Inkless

Pottermore

2012-01-08T19:57:00.000-08:00

“Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?”

—Dumbledore

I’ve never read the Harry Potter books, but last summer I watched all the movies in the space of a few weeks. Last night I rewatched Deathly Hallows Part 2 and spent an hour afterwards reading about various plot holes/details. And I understood how people could and did get drawn into that world of Hogwarts. (I might have been among them but for The Lord of the Rings.)

But what I really wonder is this. All those fans who love the story and write wikis about the spells and charms and don’t want to say goodbye to the characters—the fans who would presumably enter that world if given the chance—why would they not fully embrace the unseen “true magic” of Christ? (I’m now speaking of fans of any fantasy epic.) Why would such fans not take seriously the true supernatural—that there is indeed great power and transcendent forces and self-sacrifice and love?

Of course it is self-sacrificing love that forms the most powerful force in Harry Potter. Yet we will not believe that same kind of love in our own world. If we feel that we would stand with Neville Longbottom and the others to defend Hogwarts—if only we could have magic castles and wands—will we not stand guard over our own souls? Why? Why will we not fight for something we cannot see?

I’m sure there are other Christians who, like me, would admit to being more moved by the sight of Gandalf riding out to face the Nazgul than by even the most haunting Good Friday service. We ache for beauty; we wish we had a heritage and home to defend; we wish for the camaraderie that is only born of deadly peril. At least we think we do.

What would we really think if Harry and his gang broke into our world? If we were faced with a mission that would certainly mean death? Would we not want to slam the book shut? Say that such things belong in stories, not in real life? We prefer the Muggle world. The world that says transcendence belongs only in your head.

In the end, we will find it is real.

“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, and the sign that the things not seen are true.”

—Hebrews

New Start

2011-09-11T18:34:00.000-07:00

For the second time in less than a year, I am writing from a new home: this time only a few miles away from my previous abode. This has been a summer of stressful circumstances: an unexpected move and atypical work projects top the list. But such goodness has accompanied me through all of it that I can't help but feel, as I'm writing from a new laptop in a new apartment, that this fall marks a new start.

Perhaps it's the seventeen plus years of an academic schedule, but September is more of a new year for me than January. Suddenly the library seems like the place to be. I have an urge to surround myself with books, notes, and maybe a paper to write.

But of course, little of that enthusiasm is left when I get off work (which, oddly enough, involves surrounding myself with books). I did give myself a "research project" for the next few months (or however long it takes to satisfy my curiosity/college nostalgia): looking into first-century Judaism (and whatever Jewish-history bunny trails I follow along the way).

Another new start began when a manuscript I edited last week rekindled a desire to be around horses. I am planning to volunteer at a local therapeutic riding center, possibly take a few riding lessons to see how much I remember, and maybe lease a horse a few months down the road.

We'll see.

Homesick

2011-04-15T21:59:00.001-07:00

This post has been marinating in my brain for several months now; no doubt it will end up saying less than I wish.

But, given that my fellow 2010 MA Publishing students officially graduate tomorrow, my thoughts again return to England and Oxford, and I have to admit that I'm homesick. That's not to say I don't enjoy Colorado and my work here. On the contrary--lately I've started taking walks in the evenings when I get home from work, and the beauty of the Rockies makes me stop and stare every time. The crisp air tinged with woodsmoke. The fleeting sight of deer running like shadows over a neighbor's lawn. The rugged, undiluted Western beauty of this place cannot be denied.

It is still not home, though. Even when I was in England, I tried to figure out what made me love it so much. The best way I can describe it is peace between you and your surroundings. It's almost as if that place has a personality, that it understands you, reaches out and touches you.

Recently I read a question in a book-discussion guide. It asked if you would be willing to die to defend a piece of land. Would it be your country? State? The home you grew up in?

I've been listening to The Grapes of Wrath on CD as I drive to and from work, and Steinbeck's description of the land...the land your ancestors have bled and died on, the land you've worked with your bare hands, that has fed you and your family...that is land you will fight and die for. That land is part of you.

I guess the closest thing I have to that is Oxford.

Motivation

2011-01-19T21:31:00.000-08:00

I know, two posts in two days...what is the world coming to?

But I feel strangely motivated to write. No doubt this will be short-lived...but here's one thing I hope is not.

Tonight I went to a discussion group hosted by a few members of the Anglican church I started going to a couple months ago. The group is loosely based around the books Radical by David Platt and Christianity Beyond Belief by Todd Hunter. I found this time immensely refreshing on several levels. Following a challenge from David Platt, several people in the group are reading through the Bible in one year.

So I decided I want to try. There's several reasons, probably, but foremost is that I am not doing a very good job without a plan. Last night I spent about thirty minutes reading Gods and Generals and about thirty seconds glancing at the Psalms before I decided to go to sleep. Also, and this is slightly concerning to me, but I am the sort of person who likes lists and plans. I like getting a syllabus at the start of a class--marking off the reading chapters, knowing exactly how much I have to accomplish and when in order to reach a goal. Now I readily admit that is often a weakness. You can't chart out a relationship, especially with God, in this way--ticking off chapters is no sign of real commitment or change. But even relationships have their disciplines and habits. And I've neglected this one long enough.

So here's to motivation, and the chronological reading plan I'm starting...now.

Light

2011-01-18T19:56:00.000-08:00

Candles are forbidden in dorm rooms. On both sides of the Atlantic.

So in the last few months, after moving into a real house, I've been making up for lost time. Early in December I bought one of those evergreen-scented candles, one of my few attempts at Christmas decorating.

I've been in the process of settling into a new room, and along with a bedspread and bookshelf, I bought a candle that I burn nearly every night when I get home. What's interesting to me, though, is why a little flame in a glass jar is so appealing to the modern homemaker/newly hatched college student. It serves almost no practical purpose. My bedside lamp provides all the light I need, and if I want my room to smell like sandalwood, I can buy Febreze and not bother with matches and lingering hints of sulfur.

Why the entire aisles devoted to candles? Like a real wood fire, why do they mean cozy, romantic, comforting ... even mysterious?

Is it nostalgia--a longing for a past time? Yet I'm sure none of us seriously want to go back to lighting our homes with oil lamps. If it is nostalgia, it is very confined. Odd how the old-fashioned things become luxuries ... candles are far less efficient than light bulbs. Baking bread costs more than buying it. And don't get me started on ebooks.

We'll move past the 40-watt bulbs, too. But even then I doubt they'll gain the allure of the candle. There's something about the living flame.

Hello, Wild West

2010-11-06T16:56:00.001-07:00

The new blog design reflects a similarly drastic change in my own surroundings.

A week ago I left Washington State (after only about 20 days at home) for a new job in Colorado Springs. It's with a Christian publisher called David C Cook, and truly, I could not have designed a more ideal "first job." It's exactly what I've wanted to do ever since I was 15 and discovered the world called publishing. In many ways, it's the culmination of many years of study, both as an English major at Grove City College, and my somewhat strategic pursuit of a Digital Publishing MA at Oxford Brookes.

I'm overwhelmed with how quickly God brought me to this next stage, and how He continues to demonstrate His absolute and intimate knowledge of me. Of course the transition was hard -- I expected to have several months back in Washington to catch up with friends I hadn't seen since I left for England. But in other ways I think this is for the best.

Sitting at my desk this week, I had to laugh when I realized that I am being paid to read and edit books all day. And not just any books -- books that have a deeper purpose than the publisher's profit line or tuning out the world for a few hours. Of course there's nothing intrinsically wrong with those things, but it is deeply satisfying to know these books have the potential to communicate the love and truth of Christ, to transform their readers.

And maybe their copy editors.

Goodbyes

2010-09-17T03:29:00.000-07:00

With a sigh
You turn away
With a deepening heart
No words to say

You will find
That the world has changed forever

The trees are now turning from green to gold
And the sun is now fading
I wish I could hold you closer

(Howard Shore, "Arwen's Song")

The End is Near

2010-08-16T04:58:00.000-07:00

In just over two weeks I will hand in my major project and freedom will commence. After spending most of July and the first part of August locked in the computer lab, I'm pleased the ebook files I've created are working! Earlier today I was able to read one of them on an iPad...very gratifying.

I'll be leaving England and flying back to Seattle on September 20th...a bittersweet prospect. But I have most of September to say my goodbyes and pack in as much travelling as possible, including just over a week in Ireland. I'm going to take a two-day horseback riding trip around the Dingle Peninsula, then spend a few days in Dublin, Belfast, and surrounding areas.

On the day I fly out, I will have spent exactly a year and a day in England. Oxford will never again be just a word on a page -- I know it now. And part of me will never really leave -- or maybe it's better to say part of it will never leave me. You can never really go back once you've been so touched, so changed by a place. Although changed might not be the right word. Renewed, reborn, restored to what I thought was lost and dead.

Before I left the States I wrote a post about time and how it puts more distance between me and my best memories while carrying me into unknown trials. In those months I dimly guessed that there might be good things ahead, but in my mind they would never live up to what was gone. If only I could have known how every joy of the old days would be swallowed up and fulfilled in what lay ahead.

I will not fear time again. It might bear me away from Oxford, but I'm still on my way home.

Switchfoot says it better.

From the Trenches

2010-07-11T07:56:00.000-07:00

Apologies again for the long break.

The July sunshine is streaming through my window, making my keyboard hot to the touch. People who say it rains all the time in England obviously haven't lived here in the summer. It has been an idyllic one with long hot days and peaceful nights. Last week was the 4th of July, which obviously isn't recognized over here by the Brits, but nonetheless there was a carnival in a nearby park that some American friends and I co-opted for our own celebration.

Most of my time is now consumed with my major project (on ebook construction) and job hunting. Both are draining and frustrating processes at times. I've had to confront my various reasons for wanting to stay in the UK and the practical/emotional call of returning to the States. All that to say I still don't know where I will be living in two months, which is definitely a new experience for me -- so used to having life planned out months/years ahead. It's an exercise in trust and remembering the thousand ways God has proven His love and care over the years. How can I not trust that the same Father who brought me here to Oxford will lead me to the next phase of the adventure?

Last year I received a special graduation gift from some dear friends -- a book of Puritan prayers called The Valley of Vision. Various passages from this book have spoken to me over the months, but today I wanted to share the end of a prayer called "Contrition."

"In all my affairs may I distinguish between
duty and anxiety,
and may my character and not my
circumstances chiefly engage me."

That prayer reflects the same desire that awoke in me when I read this description of Brother Lawrence in Practicing the Presence of of God (find a copy and read it!) :

"He was neither hasty nor loitering, but did each thing in its season, with an even, uninterrupted composure and tranquility of spirit."

That's what I hope to do and be in my (possibly) last few weeks in Oxford...and with the rest of my life.

A Thousand Words

2010-05-24T13:20:00.000-07:00

Classes have been over exactly one week, and today I started back on my major project with considerably more enthusiasm than I expected. I must admit, I got used to writing about publishing for my class blog, so if some industry ramblings show up here occasionally, that's why.

Over the weekend I wrote a little piece for the Brookes website about my experience of the course so far. It was good to reflect on the last eight months, for despite my frustrations with myself and the course in general, I am incredibly grateful for my time here.

A picture is supposed to be worth a thousand words, and I would need at least that many to give you a proper update. So here are three.

Easter Sunday in the Scottish Highlands

Loch Ness

Spring in Oxford

Arise, my love, my beautiful one,
and come away,
for behold, the winter is past;
the rain is over and gone.
The flowers appear on the earth,
the time of singing has come
Song of Solomon 2:10-12a

Freedom

2010-05-17T04:51:00.000-07:00

It has been too miserably long since I've written to attempt a proper catch-up, so I'll just jump right back in media res.

I'm sitting in the computer lab right now finishing my last bits of coursework for the year. Freedom is nearly here, and I intend to fully enjoy the summer holidays. However, my thoughts are beginning to turn to what I'll do in September, when my major project will be finished and I'll find myself facing the world beyond Oxford.

One of my many hypothetical plans is to get a publishing job in Scotland. (I visited it for the first time over Easter and can definitely see myself living in Edinburgh.) BUT I just discovered a rather discouraging article that said one of the very publishers I was interested in (St Andrew Press) is "on the brink of closure." There is a glimmer of hope, however, in that one of the executives of Publishing Scotland said the industry "is moving to digital, publishing on demand, or the internet and blogs."

Maybe this MA in Digital Publishing degree will be enough to earn me a spot in Braveheart country?

Hello Love

2010-02-14T15:33:00.000-08:00

“Love itself is our most selfish emotion.”

That’s the gist of an article that somehow ended up on my Google News alerts this week. So in the spirit of Valentine’s Day, here’s my rebuttal.

This is the author’s argument: “When you love someone it is purely to satisfy your ego. . . Every expression towards those you love is also a mutual trade between two people for reciprocal advantage and to regard love as sacrificial or altruistic makes it, and the relationships that result, pointless and contemptible.”

When I got over my initial irritation at this statement, it struck me that HE’S RIGHT. Love, as understood and practiced in our culture, is all about self. Romance is a cycle of emotion in which happiness is contingent upon how good the other person makes us feel.

Interestingly, this view of love fits perfectly with Richard Dawkins’s claim in The Selfish Gene: “Now they [the genes] swarm in huge colonies, safe inside gigantic lumbering robots... They are in you and me; they created us, body and mind; and their preservation is the ultimate rationale for our existence.” In an atheist, postmodern culture, love is simply what we call the relationship between two sets of genes using each other to reproduce. All the flowers, chocolate, lingerie…just natural selection marching on.

So why, if you read this article to your date tonight, would you get a slap in the face? Because, at our core, we know that love transcends self. It’s not just Christian tradition that asserts itself here. A quick review of popular films reveals the same theme. Consider the sacrifices in Band of Brothers, We Were Soldiers, The Dark Knight, Schindler’s List, even Terminator. On the girl side, think Titanic and Twilight. All involve putting your own desires and even life aside for the good of another.

Why this dichotomy? Why do we recognize that love SHOULD be selfless, yet remain trapped in self-interest?

I think it’s because we’ve mistaken human love for what it’s supposed to point to. Yes, love can deliver some of the best life has to offer: companionship, passion, understanding, pleasure, and the rest of the Valentine’s Day adjectives. But inevitably, something breaks down. Love fails, leaves us empty or broken. We become cynical, convinced that romance is just two people using each other, ready to move on as soon as the deal isn’t mutually profitable.

The fact that love cannot completely satisfy—even though it brings great joy—I think points to a far deeper reality. We were created for relationships, not just with each other, but with God. Only he offers the perfect love and faithfulness we crave (even though we may mock it). His love is unconditional, unearned, constant. Why he desires us is a mystery, but he does. We were made for his delight and to delight in him. And love is what he did to win us back. “This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers” (1 John 3:16).

Selfless love happens when we realize we are already loved perfectly. It’s not selfish to desire joy—the problem simply comes from looking in the wrong place. The best of human love offers a stunning picture of God. When we turn from the picture to the artist behind it, only then do we know Love.

As usual, C. S. Lewis says it best:

“We were made for God. Only by being in some respect like Him, only by being a manifestation of His beauty, lovingkindness, wisdom or goodness, has any earthly Beloved excited our love. It is not that we have loved them too much, but that we did not quite understand what we were loving. It is not that we shall be asked [in heaven] to turn from them, so dearly familiar, to a Stranger. When we see the face of God we shall know that we have always known it. He has been a party to, has made, sustained and moved moment by moment within, all our earthly experiences of innocent love. All that was true love in them was, even on earth, far more His than ours, and ours only because His.”

Back to the Books (Bodley style)

2010-01-21T09:44:00.000-08:00

Well, I'm back. To Oxford that is, if not to lectures (those start February 1).

Mom and I enjoyed a whirlwind two and a half weeks travelling around England. She was here between December 22 and January 13 and we certainly covered a lot of territory. It was amusing to count the number of transportation methods we used (many of them in a single day): bus, underground, train, taxi, private vehicle, and of course walking. Lots of walking.

My favorite part of the trip has to be the three days we spent in the Peak District. We came to the Peaks directly from the bustle of London (Boxing Day sale at Harrods...NOT a good idea). After a very long day of train delays and waiting for buses in the dark, I can't describe how good it was to arrive at Hartington Hall, a 17th century manor house turned youth hostel. The glow of the fireplaces through the window welcomed us in from the cold, and the home-like beauty of the house itself could only be matched by the surrounding countryside.

The hostel often reminded me of the Prancing Pony from Tolkien's Lord of the Rings. In stark contrast to our London hotel, where we spent the evenings cloistered in our room with the television, at Hartington we joined a merry group of wanderers clustered around fireplaces with books, games, and pints of ale in hand. Tolkien's words regarding Rivendell, The Last Homely House, perhaps best describe it: 'a perfect house, whether you like food or sleep, or story-telling or singing, or just sitting and thinking best, or a pleasant mixture of them all.'

Our departure from Hartington was accompanied by many wishes to return. I still have much more exploring to do in the Peak District.

It seems unfair to skip over the rest of our English travels, but suffice it to say we both enjoyed the time immensely and were very sorry to say goodbye when it was time for her to fly back to Seattle.

Yesterday, though, I set off on a new adventure: to get my Bodleian Library card. Oxford University has kindly deigned to allow us Brookes students access to the reading rooms and 8 million volumes in the library's collection. Before obtaining the 'Bod Card,' that golden ticket of Oxford legitimacy (it also allows you access to certain colleges), I had to collect multiple signatures certifying that I was on a course of 'serious study' and solemnly read the Bodleian Oath before an admissions officer:

'I hereby undertake not to remove from the Library, or to mark, deface, or injure in any way, any volume, document, or other object belonging to it or in its custody; nor to bring into the Library or kindle therein any fire or flame, and not to smoke in the Library; and I promise to obey all rules of the Library.'

The admissions officer then reminded us that no one is allowed to take books out of the library, and that the last person who asked to do so had his head cut off (Charles I was beheaded in the English Civil War, but not by librarians). With this warning in mind, us four Brookes students took our newly minted cards to Radcliffe Camera, probably the most recognized and certainly most photographed reading room of the library.

Walking proudly past the 'No Visitors' sign, we had our bags searched and then headed up the massive spiral staircase. Once we reached the first level, we ascended a tightly-wound metal staircase (the kind every library should have) to the 'Upper Camera' gallery, where nothing separated us from the great dome but shelves and shelves of books.

I wish I could have taken a picture to show you the inside, but you'll just have to imagine. We settled down at desks and pulled out the reading material we brought along, dutifully taking notes and every once in awhile glancing up in delight. Picture a Little League baseball player suddenly set down in the middle of his favorite team's stadium. That's something like how I felt. Amazement I was actually there, and inspiration to tackle my studies with renewed enthusiasm.

It often seems most of my life is online. It's where I study, stay in touch with friends, and find out how to defrost chicken. Even though my course is digital publishing, I crave the the sense that my studies are grounded in something real, that they're part of a larger conversation and the rich history of books epitomized by the Bodleian.

That's why I'll be back many times this next semester. Laptop in hand.

English Christmas

2009-12-19T15:27:00.000-08:00

I made it.

It's Christmas break and time for a long-overdue update. For the past few weeks (how they've flown!) I have been busy creating

1) an editorial proposal for a new book
2) a marketing plan for an online finance publication
3) the design and layout for a natural history book

not to mention taking exams, attending conferences and a few odd lectures here and there.

But those aren't the only reasons I haven't updated. Franky, it's hard to sit in front of this screen and distill life into a few coherent sentences. Especially when Facebook surfing or watching BBC 'Life' beckons from the next Firefox tab. But reading some of my friends' blogs just now has inspired me...

On Tuesday my mom is flying in from Seattle to spend Christmas and the first part of January with me in England. It will be my first Christmas away from home and without my dad. Almost all of my international friends are going home at some point. Why am I not?

I don't know how to say this without sounding unfeeling, ungrateful, and unpatriotic, but not for one single day have I been homesick. And you have to understand earlier this year I dreaded leaving Washington. I left a beautiful home and friends and family I love dearly. I still love them just as much, and after this course I'll be plenty happy to return to the USA.

But in the 9 months remaining, I don't want to do anything but soak in this place. The delight of England has not worn off and there is so much more to see. Mom and I are going on our own version of the 'grand tour,' including London, the Peak District, Windsor, Bath, Southampton, and of course my own Oxford. Last night, after handing in my last project of the semester, I could not help skipping a little as I crossed Magdalen Bridge into the city. A whole month of freedom stretches before me, and what better place to spend it?

If publishing is a language, this has been a total immersion experience. Just a few things I didn't know 12 weeks ago:

how to use InDesign and Photoshop
what XML is
the meaning of 4/0 CMYK sheet fed-printing on 120 gsm paper
how to write an editorial proposal
what the heck all those marketing people want anyway

We've come a long way. I am so proud of everyone on this course. Their creativity and professionalism humble and inspire me.

For a few weeks though, it's time to look at books like a normal person again. Not dissecting the potential market, author royalty, and design elements. Just as creations to be enjoyed, given, loved.

All in time for Christmas.

Home Is Where the Coffee Is

2009-11-06T15:44:00.000-08:00

Flying into London with fireworks exploding over Big Ben. That was my homecoming to England after spending three days in Germany for the Frankfurt Book Fair.

The time in Frankfurt (my first trip to mainland Europe) was great. The book fair itself was very eye-opening as to the sheer size of the industry. It was also humbling being in a country where I spoke the foreign language! I've never really appreciated just how central language is to identity, both personal and national.

So returning to England was a homecoming on several levels. The nearly two months I've been here have flown by -- I can't believe it's November. Last weekend I went to the seaside with the postgrad group from my church. It was great hanging out with everyone in the beautiful scenery and goofing off. Let's just say there was an impromptu performance of "The Lion Sleeps Tonight." And real American s'mores. (It was funny seeing the British people try them..."what's a graham cracker? Is it like a digestive?")

Coursework is starting to get intense, which makes breaks all the more important. One friend has set up a Wednesday pizza and movie routine--so far we've devoured Dominos and watched Shawn of the Dead (hilarious) and V for Vendetta (perplexing).

Today was my first time in a Starbucks since moving here. It was dark and miserable outside. Rain coated the streets. Then I stepped inside and the familiar red cups and warm lighting instantly welcomed me home. They were playing Viva la Vida.

And just another reason England is awesome: the baristas here ask if you want your drink for here or to go. My friends and I sat in big comfy chairs drinking Toffee Nut Lattes out of REAL MUGS!

Does that happen in Seattle? I think not.

Goodbye Academia, Hello Retail

2009-10-11T14:25:00.000-07:00

As I was catching the bus into town today, a sign caught my eye. It was an advert for my university touting "education for livelihood" rather than "education for life."

My English-major heart cringed at this, because I still believe education means more than the top line of your resume. But I admit, the vocational focus here has been a welcome change.

I'm studying publishing, which, let's face it guys, is all about SELLING BOOKS. Yes, hopefully they are quality products that will enhance someone's life. But at the end of the day, publishers care as much about the bottom line as any other company. And after 6+ years of studying literature, I find that oddly refreshing.

My courses are Editorial Management (finding/refining books that will sell), Design & Production (making them look good), and Marketing (convincing you to buy them). So not much of an ivory tower here. But of course Oxford has enough mystique of its own. Yesterday was beautiful, so I took my books to a nearby park and stretched out on the grass. This was my view.

So yes, I'm finding that livelihood and life combine quite nicely.

Enter England

2009-09-25T12:40:00.000-07:00

I'm finally here! This week has been an insane rush of setting up my room, going to course orientations, and meeting people. A few random observations from my first days in England:

- There are NO pickup trucks. I didn't see one on the whole trip from Heathrow to Oxford.
- The UK really needs Fred Meyer. I've been running all over Oxford to find bedding and kitchen stuff.
- People in England and Ireland don't refrigerate their eggs. Seriously, I was at the grocery store today and the eggs were on a shelf with the cake mixes.

There's been so much going on I haven't had much of a chance to properly explore Oxford. We didn't have internet for the first several days so it's a bit hard to drag myself off the computer right now. But I'm going into the city tomorrow and will take lots of pictures so you can see my new home.

There are 80 students in my publishing program. Only about a third of them are from the UK, with the rest coming from the EU and elsewhere (I am one of five Americans). I was very excited to meet someone from South Korea last night who has also worked with InterVarsity Press and is interested in Christian publishing. We've been informed that "publishing is the booziest industry in the UK" and there are plenty of social events to attend! Our modules (aka classes) don't start until next week, but we've already met the tutors and had IT workshops. Everything looks uniformally challenging and exciting.

It's been easy meeting people since we're all in the same boat starting at a new university. My flatmates are splendid, and I already found a church thanks to a wonderful former publishing student who befriended us newbies. So life has been good.

My goals for the year are to become a competent and employable member of the publishing world. But more so -- to get out of my head and relish this amzing place and people.

Soli Deo gloria.

Frodo Lives

2009-09-05T23:12:00.000-07:00

I swear I'm not reverting back to adolescence. Well maybe just a little bit. But indulge me this once and maybe we'll get somewhere...

Back six years or so ago I was a die-hard, completely obsessed Lord of the Rings fan. I'm not ashamed to admit it now, it was perhaps excessive. I didn't become anti-social or anything, but I could quote frighteningly large portions of the movies by heart and knew the difference between the Quenya and Sindarin languages.

Maybe you can relate to the feeling I had after the last movie came out. While I loved it, it wasn't too long until the story lost its power. I had lived in that world for too long and it didn't mean anything anymore. Real life took over. I grew up.

A couple nights ago, for some reason, I pulled out my massive boxed set of the LOTR dvds and started watching the "making of" features. Seeing the joy these people had in what they were creating, the intense camaraderie, was like rediscovering something I didn't even know I lost.

It was hope. The hope that good prevails, that friendship endures, and that the most pain heralds the most joy. That MY adventure is just beginning.

That I'm heading to Oxford is purely coincidental.

;)

Time

2009-08-26T20:40:00.000-07:00

Have I mentioned that I hate time? Most days it feels like an enemy. It attacks on two fronts, putting MORE distance between me and the good old days and LESS distance between me and whatever trial is coming up next.

I was complaining about this to my mom a few days ago. Then at my friend's wedding on Saturday, the pastor talked about time (I was the maid of honor so I was standing right next to him).

He talked about embracing time as a gift. (Yeah right, I thought. If only it came with a receipt.) He talked about how it's a natural rhythm meant for our benefit, and that we can abuse time with either extreme busyness or procrastination. And of course that we should make time for God and (if applicable) our spouse.

It got me thinking that my fight against time is not only futile, it's pretty selfish. The desire to go back to the best years of my life (cue Bryan Adams) is all about a time *I* felt good, connected, whatever. It shuts me off from other people and being part of their lives.

Not to mention it's pretty stupid. Sure there are trials ahead--I hate thinking about saying goodbye when I leave for England. But I wouldn't be going if I didn't think there were good things waiting too.

On earth we can only live in the present. But I think the feeling that time goes by too fast, that we can't get enough out of each moment, is different. To me, it's pretty good evidence the soul was made for somewhere else.

The Bard, Brides, and BMWs

2009-08-02T21:38:00.001-07:00

On Friday night I drug my grandma, two cousins, and cousin #1's girlfriend to the free performance of Shakespeare's Richard III in Redmond. It's definitely one of his most confusing plays, so I was really pleased they enjoyed it. And seeing it outside surrounded by families with picnic baskets is truer to what drama was like in Shakespeare's day. (Who needs a stuffy theater and textbooks?)

Saturday we hosted my dear friend's bridal shower, and afterwards I attended my first minor league baseball game at Cheney Stadium in Tacoma. It was fun sitting closer to the action (at Mariner's games we're usually in the nosebleeds) and spending time with friends. And let's face it -- the difference in game quality isn't THAT drastic.

This afternoon I spent with my parents looking at BMWs/convertibles. My dad hasn't bought a car in 21 years (that's right, ever since I was born), and right now (for a "toy") he's considering a convertible as an alternative to the motorcycle he's wanted for awhile. The argument being a convertible gives you more options and keeps you out of the rain.

Speaking of motorcycles, I'm reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig. Sometimes I only make it through a few pages before I have to stop and digest. He manages to balance the philosophical abstractions (i.e. rethinking the nature of reality) with the grit of a cross country motorcycle trip. Both of them are intriguing enough to keep me going.

The summer is going by too fast, but after this 100+ degree weather, England is sounding pretty darn good.

City Lights

2009-07-20T22:50:00.000-07:00

Despite this blog's title, I don't live in Seattle. More like 45 minutes south. Sue me for false advertising if you want. Tomorrow, however, I'm spending the day in the big city. It's 11pm right now and I plan to leave at 6am to get the Early Bird parking specials. Yeah, we'll see how that goes.

For once, I'm going to Seattle without any agenda. I am just going to wander through whatever streets and doors I feel like. It's good practice for Europe, besides a chance to actually get to know the city I've admired from afar.

Driving up I-5 and coming upon the Seattle skyline at night, for me, feels like that moment in The Return of the King when Gandalf and Pippin ride up and see the city of Minas Tirith for the first time. There's a kind of beauty of lights and towers that crowns and complements even natural beauty.

Cities make me feel alive and connected to something bigger than myself. For someone who definitely gets trapped in her own head, that's a very good feeling. Tonight, interestingly, I ran across this passage:

You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven. - Matthew 5:14-16

How often have I lived under a basket, peeping out only when I know other lights are around. Or hid out of fear that when the basket is removed, there won't be any light.

It only comes from one city.

"There's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo."

2009-07-10T16:48:00.001-07:00

It sucks being careful with personal information on the internet. I wish I could tell the whole story here, but let's just say for the last week I've been facing potential identity theft.

Those fears were (mostly) put to rest today by an anonymous person who returned the missing item. There are still questions as to what happened. But overall I am wiser for this experience -- and very grateful. Not only to whoever returned it, but to the friends and family who prayed.

God does hear. And he does have my back.

Sometimes I forget.

Connection Lost

2009-07-03T21:14:00.000-07:00

In his book Against the Machine: Being Human in the Age of the Electronic Mob, Lee Siegel attempts to expose the dark side of the internet. I found most of the arguments less than compelling -- for instance that excellence and originality are sacrificed for popularity. That's always been the case.

Then he started talking about porn.

"The consummate vicarious endeavour, it thrives on and guarantees anonymity. Pornography transfigures other people into instruments of your will . . . you can mentally manipulate them without fear of rejection or reprisal."

Fair enough, but then he says:

"Pornography and technology are joined at the hip. They both transform the reality outside your head into means whose sole end is convenience." "Technology is a blessing . . . but it will not lead you to other people as finalities, as ends in themselves existing outside your needs and desires."

Through technology, he argues, the world shrinks down to just one person: you. So when you chat online, or read a Facebook profile (or blog), are you interacting with a real person? Or does the detachment of the internet allow you to see whatever you want?

But really, who needs the internet's help to do that? It's hard to think of a time I've treated someone as an end in themselves. Perhaps the internet just reveals the essential problem of "being human" after all.

God Doesn't Need a Debate Team

2009-06-21T21:54:00.000-07:00

Tonight I watched a movie called Lord Save Us From Your Followers. It's subtitled "Why the Gospel of Love is Dividing America" and tied into several things I've been thinking about.

When I was a teenager I went to a Christian apologetics camp and learned how to "defend" my belief in God, the Bible, etc. As part of the camp we'd talk to people on the street about religion. It was pretty much about convincing people that Christianity was a more valid worldview than whatever they believed in.

I'm all about conversations and intelligent dialogue--that's why I want to go into publishing, because ideas MATTER and impact people's lives. But, as quoted in the Lord Save Us movie, "No one ever converted to Christianity because they lost the argument."

In John 15 Jesus says, "If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love."

When I read that, my mind immediately jumped to moral codes. Don't get drunk, swear, or have sex outside marriage. But he didn't say that. He didn't even say to practice apologetics on people until they convert. He said, "this is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you."

Was Jesus about defending doctrine? Or about love? About rules? Or about love?

Now how exactly I'm supposed to love others like he did I don't know. The embarassing thing is I don't really try. But has anyone come up with anything better to strive for in life?

Lame

2009-06-18T21:29:00.000-07:00

You'd think a person interested in publishing would actually devote time to something important, like, keeping up a regular blog. But no.

All this England/Europe stuff is getting a tad overwhelming. I'll be submitting my visa application in the next few days--it'll be a relief when all that is over. I have to go downtown to get my "biometrics" taken--a laser scan of my fingers and face (not smiling!) as part of the UK's anti-terrorism methods.

I'm also trying to figure out where and when to visit in Europe. France, Italy, Switzerland, Ireland, and Scotland are on the must-see list. I'm not so sure about Germany, Spain, and eastern Europe though. My great-grandparents came from Romania, so maybe I'll try to dig up my ancestral hometown.

All this and I'm trying soak in these months at home. Oxford will be great, but I have to admit part of me dreads leaving.

Reading Disorder

2009-05-08T21:58:00.000-07:00

My eyes are bigger than my stomach. Especially when it comes to books.

Thanks to the local library system, I indulge myself with armloads of books I couldn't afford. It's only slightly more likely that I'll read them all. For instance, I came home today with

The Children of Hurin -- J.R.R and Christopher Tolkien (as a proud LOTR freak in adolescence, I need to at least attempt this)
The Year of Magical Thinking -- Joan Didion (recommended at the writers' conference as an example of a great memoir)
Taliesin -- Stephen Lawhead (another conference recommendee. Looks a bit D&D, nerdy-homeschooler-type, but I'll give it a shot)
The God Delusion -- Richard Dawkins (cause I figure it's good to read what atheists actually think, instead of reading rebuttals to them)
The Dawkins Delusion -- Alister and Joanna McGrath (for dessert)

I admit, I bought my mom a book for Mother's Day. But at least I'm making brunch too.

Woot for Student Universe

2009-05-06T18:33:00.000-07:00

I just bought my ticket from Seattle to London for a STEAL off Student Universe, quite possibly the coolest site on the Internet. My official departure date is September 18.

Maybe when the charge comes through on my credit card it will start to seem real.

Nonversation

2009-05-04T22:31:00.000-07:00

From the Urban Dictionary...too good not to share:

Nonversation: A completely worthless conversation, wherein nothing is illuminated, explained or otherwise elaborated upon. Typically occurs at parties, bars or other events where meaningful conversation is nearly impossible.

Smith: What a waste of time it is talking to that guy.

Jones: I know, every time I do, it's like a complete nonversation.

- - -

Is there an equivalent word to describe a blog post?

Spying on Authors: a wannabe editor goes undercover

2009-05-03T21:05:00.000-07:00

This weekend I attended a Christian writers’ conference, at which the average attendee had a good 25 years on me. But I stood out for another reason: I don’t write.

Amid the mostly middle-aged women with their manuscripts, I had my eyes on the Simon Cowells of the conference: the editors. These guys send the thousands of rejection letters that dash the publishing dreams of writers everywhere. But win them over, and your book might see the light of Borders.

Throughout the conference, one thing became clear: hundreds of writers face a market that demands not only verbal artistry, but a marketing platform of speaking engagements, a loyal blog following, and “personal branding.”

While I don’t have the fortitude or creativity to be one of them, I left the conference with a new appreciation for authors. Writing comes slowly to me, and marketing my ideas sounds terrifying. But standing behind a great idea and becoming an advocate for that unpublished book —that’s why I want to join those “bad guys” known as editors.

Holding Out for a Hero

2009-04-04T21:41:00.000-07:00

After spending 1,168 pages with Atlas Shrugged, I figured I owe Ayn Rand at least a blog post!

I agreed with many of Rand's economic points. Atlas was even a good read, (albeit her philosophical arguments got repetitive). It's a novel of the Übermensch, which makes Rand's statement in the "About the Author" section even more intriguing:

"I trust that no one will tell me that men such as I write about don't exist. That this book has been written--and published--is my proof that they do."

The men she writes about are superheroes who achieve perfection not through self-sacrifice, but self-interest. In Rand's world, justice reigns over mercy and love must be earned. Yet somehow she manages to make this look appealing. Throughout the novel, I found myself asking why.

I think it's because she has so many things right. Take this passage for instance:

"There are two sides to every issue: one side is right and the other is wrong, but the middle is always evil. The man who is wrong still retains some respect for truth, if only by accepting the responsibility of choice. But the man in the middle is the knave who blanks out the truth in order to pretend that no choice or values exist, who is willing to sit out the course of any battle. . . . In any compromise between good and evil, it is only evil that can profit" (1054).

Ayn Rand is no relativist. I think she's wrong in her conclusion that mankind can achieve its heroic potential apart from God. But she's consistent. And the picture she offers of humanity at its fullest--discovering, inventing, exploring, delighting in life and each other--isn't very far off from what God intended all along.

Update!

2009-03-26T20:48:00.000-07:00

I have about three excuses for why I haven't been posting, but I'll just launch into the news instead:

1. I'm moving to England in September to study digital publishing at Oxford Brookes University (it's IN Oxford, but it's not THE Oxford you're all thinking of ; ).

2. I'm working full-time coordinating interpreters for medical appointments. My days are never boring! It's fast-paced and requires constant focus. I'm really enjoying stretching myself (and often floundering around) in an entirely new area.

3. I discovered I loathe taxes! Nothing bites like that first paycheck from a new job. Haha.

One of the more memorable events of recent weeks was sitting in Starbucks watching my cousin's baby daughter and looking up to see two policemen putting handcuffs on the man who had been sitting in front of us. What is the proper etiquette in that situation? I tried to refrain from staring, but couldn't help a wide-eyed, amused look at my fellow coffee-drinkers after they'd left.

Reading Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand has me thinking more about politics. She has quite a few things right, although her perspective is completely humanistic. If I were still in college, I'd write a paper comparing her novels to those of Flannery O'Connor. Hmm. Wonder if I could twist that into a dissertation topic somehow...

Recession = Depression?

2009-02-24T13:28:00.000-08:00

Call me naive, but I find the idea of an economic downturn vaguely exciting.

I say this hesitantly and with deep sympathy toward anyone who has recently lost a job or a house--I know the recession's consequences can be tragic and undeserved.

But on a national and personal level, I think this season of "tightening our belts" is a wholesome thing.

Maybe it's the increased sense of community that only comes from shared hardship.
Making sacrifices that ultimately strengthen us.
Rediscovering the role of work--to provide material needs, not to validate our existence.

During college, I unconsciously relied on my grades as proof that I was "worth something." Out in the real world, however, that proof is usually linked to a job--a salary--a corporate title. When you don't have one, it's easy to feel like a loser.

But just like a good GPA isn't a guarantee of happiness or success, neither is a prestigious job.

And in this economic climate, that's a good lesson to learn.

The Shack Factor

2009-02-17T13:24:00.000-08:00

About a month ago I read The Shack, the controversial bestseller by William P. Young. I'm not going into a detailed analysis here, or trying to make a call on the book's theological validity (which would certainly be arrogant and probably erroneous).

But as someone pursuing a career in Christian publishing, several things fascinate me.

First of all, I'm just going to say it--the book is poorly written. Think 8th grade creative writing class. A cliché every other paragraph and characters about two inches deep. (I didn't know until today that the book was originally self-published. See this article for more.)

So here's a book that breaks just about every rule of good writing, but shoots to the bestseller list and impacts millions of lives. People who love this book, love this book. It seems to most deeply touch those dealing with grief--I originally read it because a friend told me how much it had helped in the healing process.

This is exactly why I want to work in publishing--to bring people closer to God through words. And also why The Shack fascinates me. What makes it successful on this most important of levels? Or is it successful at all?

Some suspect that the God presented in the story is not the God of the Bible, but a dangerous piece of mystic universalism. I understand both sides, and though I didn't find the book spiritually misleading, I'm not handing out copies after church either.

But if this book is bringing people closer to God, I want to know why. And the bigger question--can Christian bestsellers retain any credibility in the crush of consumerism? Or will The Shack go the way of The Purpose Driven Life--complete with wall-hangings and embroidered pillowcases?

God-state

2009-02-13T20:07:00.000-08:00

Like a lot of people these days, I've been paying more attention to the news. I catch bits of talk radio or see the headlines about the stimulus plan or Obama's latest press conference.

The last two weeks I've also visited my parents' small group, where they've been discussing the role of the state. One of the points went like this:

-When we view human nature as essentially good, we turn to socioeconomics as an explanation for evil
-Thus, the role of "saving" humanity falls into the hands of the state, which is supposed to improve social circumstances, income, healthcare, etc.
-Ultimately the state becomes a surrogate God

Now I get this. What bothers me more is that Christians buy into this idea in a different way. We turn to the state to legislate morality (and get piping mad if it doesn't), rather than focusing on how we are living and influencing others.

I'm not saying Christians shouldn't lobby to overturn Roe vs. Wade or oppose gay marriage. But I think there's a problem when we invest more energy in changing a law rather than changing lives.

This is a controversial one--I welcome debate.

It's a big, bad world out there

2009-02-04T17:38:00.000-08:00

Actual reports from the Police blotter of our local newspaper:

Burglary: Victims, their numbers and genders a police mystery, reported their residence burglarized of items not disclosed, resulting in some amount of loss, equally unknown.

Theft: Two dudes, one white, the other black, stole a plasma television from Walmart. They left in a red van but were not located.

Well at least they knew the gender that time.

--

Right now I am standing with my laptop at the kitchen counter, hoping the pork roast I have in the oven doesn’t dry out. The cookbook suggested serving it with hot applesauce, which reminds me of Sunday dinner at Grove City.

Update on grad school: On Monday Oxford Brookes University emailed me to schedule (the British pronounce it “shhedule”) a phone interview. That proved slightly difficult, since out here on the west coast we are 8 hours behind the UK.

I am almost hoping that a) I will not be accepted, or b) it will be way too expensive to go.

Ugh. Someone pinch me.

Breadmaking

2009-01-26T19:30:00.000-08:00

I told my mom last week that I would like to make all our family’s bread, assuming this would be both more economical and enjoyable than buying loaves from the store. So on Thursday I made my second batch of bread ever—a whole wheat loaf, only slightly sticky in the center.

My confidence bolstered, on Saturday morning I set out to make two loaves of white bread—the only kind my dad will eat. After dissolving the yeast and mixing the ingredients, the real fun began with kneading. Curving my fingers around the warm dough, I pressed down with the heels of my palms, then rotated the sticky lump in a quarter turn as I folded it. Press, turn, fold. My hands and fingers slowly recovered an ancient rhythm.

Then the tricky part—waiting for the bread to rise. Our house is notoriously cold, so I shut the dough in a tiny downstairs bathroom that stays warm (though definitely not the recommended 80-85 degrees). After the first successful rise, I “punched” down one loaf, and carried the other one upstairs to dad, wanting him to take part in this process.

“Punch it,” I said.

He looked at me quizzically and gave the dough a hesitant nudge. After I explained the correct method, he said, “When you say punch it, I think you mean PUNCH it,” demonstrating the kind of slug I picture him giving a creep attacking my mom or me.

Thankfully, the bread escaped my dad’s upper-cross and finally emerged from the oven, golden on top and fluffy white in the center. All three of us enjoyed slices, and I declared (perhaps prematurely…) that I would be happy to make bread every Saturday that I am home. We’ll see how that goes.

In other news, I have a job (for the moment) doing some editing for a friend of ours. While I’m grateful to be working, by the end of the day I just want to get off the computer and stop reading. Still, I am making my way through Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand and reading The Pursuit of God by A. W. Towzer.

Or I just retreat to the kitchen and get my hands covered in flour.

Girl Meets Pickup

2009-01-15T22:55:00.000-08:00

This is crazy.

Several times during the momentary divorce from reality (also known as finals week) at Grove City, I promised to start a blog and tell my fellow Grovers what it's like out there in the "real world." Funny how writing research papers about literature is much less intimidating than dealing with the stuff of daily life. Well, I promised, so here goes.

Soon after I got home (to a surprise snowstorm that left us housebound), I received an early Christmas present from my parents. When my dad got a new company truck, they gave me his old one: a dark blue 2001 Dodge Dakota. If you are laughing right now picturing me driving a pickup, I don't blame you. Nevertheless, this is my first vehicle and I am suitably thrilled. (I named the truck Brego, for you Lord of the Rings fans out there.)

New truck = increased incentive to get a job. So like the bright-eyed new graduate I am, I began typing hopeful search terms like "editor," and "publishing" into Craigslist's job database. Several days later, after applying to an admin assistant position and setting up and interview with a temp agency, I felt frustrated and inadequate. I was nervous about the interview, nervous they would give me a typing exam, or maybe a spelling test. I drove to the mall and bought a suit at Ann Taylor, hoping to at least look professional.

It was when I got my final grades from GCC that I realized how silly I am. While all the work and late nights studying had "paid off" on paper, in a few moments I had forgotten it and was back to obsessing about getting a job. All the stress translated into maybe 20 minutes of thankfulness before I was looking at the next impossible hurdle. That's one cycle that's going to stop.

So I guess my first lesson from the real world is to quit worrying. Really.