said hi to her at the bus stop or tipped his hat good morning she got weak in the knees? That's just stupid.

Finally, and most importantly. It seems to me that the REAL question - the most important question - would be how would she know if she really loved him. You don't need someone to always say they care for you for you to know it's true. Granted, they ought to say so, but it isn't necessary for determination, perhaps only from a reenforcement stand point. The real question, is what does she feel for him? Love is a serious and important thing, and it's not a game. I have found the most difficult decisions for me to be what I think about him, not what he thinks about me. If a guy likes you and asks you out, you need to decide what you think before you answer. And as the relationship progresses, it can only go as far as both people are willing to let it. If you feel something for him that he doesn't for you, you wait, or move on. If you don't feel for him what he feels for you, you still wait or move on. Both are YOUR choices. Everyone gets this choice.

I am more concerned now about deciphering my feelings for others, not deciphering their feelings for me. And I hope this is ALWAYS true.


KNOW THYSELF.

Thankfull

Well, I haven't posted in a while that's for sure! I've been studying y'all. I have also been very sick. Tuesday I took my first law school final ever. I was however, very sick. I had a fever and was very spaced out the entire time. My mystery man says that perhaps God is trying to even the scales so that EVERYONE else has a chance. I laughed.

Tuesday evening when they found out I was sick, Mochi and Mystery Man brought me juice. Then yesterday evening, during one of my many recovery naps, Mystery Man brought me juice and cough drops and vitamins. He came in my apartment unbeknownst to anyone, put them away, and left without a sound. When I woke up...I found the cough drops on my kitchen counter with a bottle of vitamins when I went to the kitchen to make more hot tea. I opened the fridge for milk for it and found orange juice. I called him and yes indeed, he had been there while I was sleeping and simply didn't want to wake me. He claims the door was open and although it may have been, the girls usually shut it at night when it gets cold. I guess, I guess he's just "stealthy". I guess he has been practicing. It is becoming for a man of mystery to be stealthy.

Well, I have slept a whole bunch over the past few days, and had another final today. I did so well on that exam today; I was congnisent and not distracted. God is so faithful: so good to me. He woke me up less sick and ready!! I remembered EVERYTHING I needed to. I'm so thankful for what He does for me.

I'm eating my third meal since Monday...I'm thankful for that too. There are people in the world who have NEVER heard of antibiotics and who are far sicker than I. They are just lying outside without a home and without food. They don't have blankets for their chills or a nice breeze for their fever. They don't have a Mystery man who could bring them cold orange juice and Zinc. They could not come in away from the animals or get away from the cold or the heat. I'm so thankful for everything God has blessed me with. The least I can do is study while I'm "sick" so I can help THEM later get in out of the cold.

For justice I study.

Christmas

I got my first Christmas present today! My Mystery Man bought me books! I had asked to read a book of his, one of a religious connotation, and I guess he just decided that i needed my own! So, he bought me three books by the same author and, it was even in a box. How exciting!


I'm going home soon - all I really want for Christmas is that. I want to go home.

Verse for the Day

1 Peter 1:3-9

3Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, 4and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade—kept in heaven for you, 5who through faith are shielded by God's power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time. 6In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. 7These have come so that your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. 8Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, 9for you are receiving the goal of your faith, the salvation of your souls.

I'm Beautiful Beacuse I'm His Glory

Tonight my prayer time was spent out at alumni park. It is so beautiful there you know? Anyway, while I was siting there, all alone in the dark with God, I had absolutely the coolest thought [from Him] come into my head. God and I were having a nice chat about lots of stuff. When we were talking about one specific thing, guess what I realized? No matter how beautiful and exquisite the world is [ the ocean, the birds, Spring, Winter snow, a child's laugh] or even the universe and all the planets, I'm even MORE beautiful. God thinks I'm even more beautiful then any starscape. How unbelievable is that??

The creator of all things, the ruler of the heavens thinks I'm more breathtaking than even the most beautiful of star-scapes.


I am His Glory.


Righteous.

Now You've Done It!

You know what really annoys me? When people say they are going to be somewhere and they are not. Worse than having someone hang up on you [or have their phone cut out] is when they tell you to call and then don't answer. Especailly when it is important...


It's even worse...so I've been told...when they turn it off next...


Goodnight...more on this tomorrow.

COMING SOON TO A BLOG NEAR YOU: AFTERNOON STUDYING IN ALUMNI PARK!

My Altar Cloth

When a woman makes an altar cloth, so far as she is able, she makes every flower as lovely as the graceful flowers of the field, as far as she is able, every star as sparkling as the glistening stars of the night. She withholds nothing, but uses the most precious things she possesses. She sells off every other claim upon her life that she may purchase the most uninterrupted and favorable time of the day and night for her one and only, for her beloved work. But when the cloth is finished and put to its sacred use: then she is deeply distressed if someone should make the mistake of looking at her art, instead of at the meaning of the cloth; or make the mistake of looking at a defect, instead of at the meaning of the cloth. For she could not work the sacred meaning into the cloth itself, nor could she sew it on the cloth as though it were one more ornament. This meaning really lies in the beholder and in the beholder’s understanding, if he, in the endless distance of the separation, above himself and above his own self, has completely forgotten the needlewoman and what was hers to do. It was allowable, it was proper, it was duty, it was a precious duty, it was the highest happiness of all for the needlewoman to do everything in order to accomplish what was hers to do; but it was a trespass against God, an insulting misunderstanding of the poor needle-woman, when someone looked wrongly and saw what was only there, not to attract attention to itself, but rather so that its omission would not distract by drawing attention to itself.


Kierkegaard's Purity of Heart Is To Will One Thing is my favorite book. I must be truthful and say that I appreciate all of his works. I'm not certain what exactly called my mind to this passage this evening [or rather early this morning], but I know why my thoughts recalled it: I am trying to make my altar cloth.

I have spent the last 8 hours or so working on my job application for IJM's summer internship. I am absolutely exhausted, but am ready and willing to accept that my sleep will be minimal until Christmas comes. In all honesty, I have never slept here as I could sleep at home. [My father once said I'd learn that home wasn't a real place, and you could never go home again, but I disagree.]

Either way, I have been beating myself senseless to get my resume perfect, my cover letter praiseworthy, and my writing samples impressive beyond doubt. Then came the part that was most difficult: my statement of faith.

I'm still working on it of course, and exhausting is teeming over my weary eyelids. Somehow though, I am embolden to press on, because there is something more at stake here than how tired I am tomorrow morning. This is my altar cloth. I watched Chariots of Fire Today and the line that caught me was "God made me good. But he also made me fast. When I run I feel his pleasure."

I am ready and willing to recognize this post makes no cognitive sense, but I'm not sure that matters. After all, this is my talking to my father and the words don't always have to be lyrical for Him to hear me. When I'm on my knees I feel so powerful - the God of the universe is LISTENING to me, for as long as I would like. Oh the love in my heart...

That is what I pour into my quest: the love He shows to me, the blessings he has given me, the love that is overflowing in me. I pour it into this one thought, the unitary goal of being where I need to be to do what I need to do to BE whom He wishes me to be. If you cannot understand this, this quest, this goal of mine, look past the crooked stitching please. Please. Please hear their voices and please see the infinate depth of the Almighty's love for them behind my tears.

Please.

The Lord's Day

The Lord is so unbelievably faithful y'all. I just am amazed each and everyday not necessarily at what He can do, but what He chooses to do.

First, I see the Lord very clearly in my friends. Last night I was so tired and stressed and it didn't seem to me that my eye was getting any better. My best friend Andrew, well he seemed to know JUST what would make me feel better. It started out as our usual AIM chat, and then voice chat, and sharing music. Then, it evolved to him creating my very own radio station: D-MAN Radio! For quite some time, both to encourage me to keep studying and to make me feel less homesick, he broadcasted from Austin, Texas, right to my computer music and sound effects just for me! That was the coolest thing ever and I smiled. Goofy as some of his music choices might be, nothing says home to me like the randomness of my best friend.
Secondly, I woke up early this morning, just about half-an-hour ago [ok, late for me, but early enough still for most] and I actually feel rested. God has blessed my sleep and I don't feel tired. More importantly however, as I rolled out of bed to go put more medication in my eye, I stopped cold when I looked in the mirror. The redness in my eye, it's COMPLETELY GONE Y'ALL! Sure it hurts still, but I can open it now! The redness is all gone! The only red still there is the actual ulcer on my eye but who cares! I feel so much better! I got really excited, and went outside and sure enough, I can look toward the ocean and the sunlight doesn't hurt anymore! Ok, so it still hurts when the light is bright but I can notice a SUBSTANTIAL difference. I can go outside, I can drive, maybe. But again, I can see! Oh I'm so happy!

I once heard this Bill Cosby routine that one of the reasons we should not say God's name in vain, is because God is busy. True. So, every little now and then I have to ask myself the obvious question, how does my life have such cosmic significance, that God would help me? love me? comfort me? Answer? It doesn't. That, in my opinion, almost makes it better! God loves me not because I'm me, but because I'm His. It's so wonderful. The lilies look beautiful today, and so do I.

Thank-you Abba.

And now, Yahweh, I have some business to be about, and I believe it's yours.

Mystery Man

Well it is official; people crack me up.

As part of this blog, I write not only about my own personal business, but about the business of others when it intersects with mine. So, in the interests of personal privacy [and good, clean fun] I preserve the privacy of all those involved


There have been many questions about what Mystery Man's name is. The answer I continually give is "Mystery Man". This ladies and gentlemen is his name.


There have been many guesses about what other name or names he may go by, and all of them WRONG. Is it important? No, not really. At least, not to the point where any of you should be all that worried about it. Of course if it weren't THAT important, you're saying to yourself, she'd just tell us. Perhaps, perhaps. Or, perhaps I am just keeping private what isn't mine to tell.

Take Note:

1. If you look carefully, he's in MANY posts on this blog.
2. His clothing taste ought not be questioned.
3. You'll note, that he is the one who decided to be called this.
4. You'll see he makes apperances at most all our group activities but only in somewhat of a nonchalant manner.
5. He and my Jonathan are in fact NOT the same person. Jonathan, aka. Wonderboy, who has met my family, is NOT Mystery Man. Why would he be if he's already met you. Keep guessing, I'll entertain your guesses. :-)
6. He usually has very important things to do on weekends.
7. His real home is very far away.
8. He can easily illicit a laugh from the entire class.
9. He is heads above most everyone I know.

That Is All.

End Transmission. Secret Squirrel Out.


You may make your comments as you wish.

A Fluke That's Good For You

Well, I'm not usually the BIGGEST Destiny's Child fan, but this song is unbelievable. It made me cry last night during my devo time. Maybe it's the minor chords, who knows really? I can't really say anything else. Here it is.




Destiny's Child - Stand Up For Love
#1's
2005

[Beyonce]
There are times I find it hard to sleep at night
We are living through such troubled times
And every child that reaches out for someone to hold
For one moment they become my own

And how can I pretend that I don't know what's going on?
When every second, and every minute another soul is gone?
And I believe that in my life I will see(oh yea) an end to hopelessness, of giving up, of suffering

[Chorus:]
If we all stand together this one time
Then no one wil be left behind
Stand up for life
Stand up and hear me sing
Stand up for love

[Kelly]
I'm inspired and hopeful each and everyday
That's how I know that things are gonna change
So how can I pretend that I don't know what's going on?
When every second, with every minute another soul is gone?
And I believe that in my life I will see(I will see yeah)
An end to hopelessness(Hopelessness), of giving up(Giving Up), of suffering
(Suffering yah, yah)

[Chorus]
If we all stand together this one time(Time)
Then no one will get left behind
Stand up for life
Stand up for love

[Michelle]
And it all starts right here
And it starts right now
One person stands up and the rest will follow
For all the forgotten, for all the unloved
I'm gonna sing this song
And I believe that in my life I will see (yes, yes) an end to hopelessness, of giving up, of suffering

[Chorus]
If we all stand together this one time
Then no one will get left behind
Stand up for life
Stand up and sing yah
Stand up for love (for love, for love)

For I Am Not My Own

I was not in a good mood yesterday, and was busy writing about all the things that annoyed me. I must say, pride got the best of me last night. Sometime yesterday evening, I inscribed a whole lot of things on this blog that really have no business being there. As Mysetery Man later put it, upon recognizing that Rogue had advised me to "edit" my post, I wouldn't have very many friends left at home if I said things like that often [aka more than once] and that a good rule of thumb, is not to post when you're "sick". When I'm sick huh...

I edited my blog. Now, well now I would erase every word, but then how would I be learning my lesson? Let me explain.

Today was a rough day for me. I went to all of my classes in the morning, but my eye was hurting something awful. I thought, gee, pink eye hurts this much huh? I don't remember being this upset when I was eight and had pink eye...Oh well. And as it turns out, the reason I don't remember pink eye hurting this much when I was little is because pink eye DOESN'T hurt this much. See funny thing is, the opthamologist on Sunset Boulevard I saw today says what's funny is I don't have pink eye; I have a corneal ulcer. Darn it. I'll let you all google it if you must; but let's just say it's really painful and my vision is blurred now, and may be for a while. The medication is painful too...'nuff said.

I was still a little mad you know? I thought - CLEARLY this is not acceptable. How can I do my memo this way? I'm so mad. I came home, tried my medication, and MAN did it burn my eye! I still can barely see [six doeses later, at least] and the burning is still there. But I realized something reading my post from yesterday; my eye being hurt is not the sickness I need to watch out for.

Here's the thing: I am not a victim. The world is not out to get me: life is hard, period. Frankly, the fact that I cannot do my memo the way I would like to really shouldn't matter to me. Completely healthy or sick as a dog, I'm not the force behind my memo. God is. The way I see it; I'm not my own person. I'm a tool for God; I'm a kingdom servant about kingdom business. There is no other explanation for why I ended up here of all places than that God pretty much moved me to be here. I'm here to equip myself to do HIs bidding - specifically, to spread His justice. That having been said, I cannot boast in ANYTHING I've done. How smart I may be, my grades, my midterms, none of that stuff was me. That's God. Sure I work hard and study and avoid things that would prevent me from doing my best, but what I started with was all Him. I'll tell you what else is Him. He's the motivation behind doing that extra page and a half to be FULLY prepared. He has given me so much, how could I say I was too lazy to read just a few more pages? He's in the raw energy I get from nowhere. He's in the memorization of much more material than I could ever know alone. Mostly, he's in the voices I hear...the ones I often blog about: he's in their faces...the faces of starving and oppressed children waiting for an advocate. How could I ever look such a one as this in the face and say I cannot meet the demands of their legal needs because in law school I was busy goofing off? Or, better yet, I was busy being sick?

Maybe this isn't what Mystery Man meant [but I wouldn't put it past him to "mean" something more than what he "meant" ][for more on this, see The Phantom Tollbooth by Norman Juster], but I'll tell you that what he said now means to me I shouldn't post when I'm sin-sick. Somehow, I lost sight of the fact that I don't write my memos all by myself. Everything I do is by the Grace of God, and Lord willing that'll be with me all of my days.

This is almost an even BETTER chance to lean on God. We all jump for the moon - and even if some jump 8 feet and some jump 20, we all miss. But in real life sometimes it's easier to see God making up the difference when the differential is HUGE beyond all reason. I need to realize that just because I may be "bright" doesn't mean He's not there pickin' up the slack for me too: when I lean on Him.

So sure, my eye hurts REALLY badly. So sure, I can't see so well right now and sure the blurry vision is giving me a headache. But I'll tell you something; whether or not I can see doesn't change who's in my corner. I'll tell you something else I know with COMPLETE certainty: that today little kids suffered. Some of them starved, some of them were shot, some of them raped, some kidnapped, abused, and tortured. Some were forced to fight in an army they are terrified of, and some were slaughtered for the small diamond in the cross I wear under my clothes. And many many more will suffer every day. This IS even MORE certain than death and taxes because it is evil and hidden. It will not cease untill good people of faith stand up and say: "Hey, you over there! Yah you! WE CAN SEE YOU...and, what's more, WE CAN SEE WHAT YOU ARE DOING AND WE WILL NOT ALLOW THAT TO CONTINUE." Gary Haugen, IJM Founder once said: "The greatest enemy in our struggle to stop oppression and injustice is always the insidious etiquette of silence." I will not allow my eye to silence me. My grades matter because everything I do, I do for Him as part of the race set out before me. "Sorry Ugandan child soldier, lost and alone, I didn't get the job experience I needed because I didn't do my memo because my eye hurt. So now, now I am not in the position to help you. Sorry. Now look here son, I realize you were kidnapped and raped, had your leg cut off and tortured untill you fought in the army that eventually distroyed your own village. But YOU have to understand, I couldn't write with my eye like that!" NEWSFLASH...I can't do it ANYWAY. I could NEVER write my memo alone...cause alone I'd be exhausted and confused. In perspective nothing that happens to me matters. I won't let it stop me.


For I am not my own.


I hear you, and I'm coming.


For I am not my own.

Take My LIfe
ZOE Worship
Deep Calls To Deep

Lord take my life, make it your own.
Lord live through me for I am not my own.
Bought with a price, the blood of your son;
Nothing I've earned, but by your grace I come.

Lord take my heart, make it your throne.
Lord reign in me for I am not my own.
Lord reign in me, for I am not my own.

Annoyances

Blogs exist to express oneself right? I mean if they don't exist for that, I'm not really sure what they exist for.


There, I hope you read that statement because from now on I will be refering to that as my "disclaimer".


I am absolutely NOT in a good mood today. Maybe I should spend less time studying [yah right, that's the answer!] or maybe I should sleep more or maybe I should spend more tiime with my family or maybe I should spend less time on the phone. Either way something is out of whack. Let's address each of these in order:


1. Have you ever felt like people around you need to get over themselves? Ok I'm sure we all have. There are people around here who are so stinking self-absorbed they think everything in life is all about them. If you say something to them, just in passing even, it means that there is a HUGE conspiracy to annoy them, or to hate them, or steal their cheetoes. I hate that. I hate that people ignore you until they want you to get something for them at the store or go somewhere for them or until they read your blog and think that it's about them when it's NOT. I swear, if everyone would just grow up life would be a whole lot easier. Of course I can say these things on my BLOG b/c I'm too terribly big on confrontation. I would never go up to someone and say: "You are ticking me off. I thought we could be friends but if you're gonna be such a witch all the time forget it. P.S. I'm smarter than you." Yah right. I wish. I have a hard time telling a waiter at a restaurant that he brought me the wrong sandwhich or that my Dr. Pepper somehow turned into Diet [yuck] Coke on the way over to my table. And although I can't say those things, there are DEFINATELY some people I'd like to tell to see themselves right on over to France...sheesh.

2. Why do things always go wrong when you need them to go right, more than at ANY OTHER TIME? For instance, this Sunday [in a few days and counting] my legal research and writing memo is due: it's my final grade in LRW and I kinda need for it NOT to suck. So, I spent all weekend doing my homework for each class for the rest of the week so that I could work onthe memo during the week. And what happens? I GO AND GET PINK EYE! Like I don't have enough problems, my eye has been swollen and burning for the whole week, and I thought it was just my contacts. I can't really see and it HURTS. I went to the doctor today, spent an HOUR there and have to go back tomorrow. Almost killed someone going to the store post-doctor b/c can't see...Mystery Man alleges negligence. I say, consideration. I mean come on, people are busy, who wants to take me to the store? I'm sure all my friends WOULD do it, but they don't have the time. I don't even have the time. Why should they? [And to top it all off, I was supposed to go shopping today to get toys for the toy drive and now I cannot BECAUSE I CAN'T SEE.] I should be further proofing my rough draft for my memo, but I've been asleep all day b/c of my eye and don't even get me started on the fact that in addition to a bad case of pink eye [now in BOTH eyes] I also have a CUT on my right eye and need an Optomitrist.

3. People suck. Sheesh. [For more on this, see #1 or the Bible or the Simpsons, season 3]

4. So boys. [This post has been edited at the request of many friends and at the behest of one "Choir Director".]


5. Being misunderstood sux. It's not that I intend to use this as a online DIARY or anything. Rather, I know that many of my friends read this. If you're not in law school and you're reading this just cut me some slack and leave me alone. Don't call me with frivilous questions. Don't have the nerve to call and say I never call you. Don't complain about how you never hear from me. You think I don't know that? Dont' you think that at least ONCE since I've been here I have though about you? The truth is I am homesick. I want to go home, and I miss my family, my friends, Texas, and my dog [sounds like a country song]. California is awful. Pepperdine is good though. But you know what? It doesn't matter if Pepperdine is the coolest place on Earth, or worse than being stuck in an episode of Saved By The Bell for life, becasue I'm here. If you cared about me AT ALL, you'd BACK OFF and want me to do well. This goes as well for people who are always pressuring me to be number one. Let me share a little secret with you: NO ONE that I am personally aware of HAS EVER gotten 100 in EVERY CLASS in law school. It is not going to happen Plus, I'm at a REALLY good law school here. You should be proud of me for being here - I am. I know what's riding on this: my scholarships, my education, loan money, my future, blah blah blah. THANX FOR REMINDING ME. I'm doing the best I can. While you're waiting to harass me why don't you look up the staz on the number of people who NEVER FINISH LAW SCHOOL?? I'm doing the best I can and really don't need anymore pressure. I live in an oven as it is. I would give anything to say all of this to some of the people in my life. But I won't. It's not all true, but it's how I feel. Not everyone actually says all of these things to me, but it's the impression they give. Some people DO say these things to me. One of my best friends called and said I never call him back and don't I love him anymore? I almost cried. There's nothing I can do about it...I signed up for this and I'm gonna take the bull by the horns. No room for ameteurs: this isn't mutton bustin' man...this is the Big Rodeo in the Sky...and I'm going for the best time...


Ok. have many many more things I could complain about, but I'll stop here. I don't mean to complain, but this is the best forum I have for working through my own thoughts. The people I love who read this need to realize that this is just a rough cut: my visceral reactions. Now it's true of course, that I can edit on here and I usually do, some things, I think, need to be expressed just as we feel them. So if you love me, forgive me and go on to another post. Man oh man I want to go home..

Rogue's Idea...So Blame Him...Whoever He Is

Well, I got this email today from Rogue and I though...hmm...this calls for a ridiculous internet push-button poll!!


From: Rogue@RougeNation.com
Subject: Super Idea
Date: November 17, 2005 4:26:43 PM PST
To: elizabeth.alvarez@pepperdine.edu

I just got this crazy idea that we should take an old Gregorian chant, and
put a whole bunch of Latin, legal phrases to it. We could use words such as
Actus reus, mens rea, res ipsa loquitur, prima fascia, ad hoc ergo prompter
hoc, and etc.

It will be even better if we then put together a choir and we find some
appropriate activity to sing it at.

Rogue


So now it is time....VOTE Y'ALL VOTE!

How cool is this idea? About as cool as Miller listening to The Ramones! [Hella cool!] As cool as Jay the dying liquor store owner. As cool as Family Guy. [nuff said] Only as cool as Growing Pains!   View Results Create your own poll!

Rules

I've been told by some - INCLUDING YOU MYSTERY MAN - that there are some rules I should accept now that I'm living here in California. Well, here is MY response to THAT:



Rules For Entering Texas

These apply to every person as they enter Texas. Learn ’em & ’member
’em. East Coast and California-types should pay particular attention!

1. Pull your droopy pants up. You look like an idiot.

2. Let’s get this straight; it’s called a "gravel road," I drive a
pickup truck because I need to. No matter how slow you drive, you’re
going to get dust on your Lexus. Drive it or get the hell out of the
way.

3. Those are cattle & oil wells. That’s what they smell like to you.
They smell like money to us. Get over it. You don’t like it? I-20
And I-10 go east and west, I-35 goes north and south. Pick one and
go.

4. So you have a $60,000 dollar car. We’re impressed. We have
quarter-million dollar cotton strippers that we drive 3 weeks a year.

5. So what if every person in every pickup waves. It’s called being
friendly. Try to understand the concept.

6. If that cell phone rings while a bunch of doves are coming in, we
WILL shoot it out of your hand. You better hope you don’t have it
up to your ear at the time.

7. Yeah, we eat catfish & crawdads. You really want sushi &caviar?
It’s available at the corner bait shop.

8. The "Opener" refers to the first day of deer season. It’s a
religious holiday held the closest Saturday to the first of
November.

9. We open doors for women. That applies to everyone, regardless of
age.

10. No, there’s no "vegetarian special" on the menu. Order a steak.
Or order the Chef’s Salad and pick off the 2 pounds of ham &turkey.

11. When we fill out a table, there are three main dishes: meats,
vegetables and breads. We use three spices: salt, pepper and green
chili. Oh, yeah .... We don’t care what you folks in Cincinnati call
that stuff you eat... It AIN’T REAL CHILI!! Chili was born and bred
in San Antonio....and real chili never met a tomato!

12. You bring "coke" into my house, it better be brown, wet, and
served over ice. You bring "Mary Jane" into my house, she better be
cute,
know how to shoot, drive a truck and have pretty long hair.

13. High School Football is as important here as the Lakers and the
Knicks, and a dang site more fun to watch.

14. Yeah, we have golf courses. Don’t hit the water hazards - it spooks the fish.

15. Colleges? Try Texas A&M. They come outta there with an education, plus a love for God and country, and they still wave at passing pickups when they come home for the holidays.

16. We have more folks in the Navy, Army, Marines and Air Force than any other state, so "Don’t Mess with Texas." If you do, you will get your butt whipped by the best.

17. Always remember what our great governor Sam Houston once said:
"Texas can make it without the United States, but the United States
can’t make it without Texas."

18. By the way, the boys that captured So-Damn Insane (Hussein) were
from...Yep! You guessed it~~"The Great State of Texas."

Nicknames

I have always had a facination with nicknames. I think everyone, secretly, has a facination with nicknames. It is my personal belief [and as we have covered many times previous to the instant post on this blog, all my personal beliefs and opinions are correct] that everyone has always secretly wished that they had a cool nickname. Do not deny it, for it is the absolute truth!!

But what exactly do nicknames mean? Some nicknames, are for private use only. For example, there are those we use with teachers or authority figures that are only to indicate a sense exhasperation with them. One of my proffessors in undergrad was a bit bumbling and kind of awkward. Somehow though, he was often put in charge of big public events, often turning them into big public spectacles. This led to the nickname "Bubbles", a derivitave of Bubbles the Clown. But similarly, some nicknames that are private are not for ridicule purposes, but for the purposes of affection: like when my daddy called me Foo Foo when I was a baby.

As we grow older though, we all want to be the one with the good nickname. All good nicknames have good stories. I will tell you what though: I have often been facinated by people with enough skill to choose their own nicknames. That is something which has NEVER failed to impress me. Those are the people who are so rogue, so cool, that they can say things like "Call me the Fonz" and everyone WILL JUST DO IT! I have read enough Judy Blume books to know that this is CLEARLY not how it works in real life. There a plenty of examples of young adolescents who give it their all: they will do ABSOLUTELY anything to get people to call them Trixie, or Pinkie, or some other thing that ends in "IE" or "Y" pronounced "eeeeeeeee". But it doesn't seem to work out well for them...now why is that I wonder?

I'll tell you why that is ladies and gentlemen, it's because nicknames are inherently cool: both the ones that are used mockingly and those that are not. If no one cases about you or your mild ability to annoy then clearly they will not take the time to assign you a nickname. But if you are so menacing as to qualify you for "nickname land" than you are GOLDEN. that's why these silly teeny-boppers could not force nick-nameness. You can't force cool. Only the truly cool can say "You will refer to me as Mystery Man yes?" and have people acquiesce. Man, NOW THAT'S cool.

Nicknames always have something important to say about people. It seems to me that most people worry more about their nicknames then they are willing to admit. We all want someone -particularly that certian someone- to pay attention to us enough to give us a nickname, but we wonder what each nickname means. What is the secret meaning behind the names others give us? I think the real question is, why are we only happy with nicknames that reflect what we would hope to project about ourselves?

Home

It's been a busy past week and a half you know? Friday Mystery Man [yes, he strikes again!] - and I went with everyone else over to the 3rd Street Promenade for our Section C Party. My roomie - Chelsea [heck yes she's cool] organized it. So M&M [Mystery Man] was over here at 4:15, as instructed, but it turns out that Brendan [Chelsea's boy] wasn't ready to go yet. We pretty much waited around for Brendan for like 45 minutes. M&M and I hung out and talked about Classic Rock and other randomness and then Chelsea said it was time to go. Brendan had some kind of issue on his way down the stairs and ended up not driving with us. Chelsea and Andy took one car and M&M and I took another.

It was fun. We all hung out and ate and there was pool and stuff: Chelsea had gotten us a whole floor! It was pretty fun y'all! After a while, as more people began to show up and more alcohol began to pass through their veins, M&M and I bailed for general Promenade fun.

For those of you who don't live around here, the 3rd Street Promenade is world-famous!! It's multiple blocks with stores, bars, street performers, food, EVERYTHING!! It's so cool. We just hung out and talked and stuff: relaxin' doin' nothing [a rare commodity around here!]. I think we only went in one store - Barnes and Noble. Anyway, we left the promenade after a couple of hours and came back here to campus. We played Game Cube for a while and then watched South Park. At about 1:30 we called it a night.

Saturday morning I left for home the remix. When I got to my Abuela's house, she said I was skinnier. "oh la la!!" While telling me I could stay skinnier by not eating flour tortillas, she proceeded to feed me like twice in 4 hours. I love mi abulea! The weekend was wonderful and relaxing. Good food, my wonderful family, some shopping, and new running shoes! Abuela made me tortillas to take with me, and I took the 101 into Calabasas [instead of the 10 to the PCH] cause I like to see Hollywood at night, and because I stopped at Jonathan's [WonderBoy!]. WonderBoy! got 6 tortillas and we hung out for a while. Then I headed home for bed.

Class has been business as usual here for a while. We had the canned immunity thing today [bring a can for the food drive to class and your prof can't call on you! How righteous is that!] and Jonathan [Mr. Jonathan Webb, NOT Wonder Boy!] invited me to lunch with him. It was good...pizza. I'm sleepy now so I'm heading to bed. I don't really have anything substantive to offer today, but I do have three closing comments:

1. I BOUGHT MY PLANE TICKET HOME FOR CHRISTMAS VACATION AND AM COUNTING DOWN THE DAYS!!!
2. I have a Texas Mix that I listen to, and it makes me happy!
3. I lost my teddy bear...


sad :-(

Choosing to Choose

There are some issues in life, very few of course, that I do not have an opinion on or about. I can say with absolute certainty that I have formulated an opinion about just about everything, and that this opinion is correct. I am however, open-minded, and have changed my mind before on certain issues. Then, it is my NEWLY formed and better informed opinion that is correct. I have to believe that, because otherwise the opinion's not worth having. I believe I can believe I'm right and still be open-minded...[And anyone who DOESN'T buy THAT analysis is clearly mistaken and very stupid.] [The End]

But a problem arises when I run into one of those few areas I havne't formed an opinion about. I've discovered that I can group these "no comment" issues into three main categories:

1. I don't care. [This includes things like mongoose importation laws and city zoning laws concerning how many pick-up trucks can be parked in front of one frat-house]
2. I have no idea what would happen to me if I actually voiced my REAL opinion on these issues. [This includes things like copying someone else's CDs to my powerbook and then putting them on my iPod and jammin' to the tunage on the way to Property Class, enjoying the irony all the way...]
3. I'm too scared to decide. [This category is the only one that matters.]

Included in the third category of "no comment" issues are all the substantive public policy concerns focused around gay rights. As a card-carrying member of the Vast Right Wing Conspiracy [it's true, I got it from a book at Barnes & Noble], I am well aware that many of my compatriots - especially those from the south - use "gay rights" as a brite-line for party affiliation. To quote a friend of mine [sadly] "Republicans may be bad about some things, like helpin' the poor and all that junk, but Democrats kill babies and let gays fornicate!" When I heard him say that for the first time [and frankly, each and every time after the first time], I knew it was wrong. I knew it was rude, unnecessary and uncalled for. But I didn't know what to say, or how to respond.

I usually stay out of the whole Gay Rights issue, though not because it's too complicated, or I don't care. On the contrary, I have opinions on issues as complex and detailed as Russia's arms-dealing with Armenia, underground oil pipelines, the ability of the ICC to issue subpeonas, and the Togese presidential power system. I hardly think that the dpeth of the issue could be a deterent. And I definately care about ANY issue involving the allocation or denial of rights to any person. The reason I don't have an opinion is because it's in category three. Rather, it's in category three BECAUSE I'm too scared to decide. I knew the time would come when I would be forced too, but I guess I just figured I was too busy to worry about that now. Then, Red Cross came. [Why is it that Red Cross always represents something evil in the illustrations of conservatives? Answer: Because itare evil.]

I went to our law school's blood drive the other day, and while I was being asked all the questions one is normally asked to decide if one ought to be excluded from the blood donation pool. Some of the questions seemed reasonable: had I had sex recently with anyone with TB? [No, no sex at all, ever...] Had I had sex with a prostitutue? Had I had sex with a man who had had sex with another man? Wait wait wait. So, having sex with prostitute is clearly something that might give me a disease. So too, is having sex with a man with TB equally dangerous. But having sex with a man who had had sex with another man? That's absurd. They didn't ask me if I had had sex with another woman. What is the big deal?

Oh wait, I know! Either (A) we can't have sex with men who have sex with other men [besides the obvious reasons entailed within holding to a Christian faith] because gay men carry disease. If I had said yes to that question, I would have been IMMEDIATELY disqualified from giving blood. Basically, they don't care how safe the sex is between gay men because gay men carry disease. Period. Safe sex between heterosexuals is ok, so is even UNSAFE sex between lesbians, as long as that other female doesn't carry TB. That's proposterous.

Oh I'm sorry Red Cross, was that not the reason you asked me that question? Well, the only other reason I can think of is that you think gay men have some sort of "gayness" gene we DEFINATELY wouldn't want flowing through other people's vains. I'm just so offended right now. I mean the thought of telling someone you don't want their potentially life saving blood because they are a gay man or might have had sex with a man who had sex with another man is absolutely repugnant. I guess it is ok, as long as I can be sure that you, Red Cross, are going walk up and down the ERs of hospitals and explain to the families of people who's lives were lost for lack of blood that you could have saved them if you weren't so sickeningly homophobic. You make me sick.

You test the blood anyway don't you? I mean honestly. The effects of this public policy are horrific!

1. You are encouraging people to LIE to you when they answer questions about their lives. Clearly this could have all SORTS of horrid implications.

2. You sirs and madams, are encouraging a disgusting breed of homophobia; state sponsored repression. Don't bother government, in passing hate-crime legislation, when benevolent organizations like the Red Cross are teaching Americans how to fee and think about the issue: don't touch gay men! Their blood is diseased and has "the gayness". Oh my heaven.

Now you may infer from this post, that I myself am a lesbian. This is not the case. Nor is it the case, that I have found any sort of scriptural support for the concept that homosexuality is not a sin. But that doesn't really matter now does it? First of all, because what the Red Cross is doing is morally wrong, if for no other reason then they are discriminating based on sexual preference, perpetuating lies about the gay community, and teaching people to hate. I don't know what to do about gay rights but THIS is clearly NOT the answer.

Shame on you Red Cross. Go help someone else because your "benevolance" is not wanted here.

3rd Street Promenade

Well ladies and gentlemen I know it has been a while since I've posted. The explanation that I have behind this, is that I have been working on a huge post, and I can't get it to come out right, so I scrapped it. Tonight I went to see "Goodbye, and Goodnight" with a friend in Santa Monica. Having been put on notice that blogging is something in my nature, he has requested to be heretofore refered to as "Mystery Man". We went downtown there, to the third street Promenade. He had never been there before, and was impressed I think, with the quite obvious coolness therein. It was very cold and very colorful; like la Posada. Street performers, stores, food, and badly dressed teenagers.

More importantly however, the movie was absoultely fantastic! Black and white and glorious. I am almost too tired to post about it...but I definately loved it. I find it odd, that I can enjoy a movie with someone I have almost nothing in common with that no one else I have plenty in common with would like to see.

He hates sports: thought the Texas Rangers were called the Dallas Rangers. He thinks you can like the Dallas Cowboys AND the San Fransisco 49rs at the same time. He doesn't like country and does like Calfornia. He doesn't even know who the Spurs are...he somehow thinks it is acceptable for people HERE to wear Cowboy boots. He doesn't like Harry Potter...or cars...he drives a BUICK. Heavens to Betsy mama...we got ourselves a yankee!

Tonight we each go home, and in the morning we will each go to Church in a starkly different way. I'll go to the late service with Jonathan, and Mystery Man will watch his Church on the internet. Different strokes for different folks. Still a nice kid...guess I'll be making lots of both new AND different friends.

I Am Self-Aggrandizing!

OK SO GUESS WHO MADE A 29 ON THEIR CONTRACTS MIDTERM!


Oh wait, that was me!

Gawd dawg it I'm cool!

MTV

Recently I have, unfortunately as far as some may be concerned, taken to watching MTV Video wake-up in the mornings before class. I am not sure why I have started doing this. I know when I started doing it though. Over a month ago when I got bronchitus and sinusitus, I was lying in bed with nothing to watch, flipping channels with my handy-dandy [NOTEBOOK!] Universal Remote Control. During this media escapade, I came upon a video with a sound I liked. It turned out to be Click Five's New Single: Just The Girl I'm Looking For. As I watched the video I thought "Hm...I like this song. There's no radio up here, so I probably wouldn't have ever heard of it until iTunes featured it. Maybe I should watch more...". And so I did.

On Hell: Part One - I Shudder

I remember my father, in all his vast and unsurpassed knowledge and wisdom once asked me what I thought Hell was. Not what I thought Hell was like, but what Hell was. It is of course, an interesting thing to think about.

Now I am not unlike many other good little products of faitful bible school patronage in that I have always known that there is a Hell and it is bad. More than likely, it is also red, and hot, and there is probably no football there [certainly no Big 12 Football anyway.] But perhaps there is so much more to it.

I have been reading Weight of Glory by C.S. Lewis. It is a glorious book, and I reccomend it to anyone who hasn't read it yet. Now, having read the entire book, I went back and re-read the first chapter. There is a section of it that really struck me:


Perhaps it seems rather crude to describe glory as the fact of being "noticed" by God. But this is almost the languge of the New Testament. St. Paul promises to those who love God not, as we should expect, that they will know Him, but that they will be known by Him. (I Cor. 8:3). It is a strange promise. Does not God know all things at all times? But it is dreadfully reechoed in another passage of the New Testament. There we are warned that it may happen to anyone of us to appear at last before the face of God and hear only the appalling words, "I never knew you. Depart from Me." In some sense, as dark to the intellect as it is unendurable to the feelings, we can be both banished from the presence of Him who is present everywhere and erased from the knowledge of Him who knows all. We can be left utterly and absolutely outside - repelled, exiled, estranged, finally and unspeakably ignored. On the other hand, we can be called in, welcomed, received, acknowledged. We walk every day on the razor edge between these two incredible possibilities. Apparently, then, our lifelong nostalgia, our longing to be reunited with something in teh universe from which we now feel cut off, to be on the inside of some door which we have always seen from the outside, is no mere neurotic fancy, but he truest index of our real situation. And to be at last summoned inside would be both glory and honour beyond all our merits and also the healing of that old ache.


This passage struck me. A substantial part of this chapter, is about what it means to seek the Glory of God - or the glory we are promised. And as intially offensive as it may seem, part of his argument, is that the glory we seek is comparable to fame or fortune in the eyes of God. And now, now I realize what Hell is.

One of my biggest peeves is when uneducated indivuduals speak at funerals. It really offends me to hear people say about young children hit by cars, or teenagers shot at school, or mothers who die from cancer "God called them home...He wanted them close by Him." That is just ridiculously wrong. God is not responsible for the evil of the world, we are. So we mess up, partake of the fruit, and to quote Bill Cosby, there's God, 5 seconds later, whistle in mouth: "Everybody, out of the pool!" Laws of nature govern our planet...people who jump off of buildings die. People who are terminally ill die. People who are hit by drunk drivers die. People want to jump off of buildings and drive drunk because of sin. People get sick because we're human in a fallen world: we get sick and die. And while of course if God felt not only the need and want, but found it necessary to alter the chain of natural events to avoid a logical conclusion at any point, that would be His perrogative. But it would be my first contention that He does not because He is restrained by His own love for us and our sanity. If we walked out of our homes everyday uncertain of the natural operations of our world, we'd go nuts. If objects could fall at any speed, or not fall at all; if we could make use of gravity every thrity days, and if people got sick and got better randomly our limited minds couldn't compute that information. We need the control. But secondly I would contend that I do not try to fathom the behavior of God...

But perhaps even more interesting and irritating to me, is when people say to me while crying over the loss of a loved one: "they are in a better place." This too, is simply NOT true. At death, we die. This whole concept of a HUGE difference between body and soul is borrowed from Greek and Roman cultures - it is not Christian theology. This body dies and decays...and when the age has ended and Christ returns, he will CALL UP those who are to be with Him and His father. Everyone else, not so much.

Hell is that seperation that Lewis refers to. Can you imagine hearing the One who knows all and sees all say: "Be gone from me, I never knew you"? Think of those old fairtales, when an offendor to the throne would be told "You are banished from my presence." Remember those? The King's "presence" extended to the far reaches of the Kingdom. But what are the far reaches of God's kingdom - nothing. God exercises dominion over all. So to be banished from the presence of He who is everywhere, rulling everything; to be told "I don't know you" by He who knows all, is Hell. It is being erased from existence.

Douglas Adams in his book 'The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy" says that every living creature emits a vibe when under stress that lets others around them know just how far that being is from home. While on Earth, we do not notice that because no one is ever more than a few thousand miles away from the place of their birth. When Ford Prefect is around humans and under stress, we reel at the impact of the distance he is from home. God exiles Hell to outside His kingdom. He still exercises dominion over it because existence is now and always will be on His terms - He created existence. But those who are diseased cannot be allowed to continue to exist in the community of those who are well. Hell is the darkness of non-existence. I shudder at the pure distance.

Texas

"A born Texan has instilled in his system a mind-set of no retreat or no surrender. I wish everyone the world over had the dominating spirit that motivates Texans." - Former Texas Speaker of the House Billy Clayton.


Ok, now that THAT is out of my system, check out this article from the Austin Chronicle:


************************************************
The Legendary Snow Monkeys of Texas

BY ED BAKER

A young Japanese macaque in his adopted home in 1989
photo by Karen Dickey


It was Jan. 21, 1996, the last day of the winter buck season. Missy, Lilly, and Meggy, two of them nursing mothers, had been shot dead – "blowed apart," according to the game warden called to the scene. A fourth survivor, Jason, was left with only a stump for an arm. All had been shot a few feet outside their home fence line, while snacking on deer corn that had been spread as bait.
At the time, many locals could have predicted this would happen. But the actual chain of events, the true story behind one of Texas' most persistent rural legends – the 1996 open season on monkeys – is a story that has steadily faded. How had monkeys come to be standing in the Texas hunters' firing line?

The troop under fire consisted of wild but rapidly acculturating "Snow Monkeys" (more precisely known as Japanese macaques, or Macaca fuscata). This particular troop began as about 150 in number, previously evicted from the encroaching suburbs of Kyoto, Japan. They had been brought to the South Texas Primate Observatory in 1972, in the first attempt at the relocation of an entire primate population. The observatory's ranch near Dilley, in Frio County, was much hotter than the macaques' Japanese home, and at first many perished. But South Texas eventually provided the conditions the monkeys needed to thrive: a wild setting, water tanks, plenty of mesquite beans, cactus fruits, and lots of tall brush to climb around in. Things went very well – at least for the first couple of decades.

The troop grew and evolved, retaining some wild traits while expanding their human-adapted behavior. They took advantage of man-made perches, row crops, and food provided to them, as well as feed pilfered from local farms and ranches. They learned to defeat fences, locks, and gates. Much like farm animals, they became semidependent on the proximity of humans. They multiplied, to an estimated 600 by 1995.

Twenty years of success opened the door to one legendary failure.

First, a bobcat or cougar killed the troop's leader among his companions. The frightened survivors began, understandably, to hang more closely around the roofs, fences, and compounds of both their own home and the neighboring ranches. Someone called authorities to complain. Surely it wasn't acceptable to set loose a bunch of foreign primates on a quiet rural county? Not that they were as bad as fire ants or salt cedar, but still, there had to be rules about these things, right?

Well, there had been. Until 1994, the monkeys had been protected officially as a "threatened species" under the Endangered Species Act, and unofficially by observatory neighbors who felt protective of them, and would call the observatory if one escaped. But as the troop grew, so did the nuisance, and with the observatory short of maintenance funds, nearby ranchers increasingly complained of escaped monkeys stealing food, damaging trees, or just being where they didn't belong. In June of 1994, the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service ruled that this particular troop of macaques was not a protected species.

At least initially, the Texas Parks and Wildlife Department agreed, saying there was nothing in state or federal law forbidding the shooting of feral macaques, because they were classified as an "exotic unprotected species" – as in, you can make a game of shooting them any time you want. It wasn't true – as research animals belonging to the observatory, they were protected in the same way privately owned cattle are protected, even if they escape their ranches. But the TPWD was slow in clarifying the situation, and the damage was done in terms of perceiving the monkeys as fair game – just before the opening of the 1995 hunting season.

Almost simultaneously, the U.S. Department of Agriculture began pressuring the volunteer observatory managers to improve the Dilley facility, citing violations ranging from inadequate monkey housing to failure to construct a secure perimeter fence. The refuge providers moved to acquire a newer, larger facility, but they needed time to raise money, fence the new site, and transfer the animals. While they waited, the monkeys continued to wander – as hunting season opened. With all the media coverage, the monkeys' protectors and the neighbors feared that someone would attempt to hunt the monkeys.

A 1997 National Geographic documentary, Snow Monkeys of Texas, directed by UT professor and filmmaker Richard Lewis, would later confirm that all through the fall 1995 hunting season, would-be big-game hunters were coming into the nearby towns of Dilley and Millet, searching for guided monkey hunts, monkey tags, a monkey lease, monkey ranches, or just anybody willing to let them bag a monkey.

But as the winter months slowly passed, the animals remained safe, and the primate protectors began to breathe easier. It was the last week, and then the last day, of hunting season. And then …

On the final day of the 1995-96 hunting season, the four snow monkeys were shot. They had survived into a second generation as refugees from a sprawling suburb on the other side of the world, but they made the mistake of crossing a fence line in Texas. Five San Antonio hunters, described as guests of guests of people with a hunting lease, were the suspected villains, but for lack of evidence, no charges were ever filed. Too late to help Missy and her mates, TPWD spokespeople finally clarified the legal status of refuge primates. You can't shoot someone else's animals. You can't shoot a trespassing monkey. There is no monkey hunting in Texas.

The martyred monkeys didn't die entirely in vain. The shooting led entertainer Wayne Newton to San Antonio for a fundraiser. Other people gave cash and their time. From its small beginnings in Texas, the primate refuge movement has grown nationwide. Shortly after the shootings, the snow monkeys were able to move to a larger and more secure facility – now known as the Animal Protection Institute Primate Sanctuary – where they live to this day.

Sometimes I Don't Know Why I Even Bother

I sit here in my room and ask myself: "what the heck is my problem?" I had a fight with someone - a friend - tonight, which eneded in my storming away from his car and up the stairs to my apartment complex. I could hear the "Ugh..." coming from behind is rolled up window as I stomped up the stairs I was angy but instantly sorry as well.

I have a guilt complex. Growing up, I was told so many times by a few certain people how rude I was or how mean I was or how [insert negative description here] I was, I started apologizing all the time for things. One my now good friends - ex boyfriend - tells me that I have a tendency to be a doormat. I try so hard to overcompensate for those times growing up that still linger with me that I am overly patient and kind with people when I shouldn't be. I can hear the voices in my head: "you are a hateful and ungrateful child". I don't think that those words have had an impact on my career choice - that is entirely seperate and I have thoughtly concluded that. But, I do think it effects many of my interactions with people.

Whenever I have a disagreement with someone, I feel incredibly guilty. I'm always afraid that the whole thing is my fault, or that I have no reason to be angry. And even when I clearly have a reason to be angry, I cannot be. I couldn't bear, I don't think, for a friend to think badly of me...so I rush to say I'm sorry. When that person doesn't answer their phone I, unlike a normal person, will call 5 or 6 times and finally leave a voicemail only to be worried all evening about how angry they may be with me.

The only thing I think I did badly tonight was stomp off like a four year old, and say "If you don't want to watch the movie just don't come!" Bascially, I have revoked an invitaiton to a friend that would normally be free-standing. A disagreement arising from some comments they made in the presence of our other friends about how they didn't want to watch the Human Trafficking show which premiers this Monday with a couple of others at my house ends with me saying "Fine, you think oppression is funny and you don't want to watch it, don't come." To which my friend replied "But I do want to see it." To which I reply "No you don't, so don't come." Not cool.

But should it really end there? Should my attempts to apologize for being out of line erase the fundamental source of the argument: PROSTITUTION AND OPRESSION ARE NOT FUNNY. They simply are not. And making jokes about it, the show, or me in relation to wanting to see it is not acceptable. I have to find the balance between not being rude to my friends and making sure that apologizing for my behavior DOESN'T change the way I feel about what transpired.

I'm so exhausted. After my afternoon classes were over today, I took a "nap" and didn't wake up until 7:20. It took me a few minutes of wandering around my apartment and for my roomate to mention something to me for me to realize I was late for work. I didn't get dinner so I ordered pizza when I got home. At around 10:30 I called it in. We waited until - well untill now - to realize that it wasn't coming. I'm tired. Jerks. I would've gone to sleep like HOURS ago if I knew it wasn't coming. I guess of course, that's assuming I could sleep...darn guilt complex. But, this blog is the only outlet I need for that...other than prayer. It's almost like I write these entries to God. I know He "reads" them u know? So I think of it as prayer journal...but it's REAL. As real as the Psalms...

I think I could never be a philosopher. I spend way too much time on introspection I think. What would I do if given the opportunity to do it all day long every day? I would most certainly go mad. And to whom would I apologize for that?

Goodnight Lord and thank you for your love and grace. Thank you.

Practical Applications

Perhaps the most disturbing thing about having morals is the realization that they impact real people.

A few weeks ago, I got an email from the Dean's office which talked about the fact that because I was a "student of color" they would love to have my opinion on Pepperdine Law School. I was immediately put-off, and all my sensiblilities about race/ethnic relations were offended. I had a series of discussions with my father, and even posted on this blog about how I felt [I think...although that may not be true.]

Here's one of the e-mails I sent to my father about it.


From: Elizabeth.Alvarez@pepperdine.edu
Subject: Re: I'm so Upset
Date: September 30, 2005 10:41:24 AM PDT
To: abela@hiline.net

You are right dad, I never did live as you did. But I do know so many stories from both you and other members of the family. I understand the need to have the points of view from others. But I do have a question: doesn't it strike you as odd that there are many anglos who were abused and mistreated because of their socio-economic status, but Liberation Theology overlooks them?

I suppose it doesn't really offend me but rather creates a sort of Cognitive Dissonance within me because I just don't know what to say. Truth to be told, I have had MANY experiences that have had a substantial effect on me. There have been multiple occasions when my ethnicity has caused people to discriminate against me. Of course they are not of the same magnitude as the experiences you have had, but I still hesitate to respond to this email

My feelin in its most base form is "Does it matter?" I mean, as long as a I do my work, I've done all I could ever be expected to do I suppose. And I guess I sort of feel threatened by the common assumption that no matter what I do, no matter how intelligent I am, there could always be something to hold me back: society. And this is something that I have little or no control over. It just sort of upsets me u know?

Perhaps I should send them an email saying I couldn't really help them? Or maybe I should send an email to Kenneth Star or Dean Gash or Dean Saxer? I could explain to them why I'm not sure I could help them. On the the reverse side, I think that my socially conservative upbringing would be interesting to them: it might be interesting for them to know that just because I'm a first generation american on your side doesn't mean I think a certain way. It perpetuates in my mind the secret fear I have: that I really AM different, and could never be the same.


But now, now I have an even LARGER sense of cognitive dissonance. Last night while Adam and I were talking as we were cleaning up after supper, I learned that besides just being hispanic, he is the first person in his family to go to College. He has six brothers and sisters, and his mom is pregnant right now. So, soon there will be eight of them and he is the driving force behind getting his family educated. His parents worked hard to give him things but since he transfered here, they don't [can't] help him.

He says he studies so much because for him, "This is do or die. I don't have anywhere else to go. I am so thankful for the money I get because I'm hispanic, because I need it." The words I heard implied there were "Because of my family..."

Who feels like a jerk now?

Maybe I didn't live as my father did but reality shows me that plently Hispanics do. Perhaps they didn't cross the border themselves or live in abject poverty, but they face the hispanic adage: Why are you going to school? Stay here, do what we do, and be happy. Perhaps I don't mind as much as I thought I did...I need real faces of real people for more of my moral conundrums.

I realize now, that my earlier "conviction" on this issue has nothing to do with real conviction - it has to do with pride. I am so determined to make sure that everyone knows that I can do it myself. That is why these things offend me; not because it errodes the moral fiber of America, but because it errodes my pride. If I really wanted to give this over to God, then I would quit caring about what people thought of me. Fundamentally - what does it matter if I go through my whole life having people think less of me because they have this pre-conditioned notion that I had some kind of extra help. Who cares???? If that's what it costs me - a little bit of pride, to bring up an entire ethnic group out of the projects...that's a small price to pay. I need to quit thinking that everything I do I do for myself. My intelligence is God given, as is everything else. Yes I have to work at it to use it, but I shouldn't boast in anything but in Christ.

Growing daily though His grace.

Food

Yesterday morning I took a pie to the Dean's Office. Today I got this email from the Dean of Students, Jim Gash:

From: Jim.Gash@pepperdine.edu
Subject: Pie
Date: October 19, 2005 9:59:41 AM PDT
To: Elizabeth.Alvarez@pepperdine.edu

Lizz,

Thank you so much for your thoughtfulness and baking skills. My family
(and Katrina) loved it -- it was a special dessert last night after
dinner. If the whole law school thing doesn't work out, then you can
always fall back on your baking skills.

Jim



That makes me happy y'all. Apple pie was meant to be eaten by families.


And so is southern food.

Yesterda after the Contracts midterm, I went to the market to pick up meat for supper. Dave, Brendan, Jay, and myself continued our game of risk last night at 6:00 and Brendan was the first one out. I made my huge move out of Australia, sacrificing my army in South America to Dave [who has North America], and took over Asia [thank - you very much]. Plus, while playing risk, I made supper. I made fried pork chops, mashed potatoes, gravy, cornbread [from scratch too], and green beans. It was sooo good. At about 8:30 we quit playing risk and my kids [Debaters] Brendan [different Brendan], John, and Adam came over for supper. Jay stayed with us to eat. The other Brendan and Chelsea went out, and Dave went to Duke's. Supper was great...I'm tellin' ya'll...food makes a difference in people's lives. Mostly, high caloric consumption food...

Security Blankets

I remember this one time [at band camp...no just kidding...I can't even play the guitar with any decency...] whilst I was working on a project for my Western European politics class, I read a book about the cycle of poverty in Great Britian. One section, was focused on the problem of immigration. It talked about how oddly enough, the British underclass wasn't made up of a majority of immigrants [in this case, Indians]. Rather, a majority of the British underclass was white. Interestingly enough though, there were still odd things about the Indian community that the author deemed worthy of talking about.

Most specifically, the author noted that the Indian immigrant community is Britian often tended to cling to more traditional Indian customs even moreso than their compatriots in India. Why would such a thing be true asked the author. The reason, as he brilliantly asserted, was due to what I will term the Security Blanket Effect. Whilst in a different country, the Indian immigrant feels a deeper sense of disconnect from his own culture than he did at "home". When in India, no one questions his heritage or connection to his homeland. So, if he chooses to skip out on some traditions, no one will mind so much. But in Britian, he feels as if his culture is constatly being affronted. So, he clings even more tightly to what could qualify him undoubtedly as Indian. These traditions he might have otherwise abondoned are now his security blanket in a far away land.

As I study far from home, I sometimes wonder if I could make it here in the "west" for 5 whole years. I wonder if I could live not in the South not in the Bible Belt and not with my family and survive. I feel myself ignoring the compulsion to quit saying ya'll. I refuse to stop sayin' "sir" and "ma'am" and still belive that "to sup'" [eat supper] is a verb.

A friend from Tennessee remarked the other day on the way home from Church that he listens to country music more since he came here. And he finds he'll defend accents to the death if need be, even though his might not be as strong as that of our brothers and sisters in Arkansaws.

I wonder what I'm using? Maybe nothing, maybe it's my use of the words "tarnation" and "jack-rabbit stupid" more than often that give away the fact that I am homesick. I don't know. I'm not sure I need a security blanket. In any event, I'd rather have a plane ticket.

My Mother

I really miss my mother. Tomorrow I'm going to the farmer's market to buy stuff to make supper for Sunday evening. I haven't had supper but three or four times since I've been here. Sure I've eaten dinner, and lunched, and supped, but I haven't had supper. Supper is what we eat at home; in the good ol' South where I was raised and where I'll die. [If I have anything to say about it of couse.]

As I was writtin' the email to the Global Domination Club settin' the official date and time of our Penultimate Battle of the Universe for Sunday Evenin' at 7:00 pm. See, we have a group of us here who sort of play what we call "Personal Engagement Risk". {I think I've mentioned this before.) And see, I've decided I was going to cook supper for everyone involved. Mostly because when I cook, it reminds me of home.

Home just isn't McAllen where my parents are, but also Abilene - the last place I called home. I remember all the fun times I had with my friends and crew there. I cooked many a meal for them. Perhaps I should take the advice of a dear friend: "Make this your home, while you're here." I could try.

But as I get ready to go to bed [actually I have another couple hours to go] I decided to make my list for tomorrow. I realized how much I miss my mama. I miss antique stores, and home-made ice cream, and HGTV. I miss learning to make dolls, and needlepoint, and doiles. I miss porkchops with apple sause and bread pudding and fried chicken and potatoes. I miss music at the crack of dawn in Elementary School to wake me up and I miss watching Rachel Ashwell.

I'll never be as good at running a house and workin' as my mama, or as good at being a mom, but I'll sure try. Clean house, good food from scratch, crisp clothes, good table setting, and a big smile. And of course, a good prayer before the good eatin'.

This Sunday supper is for you mama - just like you taught me.

I Miss Mayberry

Pie is the answer to all things wrong with life.

This morning I went down the market. While I was driving through the parking lot, I put my car to a stop to allow an elderly gentlemen to cross the parking lot over to the area where the cars were parked. After he had crossed where my car was, he fell down. Face first ladies and gentlemen, he fell into an island of grass and rocks and flowers. He had to be at least 85, and alone.

No one cared.

Everyone kept on walking, kept on driving.

Everyone.

Everyone except me. After I saw him fall, I stopped my car to help him. Everyone was honking and someone almost hit me trying to go around. So fine, I parked my car and went to find him to see if I could help. None, I repeat none of the people rushing by him in the busy busy town of Malibu, felt the need to help him. I could already see that he had a newly developed hobble and a bruise. As I assisted him to his car, he said he didn't need anything. As I watched him drive away, I cried a little inside. I cried for California - for people who don't have "home" even in a place they have lived in all of their lives. I cried tears of joy for Texas, where everyone would stop for him, and a tear of seperation from my home. All of these tears were only on the inside of course, but as I searched for a gallon of 2% milk for supper tomorrow, they nearly surfaced.

Oh well, I need apples for pie. Ah, pie!! There's the rub!

A dear young man here I have had the opportunity to make friendswith once told me that if I ever got to busy to hang out, he'd just make me a pie. He said because I am who I am, he would never assume at my failure to answer his phone calls that I was ignoring him or otherwise being rude. He would know that I was simply too busy, or maybe ill. If I were ill, he told me, he'd bring me soup. If I were busy he said he'd make me a pie - from scratch. A pie from scratch - that reminds me of Abilene, where we'd make each other pies and cookies and the like. What he said is true, pie makes the busy slow down, it makes the cranky smile, and it makes the lonely belong.

Perhaps that's the key. Perhaps everyone in California is so cranky, and rude, and un-friendly because they don't have pie here.

I hope I have enough flour.

What To Do About Oneself Vol. II

When I guess I must admit that I was wrong, I mean to say I never really knew what it was I wanted. That's not true either I suppose. I suspect that what I really mean to say is that I didn't actually know the full ramifications of what I prayed for.

I believe that I can be fairly certian of the accuracy of the following statement: most people do not automaticallly assume the relevence of a debate about the linear quality of Human Rights along a progressive spectrum to a conversation about their friends only trying to obtain a girlfriend.

Fundamentally, the problem is not that I cannot judge on a sliding scale, or that my friends aren't allowed to make mistakes, or even that I cannot hold them accountable. The real issue is how or why did I notice? Perhaps I am learning the difficult lesson of Christianity [or at least one of many]: that the Christian lifestyle can be silently radical and peacefully radical; but radical none the less. As I grow and slowly obtain the memory of God for oppressed, and seek to see things through his eyes, ever once in a while: I DO. I see things as no other around me does. This means that the general level of discomfort I have is steadily increasing everyday not just about things I see around me, but perhaps even things I say.

I was wrong: discomfort has inherent value. It means I don't belong here.

What To Do About Oneself

Have you ever stoped to thinka bout what makes yourself tick? I often do, think about inner self that is. Perhaps so much so, that it is what makes me tick. Maybe I am an entity that operates entirely on the products and energy from introspection.

My mind is always racing at a pace of 100 miles an hour, and I wonder sometimes if I'll ever be able to stop. I was always taught that introspection is healthy, so I spend time each day thinking carefully about what I have said and done that day, what I think and why. Why did I have that argument with that person? Why did I feel naseaus at that thought or comment, but not at that one? Why did I say that word or those words? Why did I cry? Why do I weep?

Let's talk about an example. So tonight, Tommy showed me a website that he says he makes use of sometimes when he is boerd. I mean, it's harmless enough. It's just sort of a community switchboard website, so you can get information about garage sales, community events etc. There is of course, also the requisite dating for singles category. He told me that sometimes he goes to the dating for singles, searches for women aged 20-25 and then, and after he gets results, begins to read some of the profiles. Ok, so fine. But here's where something that was said really bothered me: he says that he clicks on the one's with photos, looks at their photos, and if he likes it, he'll read their profile.

That really bothered me. Why?

Let's talk about linear theory here for a second. So, we begin at point "A" where no woman anywhere is objectified. The ending point, point "Z" is where women are enslaved in a world of complete mysoginy. Now, as theory would predict, every point of increasing objectification moves us farther along the linear progression toward complete opression in the woman-hating world. So, what is it that makes point "B" different from point "Z" or even point "M"?

What's the difference between joking about the "Old Ball and Chain", oogling women at a bar, using their pictures to make decisions about their worthiness, and chosing girls from a catalog in Thialand? What's the difference between paying women less for their labor by 75% than men, and making them wear burqas? The simple answer? Everything. The difficult truth: nothing.

Because mysogeny and the opression of women is a linear progression there truly isn't a difference. Each one of the abuses is worth an extra point as we move towards the end of the alphabet because we are farther along in linear progression. But, each indiviudal abuse is only worth one point, one movment along the line: one unit of injustice. This is incredibly difficult for us to comprehend becuase we don't wish to excpet that severe oppression is linked to the jokes we tell at the water cooler. But if it is true that freedom and equality are both subjectively and objectively valued, then we must accept what Martin Luther King Jr. truly meant when he uttered that "and injustice committed anywhere is an an injustice against everyone"

Something as little as saying "I will only read their profiles if they are cute" may not immediately create the same scale of maifested oppression as the Taliban in Afghanistan created for its women citizens, but it is on the same scale of injustice in that it is on the same linear scale of hatred towards women.

That's true, ok. So why does it cause me to be so conflicted? So this allows me to say that Tommy is the same as a sex trafficker or patron of a child brothel? That doesn't sit well with me. But the truth of the matter is that the exact same phrase with the same mindset uttered elsewhere has HUGE ramifcations. Uttered in a room while going through a catalog of Russian mail-order bride prospects in the Ukraine, those same words sicken us because their context gives us enough of a sense of disgust that we would feel the same whether or not they had said a single word.

But then I guess I have to admit that I was wrong.

The Words To Say

Have you ever heard the song "Speak For Me" by Jaci Velasquez? Consider some of thse lyrics:

What have I to offer to a world in need
Yet for some unknown reason
You have chosen me
Lord, you've set my journey
You've prepared the way
Still I'm desperate for the words to say
All I am is willing
All I have is in your hands
Speak for me, this my plea
Say the words I can't express
Sing for me, a heavenly melody
that the people will be blessed
Speak for me

This coming Sunday I am supposed to speak for a Church Youth group about Justice, and I seem to have lost my words. I am visiting Tommy at Walnut Creek, and his youth group will start their journey to learn about God's Justice this Sunday. He ordered the "Justice Mission" ciriculum for his kids [as any good youth minister should] and will doing an introduction to the study this week. It is my job to introduce the basics of God's Justice. What is it? Why should we care? Why don't we normally care? I usually have so much to say on the subject but as of now, have almost nothing.

I am on a breif 4 day vacation from Law School and couldn't be happier about gettiing to spend time with him here. But I will tell you one thing, I am absolutely exhausted. My brain is completely toasted. In order to avoid studying for my Crim Law Midterm on Tuesday, or even work on my lesson for Sunday morning, I have been cleaning Tommy's office. [And as those of you who have seen it know, it's not as if it didn't need it...u know?] So compeltely toasted am I that I am not sure how to communicate the wrenching in my heart I feel for God's love of the oppressed.

How do you even start? Do I start with startling statistics? A quote that strikes people's hearstrings? Do I ask them where thier shirts come from? None of these seem to be appropriate. It seems almost wrong to communicate what I truly believe to be a theological concept by tugging on people's heartstrings to get them to listen. Perhaps that's all one can do though.

What verses am I supposed touse? The Psalmic Triad? The charge of Isaiah? The True Fasting Doctrine? THERE IS JUST SO MUCH...

But God will come and sit beside me and the spirit will give me the words if I could just be still and remember HIm. That's it, the memory of God. That's the key. I know now where to begin...

Adam

Perhaps not all know of the story of the discovery of my faith; my "faith story". I was raised in the Church of Christ, and was baptized very young on June 10th, 1996, at the age of 12. It's not that I wasn't a faithful Christian, but that I hadn't yet discovered what that which was to make my faith my own.

I remember when I was a senior in high school. I knew I wanted my major to be International Relations. I knew I had a passion for those in other countries who were suffering. I had just completed my 1 year internship with a local attorney, and for my senior capstone had authored legislation for the United Nations creating a court to try Diplomatic crimes, thus abolishing the traditional understanding of diplomatic immunity. My parents quizzed me carefully before I left home to make sure that I was choosing the right major. I was. But I didn't know why...

Freshman year at ACU, I was alone and confused. I still hadn't found the manifestation of my choice to something about the state of the world. I met a boy, his name was Jason Mida. He was my first college debate partner, a senior, and the president of the Student Government [The Students' Association - SA]. I didn't want anything to do with ACU's social life in any way shape or form. It wasn't until he introduced me to IJM, that made the difference. That's another story for another time. But IJM and God's call to seek His justice as per the suffering of the world made my faith my own.

I always wondered what it would be like to change someon'e's life forever. Would I be able to tell?

I met this wonderful young man here at Pepperdine. He's an undergraduate from Passedina. I must confess I do not know much about him, and yet, I know enough. Let me tell you the story.

I met Adam at debate practice the first week of school. And alhtough I knew he was on my team and part of my small section [parli/limited prep/CA], I will admit that at subsequent team meetings I - sorry for the pun - didn't know him from Adam. But all that was soon to change. Some three or four weeks ago, our parli debaters had their first tournament. My compatriat coach for my small section, Gavin, was already at the tournament so it would be my job to drive the kids up for the weekend. Adam was the first one to show up at the meeing area, and the first one to put his stuff in the car, and the last one of my kids I will ever forget. While waiting for the other kiddos to show up, Adam began to ask me questions about why I decided to go to Law School in the first place. I asked him if he was sure he wanted to hear all about it After assuring me he did, I breifly told him about the calling God has placed in my heart to rescue the oppressed and protect the weak and the helpless. ***Now, let's just take a break from this story to say that I often try to exercise a measure of self-control when talking about my thoughts on God's concept of Justice. I recognize that most people simply don't want to hear about, at least not to the degree I'm willing to tell them about it. I feel the twinge of in my heart to comment on so many everyday statements I hear [such as "I'm starving" - no you're not: children in Africa are though...], and yet I try to restain myself. I loud and constant gong soon becomes white noise thereby ceasing to sound the alarm when danger approaches. But for Adam, this small tidbit wasn't enough. He wanted to know more. *** Although I certainly didn't ignore the rest of my charges, as Adam rode shot-gun to the tournament, we talked of Justice. After I checked them all in and fed them, and went to my room [FINALLY, AFTER EIGHT YEARS OF DEBATE MY OWN ROOM!!! HECK YES!!!!], soon there was a knock at the door. Adam was there, wanting to know more.

And of course, I was ready and willing to tell him more. He walked out of my hotel room that night with a copy of Gary Haugen's book "Terrify No More," a puzzled look and a thirsty spirit. It had begun.

Adam and I stayed up talking just this past Tuesday night from 9:30-1:00 am. And when finally we realized what time it was we were both awed. It seemed so strange that we could talk for so long so effortlessly. The only answer I have for that is: It's a God Thing.

Adam and I have talked multiple times since that night, about God's Justice and other things. I know that Adam's favorite colors growing up [and still] are pink and red. He's half Mexican [on his mom's side - his dad is Italian] and grew up here. His extended family lives in Brownsville believe it or not. He is a triple major in Philosophy, Communication, and Political Science. He loves C.S. Lewis, and Southern cookin'. He could listen to Al Green & Lionel Richie forever. His mom is Catholic, and his dad was disciple of Christ. He's never seen Office Space or House, never kissed a girl, and never been to Africa. He is most afraid of: getting Alzhiemers or some other dehibilitating disease. He loves to read, but never read Kafka. He is intrigued by the South, and thinks that my accent is quote "distinguished" [I have an accent...what do y'all think?] He thinks that the most attractive thing in the opposite sex [and about himself] is Chkristianity. After all, he says, what else matters? What else indeed Adam...

It is in this spirit I think, that we seem to get along so well. He is just like me - mixed blood and raised in a culture of mixed signals. But like me as well, Adam seems to have put all that and the identity crises that arise therein behind him in search of a greater identity: the one he has in Christ. So I wonder, why is it that he so readily grasped onto the concept of Biblical Justice we talked about?

I found out on Tuesday night that somewhat like me, Adam has a passion for the oppressed and the afllicted. It turns out that without knowledge of another way to manifest this passion, he almost joined the peace corps. After his parents "talked him out of it" he relinquished that had simply yet to find that which God has chosen for his calling. When he heard about IJM, he said, he just knew. He was finally able to put a name on a calling; a goal to a purpose, a destination for his journey. So much so in fact, he called home and told his parents about what he had learned, and what he could do and would do for those he had longed so desperatly to help for so long.


"I know dark clouds will gather round me. I know my way is rough and steep. But golden fields lay out before me, where God's redeemed shall ever sleep."

These words from ZOE's woeful "I Am A Poor Wayfaring Stranger" are what landed it at the number two spot on my iTunes mix "My Justice Quest Vol. 1". I have carefully become aware of how difficult it is to have a different world view. It isolates me and my thoughts from the pervasive ebb of society's pop culture flow. It is sometimes lonely. The week and a half before we graduated from ACU, one of my dearest friends, Layne Rouse, and I were talking late in a car after having seen a moview that poignantly reminded us of "Justice". Somehow the conversation got around to what we would be and what we would do. Eventually we both came the realization that my vocational choice could cost me my life, and very likely would. "I know you'll always call when you leave the country, and when you come home again. But I also know that one day the calls will stop." And yet, somehow I feel oddly at peace. Giving up my fear of death and secuirty and even of bugs and a world without Sonic to God pulls me so close into Him, that there is no safer place I could be. Facing danger and uncertainty by the terms of the world is certainty of purpose and life in God. This is my meaning for "he who shall gain his life wil lose it". So be it. The eye of the storm is always the most beautiful

And yet, I do not wish to say that God intended for us to be creatures without community. That is simply not true. The ever popular creed of the "deer-blind" Christian, that "I don't need a Church body or fellowship, God and I got this covered" will not suffice. As i listend to Adam's words I felt comforted the same way a weary traveler does when, whilst resting at a crossroads in the dark, he realizes that the ominous figure in the distance is not a threatening nightmare, or even worse, a person who's gaze he wil not catch, but another weary traveler looking also for the same unmarked path.

God is amazing. There really is not much else to say on the subject. Still, there is so much more.

The memory of God.