Your Mom Not Mine

Making the Clackity Noise →

Last week, some friends and myself went to see Rob Bell speak about creativity. But more specifically, creativity that stems from suffering.

One of the points he made was that God uses suffering to create by elimination. And to illustrate that point, he handed out bars of soap to us and showed us pictures of sculptures that others made from their soap. His point was that there were rabbits or crosses or hands or faces inside each of those bars of soap. It was up to us to eliminate the parts that weren’t rabbits or crosses or hands or faces to get those pictures out of there.

Merlin writes about this fantastic idea (click the link at the top of the post). That inside of everyday objects there are stories and art and things that make us smile. Inside of bars of soap there are sculptures. Inside of puddles there are photographs. Where there’s an open car window, there’s music. And inside of keyboards, there are stories. Its up to us to pull sculptures and photographs and music and stories out of there.

I’d post just an excerpt of what Merlin wrote, but it wouldn’t give you any clear idea of what Merlin (or myself) was trying to say. So, just go read the damn post, and start writing. I know I want to. And I know I’m going to.

Maybe, right now.

My dad has worked in agriculture all my life, and as any Midwesterner knows, that means he has driven a pickup truck my entire life. That meant we were ALWAYS given the luxury of sitting in the front seat with dad. My brother and I would fit over who had to sit in the middle, but man, we both got to sit in the front seat, and that was the important part.

When we were 5 or 6, my dad would take us during the summer out to the fields with him to see the combines or crop dusters or whatever huge piece of farming equipment was out there that day. I remember he’d play this joke on us as we were driving though. He would shut is right eye and then pretend that he was starting to fall asleep as he drove. Of course, we couldn’t see his left eye, so, being 5 or 6, we would think he really was falling asleep. I can’t tell you how scared out of my mind that left me.

I think I’ve told my wife that story 13 times since we started dating. Its crazy to me how those little things like your dad playing a stupid joke on you when you’re 6 stick with you like that.

But they do, and wouldn’t life suck if they didn’t?

My thoughts on Fever

I’ve been using Fever for about 3 days now, and apart from some small problems, I’d have to say I’m very impressed. After my initial problems with it, I’m starting to see it for what it is, and I can fast see it becoming my sole feed reader.

The way I use(d) Google Reader

I started using Google Reader maybe 2 or 3 years ago, back when using an RSS reader was not something done by the masses (it still isn’t). I’ve experimented with some other readers, mainly Vienna and NetNewsWire, but have always come back to Google Reader after some time. I enjoy the portability of it, but it was always lacking something.

See, my problem with feed reading is I like to subscribe to things, but I can’t read it all. I just don’t have time. I’ve fluctuated from reading close to 350 feeds, down to about 90, and currently, I’m back up to 150.

All of these feeds don’t necessarily update everyday, but some update every 10 to 15 minutes, and that just leads to feed overload. The volume is high, but is it actually saying anything?

What’s a Fever got to do with a feed?

This is where Fever comes in. Yesterday, Shaun Inman introduced us to Fever. I’ve been using Shaun’s Mint for my site stats for quite a while now, and I’ve loved it. I like that its self hosted, meaning I have complete control over it. I like that its simple, I like that it tells me what I need to know at a glance, or I can drill down and see a nice granular view of what’s going on in my sites. Most of all, I like that it is a beautiful interface.

Fever does the same thing, but for my feeds. I can start out with a quick overview of what’s happening and then drill down if I want to read more.

But wait Jim, what are you talking about?

Fever works like an automated Digg mechanism, where I choose the content. ALL the content.

(As an aside, I’ve always really loved the idea of Digg, I just hate Digg itself. )

When you load up Fever, you’re presented with a view of all of the “Hot” items contained in your feeds. Fever looks at links from your feeds, and when they are matching, it promotes that link.

You also have 2 new folders that contain all of your feeds. Kindling, which are the feeds that you would consider your must reads, and Sparks, which are the high volume, low content link blogs.

Personally, for me, this is exactly how I like to read, and it makes finding my content even better. In Google Reader, I had one set of feeds tagged as my must reads. These were the feeds I started with every time I loaded up Reader, and then dug down from there.

What are now called Sparks are all those feeds that I regularly ignored for days, then clicked “Mark All As Read” when the I realized there was no way I was going to get to them.

What’s it look like?

Now this is where Fever really shines, the interface.

I’m using Fever as a standalone Fluid.app on my Mac at home (Shaun created a really nice icon for it too), and as an Google Chrome Application shortcut on my PC at work. It looks beautiful in each place.

In each place, it runs just like a desktop app, although not quite a snappy. I feel like these are limitations by my server and connection. Otherwise, it feels great.

Even better though, is using Fever on an iPhone. Shaun has coded Fever in a way that when it’s set up as a web clip, it runs almost exactly as a native iPhone App.

And that’s where the interface REALLY shines. There’s no address bars or status bars to deal with. It gives you your information in a concise, beautiful way. And, best of all, for a web app, it is FAST.

Is it worth paying for?

For me, after only 3 days, I would say unequivocally, yes.

A couple of caveats though:

• If you don’t already have a webserver, I don’t know if this will be worth it to you.
• Make sure you have a good web server. I initially installed on Dreamhost, and boy, was that a mistake. Fever was painfully slow. I then moved over to BlueHost, and I’ve been happy.
• If you’re reading style doesn’t mesh with this, then you probably don’t have a need for it. For example, if you’re only subscribed to 25 or 30 feeds, not worth it.

Finally, Like Shawn Blanc, I’ve posted my OPML file right here, so if you need some help populating your Fever.

Our Moment

I haven’t been excited by a political candidate, well, ever.

2000 was interesting to me. My first election, a contested battle, Ralph Nadar, etc. But nothing that excited me.

Same thing in 2004. It was exciting, but I was in Scotland at the time, and most of the excitement stemmed from the fact that I was an international watcher of an election now.

But this year, with Barack Obama, things were different. I remember when he ran for Senate, how exciting it was to see him speak at the 2004 DNC. I still think that’s one of those speeches that will be looked back at as a defining moment of American political history.

He, of course, was elected in a landslide (it helps when your first opponent withdraws because of a sex scandal and your next opponent is Alan Keyes). Nevertheless, he excited us in Illinois.

Soon after he was elected, he came to Bradley to announce a piece of legislation he was sponsoring to support Pell grants to students. They of course put him in a small room at the library, but that room was packed to the gills with people standing far into the library. It was another exciting time to be there. I got my picture taken with him, talked to him for a few minutes, and knew that this man was the future of America.

Well, when he announced his presidential candidacy 2 years ago, times were right. He faded into obscurity (as so many candidates do that soon after their announcement) and didn’t come back until the beginning of the year with the Iowa caucuses. That was when the excitement started.

You know the history from there. I did some phone banking, donated some money, and cheered him on from afar.

But then it started looking like not only would he win the nomination, but he might beat John McCain as well.

About a week and a half ago, my friend Joe called me to see if I wanted to go to Indiana to knock on some doors and get out the vote. I jumped at the chance, and so on Saturday, November 1st, he, I, and two other friends loaded up the car, drove to Indianapolis and canvassed for about 5 hours. We knocked on about 300 doors in some low-income areas of Indianapolis and each talked to lots of wonderful people. Its one of those experiences that just connects you with everything. We talked to people who had never voted before, but were giddy from excitement over the whole prospect of voting for Obama. We talked to people who had been voting for many, many years, but had never had someone they truly believed in. We talked to one old man who took 4 minutes to get to the door. He was 83 years old, and when we knocked on the door, we saw him through the window. He had to put down his food, put in his oxygen, and then walk to the door. The whole time, Joe and I felt like horrible human beings when we knocked and made him do that. But when he opened the door, he did nothing but smile at us. He told us he was going to vote for Obama and that his union was going to pick him up on Tuesday to bring him to the polls. We did run into some people who were not pleased to see us, but 99% were so gracious and thankful for the work we were doing.

Fast-forward 3 days to November 4th. Elizabeth and I were lucky enough to get tickets to the rally in Grant Park. It was an amazing experience. We went with friends from church, got down there at 6:45 and the party had started hours before. We got in line, waited to get in, and the atmosphere was festive.

People were getting results on their cell phones, and whenever a state was won, it would spread through the crowd. Soon, we were making our way inside. After going through checkpoint after checkpoint, we found ourselves positioned on a hill near the back of the ticketed area. Before us spread a see of more than 100,000 people with some screens showing CNN. Whenever a state was called for Obama, the place went nuts.

Slowly we saw the electoral votes ticking up and up. We allowed ourselves to hope and believe that it might be time for our guy to be president. Soon, Ohio was called and the realization that this might be happening was coming in. We cheered, talked, wondered about the possibility. All of a sudden, at about 9:50, we heard them say they were ready for a big projection on CNN. Everyone stood and watched with just the most rapturous stares.

Virginia was called. It was over. We just needed to wait until the polls closed in California, Washington, and Oregon for it to be official.

The minute 10:00 pm rolled around, the entire field of 125,000 erupted in cheers, tears, hugs and joy. I cannot honestly think of a single time that I have been surrounded by so much emotion in my entire life. It was impossible not to be swept up in it.

So we celebrated, and celebrated, and celebrated.

After 15 minutes or so, the screens showed John McCain up there. This was the moment we had waited for. His speech, while not the best any of us had ever heard, was gracious, kind, respectful, and exactly what the country needed. It was amazing to be in the middle of this field full of Obama supporters, and to have it so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Everyone watch McCain with attention, respect, and admiration. It was very indicative of how everyone felt regarding this whole campaign. It was a time for us to come together with everyone around us. After he was finished, we just wanted to wait for Obama.

When the announcement came “Ladies and gentlemen, the next First Family of the United States of America” the place went nuts. We were about as far back as you could be and still be in the ticketed area, but the feelings from the stage made it all the way back to us. Obama’s speech was equally eloquent, gracious, and somber. I can honestly say that it’s a moment I will never forget. After he was done, we made our way onto the streets of Chicago, and I have never seen so many people in my entire life. Everywhere you looked, there were throngs of people walking the streets, celebrating, enjoying the evening. I never felt threatened the entire evening, it was such a peaceful crowd. You could just tell everyone was happy to be a part of the moment. I later heard that only seven people were taking away because of injuries, but none were because of violence. It was amazing to be in the middle of so much history.

I look forward to the day when my kids and grandkids learn about Barack Obama in history class, and I can tell them that I helped him get elected, and I was there the night that he was. I talked to one of my coworkers, who is 73 years old, and he said that he thinks this is the most important moment in American history that he’s been alive for. I’m thankful that I had the opportunity to be a part of it.

Why this Monday does not suck

Monday’s suck. Most of the time. This Monday though, has not sucked. Here is why:

1) I got up early enough to make my own coffee in my French press (thank’s Eric and Emily) instead of drinking the filth here at work.

2) When I got to work, there was a blueberry coffee cake type thing that tasted, well, divine.

3) Elizabeth called me and surprised me with another cup of coffee and a muffin.

4) Caleb sent me these two articles (Op-Eds actually): No, Actually, It’s that the Economy is Falling Apart by Joe Klein and Palin and McCain’s Shotgun Marriage by Rich Davis.

5) John McCain got Barock-Rolled

Izzy

When Izzy came to us, she wasn’t much of a dog.  More of just some skin and bones (literally).  She had soul, and she had love, but physically, she was nothing.
Actually, I need to back track.  She didn’t come to us, she came to Elizabeth.  I was out of town when she officially became the dog of the house.
I am not sure exactly the dates, or how got to that point, but I remember the day we met Izzy well.  Elizabeth and I went to the shelter to look at options, but Elizabeth had said that she didn’t want a dog right then.  Walking through the halls of the shelter, looking at the dogs in their cages was intimidating to say the least.  Hundreds and hundreds of dogs barking at us.  Collies, Pit Bulls, Labs, everything you could imagine.  But there, in the corner of a too small cage with another too active dog was this little doughnut of whitish tan fur.
I looked over at Elizabeth, and I think at that moment she knew that I wasn’t leaving without that dog.  We asked to take her out for a little walk around the grounds of the shelter.  Izzy was dirty, smelly, skinny.  Basically everything you don’t want in a dog.
And yet, she seemed perfect.  She walked with us that cold January afternoon, shivering, while Elizabeth and I talked about whether it was a good idea to take her.  We were sitting at a picnic table I remember Elizabeth saying “I don’t think she’ll make it home”.  I basically told her that if she didn’t take Izzy, I would have to.  At that moment Izzy trotted over (she has a tendency of doing that) and propped her head on my knee.
You can’t write a cheesier scene than that.

Joy

I’ve been listening to Rob Bell’s messages from Mars Hill Bible Church in Grand Rapids for over a year now. I’ve quoted him a few times in this blog, but never have I really spent time and listened to one sermon so closely (nor wanted to share it with others).  The message was simply about Joy (specifically, about Joy during the Christmas season). 

Anyway, the thing that really provoked my interest in this message was his one quote. He mentioned a man who said that his life was rough. I’m sure that you know this person. We all know this person.He’s the guy who complains repeatedly over little things. The woman who can’t seem to find a way to see what really matters in life. Nothing is ever enough for them (and not in a good way either).

So Rob asks this man, “Do you have children?” and he replies, “Yes”. Then Rob asks, “are you healthy?” and he replies, “yes”. And then he asks if his kids are healthy, and this man replies “Yes, but…”

There shouldn’t be a but after that exchange. Meister Eckhart said “If the only prayer you say in your life is Thank You, that would suffice.”

I really can’t think of any words that have rang truer. We have become a society that believes that nothing is ever good enough, nothing every works for them. But we fail to see the joy in life. Maybe if we praised a little more and griped a little less, the world would be a better place.

I’m not saying that you need to be a Christian to do this either. Perhaps it is as simple as (and I know this is extremely cliched) stopping and smelling the roses. Look for a little good in life. Thank God (or whomever) that you’re alive, and that people love you, and that you are not a failure. These are simple things that anyone can do and I promise you, it will work for you.

So maybe at Christmas, instead of thinking about the lines at the shops or the snow that you have to shovel, think about the fact that you have some money and time to stand in those lines or that you have a shovel and a driveway to shovel.I know I will be thinking about those things.

“Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.

And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.

And how else can it be?

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.”

-Kahlil Gibran

What would you do?

So, reading about the problems in Myanmar made me think about a question that I think a lot of us ask, but cannot answer.
What would you do? What if you were in Burma right now? Or in Germany during WWII? Or anywhere else where an oppressive regime is dictating the way to act, live, speak, etc.?
Would you stand up and say something? Would you walk the streets in protest? Would you resort to violence?
Or would you do nothing?
I would like to say that I would stand up, walk the streets, and protest. But in reality, I would likely do nothing. I can’t explain why. I’m not a coward who doesn’t say what he believes because of scorn. But imagine living under that regime for most of your life. Or being in a vocal, but very small, minority. You know what is right (I hope) and would hopefully do something…

But would you?

The Times, They Are A Changin’

Yesterday was my Great (in many ways) Uncle Harry’s memorial service. I’m not sure how I feel about memorial services, but the things that come with them are fantastic. Seeing my second cousins Sean, Ryan, and Luke (whom I haven’t seen in 6 or 7 years), sharing memories. It was fantastic. First time since I was born that there were the 13 cousins in my dad’s family together.

I just wish that my family can be like that someday.

The Bears

WOW…. Rex Grossman is really bad. He’s even worse than last year.

3 fumbles in 10 snaps or so… its just pathetic.

I am sitting here watching American Idol (yes, I know….) and I could offer you paragraph after paragraph about why I haven’t updated since November 30th, but I won’t. I actually want to comment on two things. First, this American Idol has some “Idol Gives Back” thing, and I am all in favor of that. The thing that I don’t like is that there has been this commercial playing. I don’t even know what its for, but it just aggravates me so much. Its got that Fergie song “Glamorous” (which is a horrible song in the first place), but its completely playing up how wonderful it is being rich. Lots of bling, etc. Now, I’m not one to harp on people for having money. But in the middle of a show highlighting poverty, it was a little tasteless. Granted, living for money is a bit off in my opinion… but I feel like it was completely awful to see this commercial. (by the way, as awful as American Idol is, they did raise at least $30 million, so I give them some props for that).

The other thing I wanted to comment on really quickly was the Virginia Tech massacre. Actually, I want to have Tom Engelhardt have his comment (I encourage you to go to his site to read it, its followed by a great piece by John Brown):

Last January 16th, a car bomb blew up near an entrance to Mustansiriya University in Baghdad — and then, as rescuers approached, a suicide bomber blew himself up in the crowd. In all, at least 60 Iraqis, mostly female students leaving campus for home, were killed and more than 100 wounded. Founded in 1232 by the Abbasid Caliph al-Mustansir, it was, Juan Cole informs us, “one of the world’s early universities.” And this wasn’t the first time it had seen trouble. “It was disrupted by the Mongol invasion of 1258.”

Just six weeks later, on February 25, again according to Cole, “A suicide bomber with a bomb belt got into the lobby of the School of Administration and Economy of Mustansiriya University in Baghdad and managed to set it off despite being spotted at the last minute by university security guards. The blast killed 41 and wounded a similar number according to late reports, with body parts everywhere and big pools of blood in the foyer as students were shredded by the high explosives.” The bomber in this case was a woman.

In terms of body count, those two mass slaughters added up to more than three Virginia Techs; and, on each of those days, countless other Iraqis died including, on the January date, at least thirteen in a blast involving a motorcycle-bomb and then a suicide car-bomber at a used motorcycle market in the Iraqi capital. Needless to say, these stories passed in a flash on our TV news and, in our newspapers, were generally simply incorporated into run-of-bad-news-and-destruction summary pieces from Iraq the following day. No rites, no ceremonies, no special presidential statements, no Mustansiriya T-shirts. No attempt to psychoanalyze the probably young Sunni jihadis who carried out these mad acts, mainly against young Shiite students. No healing ceremonies, no offers to fly in psychological counselors for the traumatized students of Mustansiriya University or the daily traumatized inhabitants of Baghdad — those who haven’t died or fled.

We are only now emerging from more than a week in the nearly 24/7 bubble world the American media creates for all-American versions of such moments of horror, elevating them to heights of visibility that no one on Earth can avoid contemplating. Really, we have no sense of how strange these media moments of collective, penny-ante therapy are, moments when, as Todd Gitlin wrote recently, killers turn “into broadcasters.” Like Cho Seung-Hui, they go into “the communication business,” making the media effectively (and usually willingly enough) “accessories after the fact” in what are little short of pornographic displays of American victimization.

Finally, articles are beginning to appear that place the horrific, strangely meaningless, bizarrely mesmerizing slaughter/suicide at Blacksburg — the killing field of a terrorist without even a terror program — in some larger context. Washington Post on-line columnist Dan Froomkin caught something of our moment in his mordant observation that, at the White House Correspondents Association Dinner the other evening, with the massed media and the President (as well as Karl Rove) well gathered, “the tragic Virginia Tech massacre required solemn observation and expressions of great respect, while the seemingly endless war that often claims as many victims in a day deserved virtually no mention at all.” Los Angeles Times columnist Rosa Brooks took a hard-eyed look at the urge of all Americans to become “victims” and of a President who won’t attend the funeral of a soldier killed in Iraq to make hay off the moment. (”It’s a good strategy. People busy holding candlelight vigils for the deaths in Blacksburg don’t have much time left over to protest the war in Iraq.”); and Boston Globe columnist James Carroll offered his normal incisive comments, this time on “expressive” and “instrumental” violence in Iraq and the U.S. in his latest column. He concluded: “Iraqi violence of various stripes still aims for power, control, or, at minimum, revenge. Iraqi violence is purposeful. Last week puts its hard question to Americans: What is the purpose of ours?”

Sometimes, in moments like this, it’s actually useful to take a step or two out of the American biosphere and try to imagine these all-day-across-every-channel obsessional events of ours as others might see them; to consider how we, who are so used to being the eyes of the world, might actually look to others. In this case, John Brown, a former U.S. diplomat, one of three State Department employees to resign in protest against the onrushing war in Iraq in 2003, considers some of the eerie parallels between Cho’s world and George’s. Tom