Its easy to see patterns, consistencies, and recurrences, when they don't involve ourselves.
There are a lot of patterns in my life that reoccur, to name a few:
-My inability to say "NO" to people.
-My need, to be needed.
-My lack of self motivation
-My need to avoid conflict (my own conflicts)
-My need to fix conflict (other people's conflicts)
Just to name a few.
I can name these few only because at some point in time, they were shoved into my face. These patterns, reoccurred, and I did something regretful. Now, there are countless other patterns in my life that I don't see (yet) or am too conceited to see, but sure enough, they will surface.
Recognizing these patterns, and changing them, can help us better ourselves. But it sure is hard.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Baptism.
This an assignment for my Creative Non-Fiction writing class. We had to tell the story of an event from our childhood that we don't remember, but others do remember. So here it is, Enjoy;
Infant baptism was a tradition held by my Lutheran family for many generations. The Lutheran church doctrine believes that through baptism, comes salvation. However for me and my family, the tradition of baptism became something else.
Its a mild Saturday evening in March at Emmaus Lutheran Church, and the stage is set. The pastor is in his long white robe, the wooden pews are swept clean of dust, and the water on the alter is warm and awaiting my immersion. The smell of burnt candles and the musk of elder relatives is immersed in the air rising all the way to the peak of the sanctuary chamber. My mother is anxious and emotional amongst her family in the audience, my father is cracking jokes at my feminine blue baptismal gown, my older brother is complacent and desiring the attention of the evening to be on him, and my dear eldest sister is patient, calm, and wearing the most beautiful white dress.
The hour finally came. The singing of hymns began, echoing throughout the sanctuary halls like a chorus of bats in a cave. “Let us pray” the preacher said, and the service began. “Baptism is one of our most precious held traditions.” The preacher said. “We are here to commit this child to the Lord our God. Just as John the baptist baptized the believers of his day, so we do the same to this child before us.” My father handed me over to my sister who could barely hold onto me without shaking as if she were having a mild seizure. “Do you Scott and Vickie Smith give your son to God, to be baptized in the waters of his love, to atone for his sins?” “Yes we do.” My father and mother said. “Good, now hand me Travis” the Preacher said. My sister couldn't stop her nervous shaking. She was literally inches from handing my small, frail, infant body off to the pastor wearing the whitest piece of clothing, second to my sister's dress. Centimeters away, millimeters. She was so close to avoiding complete disaster. So close but so far. Just before my sister could hand me over to the pastor's open arms, my tiny infant bowels released , pouring excrement all over my sister's beautiful white dress. A mix of gasps, laughs, and awkward silence, fell throughout the sanctuary. Her face as red as a cheek in the cold, my sister walked swiftly away from the altar towards the bathroom to salvage what was left of her beautiful white dress. In front of family and friends, she walked to save what hadn't been sullied by my feces. My mother then cleaned me up and the baptism commenced, continuing our families tradition.
Today, my infant baptism remains a distant memory, occurring nearly 20 years ago. It is cataloged as one of three times that I, as a young child, hurled unpleasant bodily functions onto my sister. However thanks to the poop incident, my infant baptism remains the most vividly remembered baptism in all my family. Its something we will never forget, even if we wanted to.
Infant baptism was a tradition held by my Lutheran family for many generations. The Lutheran church doctrine believes that through baptism, comes salvation. However for me and my family, the tradition of baptism became something else.
Its a mild Saturday evening in March at Emmaus Lutheran Church, and the stage is set. The pastor is in his long white robe, the wooden pews are swept clean of dust, and the water on the alter is warm and awaiting my immersion. The smell of burnt candles and the musk of elder relatives is immersed in the air rising all the way to the peak of the sanctuary chamber. My mother is anxious and emotional amongst her family in the audience, my father is cracking jokes at my feminine blue baptismal gown, my older brother is complacent and desiring the attention of the evening to be on him, and my dear eldest sister is patient, calm, and wearing the most beautiful white dress.
The hour finally came. The singing of hymns began, echoing throughout the sanctuary halls like a chorus of bats in a cave. “Let us pray” the preacher said, and the service began. “Baptism is one of our most precious held traditions.” The preacher said. “We are here to commit this child to the Lord our God. Just as John the baptist baptized the believers of his day, so we do the same to this child before us.” My father handed me over to my sister who could barely hold onto me without shaking as if she were having a mild seizure. “Do you Scott and Vickie Smith give your son to God, to be baptized in the waters of his love, to atone for his sins?” “Yes we do.” My father and mother said. “Good, now hand me Travis” the Preacher said. My sister couldn't stop her nervous shaking. She was literally inches from handing my small, frail, infant body off to the pastor wearing the whitest piece of clothing, second to my sister's dress. Centimeters away, millimeters. She was so close to avoiding complete disaster. So close but so far. Just before my sister could hand me over to the pastor's open arms, my tiny infant bowels released , pouring excrement all over my sister's beautiful white dress. A mix of gasps, laughs, and awkward silence, fell throughout the sanctuary. Her face as red as a cheek in the cold, my sister walked swiftly away from the altar towards the bathroom to salvage what was left of her beautiful white dress. In front of family and friends, she walked to save what hadn't been sullied by my feces. My mother then cleaned me up and the baptism commenced, continuing our families tradition.
Today, my infant baptism remains a distant memory, occurring nearly 20 years ago. It is cataloged as one of three times that I, as a young child, hurled unpleasant bodily functions onto my sister. However thanks to the poop incident, my infant baptism remains the most vividly remembered baptism in all my family. Its something we will never forget, even if we wanted to.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
People.
I'm sitting here in my lecture and I'm watching the Inauguration of the new President Obama. People are hanging on to every word that he says. People chanting "O-Bam-A" at the top of their lungs. As they show people of all shapes and sizes in the crowd of hundreds of thousands, I can't help but wonder what people sacrificed to be there. How much they paid to travel, find a spot, take off work, find babysitters, what did people sacrifice to hear a man talk? I find it astounding that people can be so amazed with one person talking for fifteen minutes.
We put so much faith in each other. We expect, people to be the answer to our questions, to make us feel better, to solve our problems, and to give us as much as we give them. But all of this isn't true. Were all messed up people. I've let so many people down, and I've been let down by so many people, when will we learn our lesson? We just can't put our faith into people because they will inevitably let us down. Just as I have let down so many people, so will people let me down. So we need to put our faith in ourselves, and in something bigger than ourselves at the same time.
Hope? Change? These things don't come through placing our faith in a new politician. I believe we can only place our trust and faith in God, because all humans do is screw things up.
We put so much faith in each other. We expect, people to be the answer to our questions, to make us feel better, to solve our problems, and to give us as much as we give them. But all of this isn't true. Were all messed up people. I've let so many people down, and I've been let down by so many people, when will we learn our lesson? We just can't put our faith into people because they will inevitably let us down. Just as I have let down so many people, so will people let me down. So we need to put our faith in ourselves, and in something bigger than ourselves at the same time.
Hope? Change? These things don't come through placing our faith in a new politician. I believe we can only place our trust and faith in God, because all humans do is screw things up.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Back to the Present
a= Past b= Present c= Future
a.) The past a little more easily understood than the present or future. I can look back and understand events, occurrences, and seasons and determine their relevance within the present...sometimes.
b.) The present is a weird place. Its always changing, shifting, and complicating. It seems like a place that we will never escape, but within a blink of any eye, its gone.
c.) The future is weird too. Its unique in that it is dependent on both the past and present. The future is unique in its uncertainty, whereas the past and present are for the most part certain. There are no regrets like the past, and there are no pains as in the present.
a + b = c
Its the formula for our lives. It continues on and on and on, within one second the formula resets. The values of "a" and "b", and as a result "c", are always adjusting.
This came to mind when I was watching old home movies over the holidays with my family. I saw myself as a baby opening gifts, my brother talking his head off, my sister trying to be mature, my parents at an age that I will soon be approaching, and the images of dead loved ones. It was depressing. I wanted to cry. To think that time is gone and will never come back, that my parents will never be that young again, nor I, just made me want to stop living.
I realized that's the feeling when we obsess over the past. The best is behind us, the living dead. It feels terrible.
Then there is my obsession with the future. Anytime I try and guess or manipulate the "c" value, I just end up falling short to my expectations. When I obsess over the future, I get crazy. I feel as if every action is a reaction that is going to ruin my future. I get depressed, anxious, and stressed.
So I realized there is only one thing to look to; "b". We have to learn to appreciate the "here" and "now. When we don't? We get messed up in the head. This moment now is the only thing that I can affect right now. I have no control over my past, and none over my future as of now. I've just come to the conclusion that the only way to live is to not look both ways when you cross the street. If you obsess over the cars on the right, and the cars on the left, you will never step out into the street, and sidewalks are gay.
So that's my all too long rant for today. And probably the only time I've applied anything from high school algebra.
a.) The past a little more easily understood than the present or future. I can look back and understand events, occurrences, and seasons and determine their relevance within the present...sometimes.
b.) The present is a weird place. Its always changing, shifting, and complicating. It seems like a place that we will never escape, but within a blink of any eye, its gone.
c.) The future is weird too. Its unique in that it is dependent on both the past and present. The future is unique in its uncertainty, whereas the past and present are for the most part certain. There are no regrets like the past, and there are no pains as in the present.
a + b = c
Its the formula for our lives. It continues on and on and on, within one second the formula resets. The values of "a" and "b", and as a result "c", are always adjusting.
This came to mind when I was watching old home movies over the holidays with my family. I saw myself as a baby opening gifts, my brother talking his head off, my sister trying to be mature, my parents at an age that I will soon be approaching, and the images of dead loved ones. It was depressing. I wanted to cry. To think that time is gone and will never come back, that my parents will never be that young again, nor I, just made me want to stop living.
I realized that's the feeling when we obsess over the past. The best is behind us, the living dead. It feels terrible.
Then there is my obsession with the future. Anytime I try and guess or manipulate the "c" value, I just end up falling short to my expectations. When I obsess over the future, I get crazy. I feel as if every action is a reaction that is going to ruin my future. I get depressed, anxious, and stressed.
So I realized there is only one thing to look to; "b". We have to learn to appreciate the "here" and "now. When we don't? We get messed up in the head. This moment now is the only thing that I can affect right now. I have no control over my past, and none over my future as of now. I've just come to the conclusion that the only way to live is to not look both ways when you cross the street. If you obsess over the cars on the right, and the cars on the left, you will never step out into the street, and sidewalks are gay.
So that's my all too long rant for today. And probably the only time I've applied anything from high school algebra.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
My Limits.
I wonder if I would die for something. I'm pretty sure I could die for someone, but what about something less tangible? Like a belief? Honestly, would I?
If you know me, then you probably know that the only thing I actually believe in is Christ. So would I die for Him? Gosh I don't know. It's seems hard enough to live for Him, so could I die for Him? There is a "House M.D." quote that says "Dying is easy, living is hard"...I wonder if that's true.
The honest answer is I don't know, and neither does anyone else. When the gun is to our head, the knife to our heart, the noose to our neck, how will we respond to the prospect of death under that pressure? Right now I don't know how I might respond to dying for a belief greater than me. Maybe someday I will be placed in those circumstances and we'll see if its something I'm able to do, though I'm not looking foreword to it.
I'm reminded of a quote that I friend showed me from "Catcher In The Rye" by J.D. Salinger;
"The mark of the immature man is that he wants to die nobly for a cause, while the mark of the mature man is that he wants to live humbly for one."
Laying down our lives for someone or for something bigger is a noble gesture. However, we aren't supposed to live with a death wish. Were supposed to live our lives humbly and loving to those around us. Someday we will be called to die, maybe prematurely for something, but living isn't about dying. Dying is just apart of living.
If you know me, then you probably know that the only thing I actually believe in is Christ. So would I die for Him? Gosh I don't know. It's seems hard enough to live for Him, so could I die for Him? There is a "House M.D." quote that says "Dying is easy, living is hard"...I wonder if that's true.
The honest answer is I don't know, and neither does anyone else. When the gun is to our head, the knife to our heart, the noose to our neck, how will we respond to the prospect of death under that pressure? Right now I don't know how I might respond to dying for a belief greater than me. Maybe someday I will be placed in those circumstances and we'll see if its something I'm able to do, though I'm not looking foreword to it.
I'm reminded of a quote that I friend showed me from "Catcher In The Rye" by J.D. Salinger;
"The mark of the immature man is that he wants to die nobly for a cause, while the mark of the mature man is that he wants to live humbly for one."
Laying down our lives for someone or for something bigger is a noble gesture. However, we aren't supposed to live with a death wish. Were supposed to live our lives humbly and loving to those around us. Someday we will be called to die, maybe prematurely for something, but living isn't about dying. Dying is just apart of living.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Feeling like writing...
Emo. Most would associate this term with a particular pop punk band in the mid 2000's. A “Good Charlotte”, a “Simple Plan”, or the modern “Secondhand Serenade”, all come to mind. However in reality, were all extremely emotional people. We rely on our feelings when making big decisions, determining friendships, dating relationships, and all other sorts of scenarios. Our feelings influence, persuade, and in my opinion manipulate. Our feelings are like a politician, easily swayed by the tides of the time, easily corruptible by even the most minimal tempting object, and always telling us whats right, what to do, and who to trust, at all times.
All of this comes to mind due to the viewing of this recently shown global warming commercial seen below. The commercial talks about the cultural stigma that we don't nee to worry about climate change because it won't affect us in the near future. As a train approaches, a man is standing on train tracks talking about how global warming won't affect him, then he steps out of the way, and a little girl is on the train tracks to get drilled by the oncoming train. Splat. Everyone in my persuasive communication class here at Ohio State was encapsulated by this emotional advertisement, convinced that were killing our children through Global Warming.
Now you may know that I am not an environmentalist in any way. However, its not the content of this commercial that frustrates me, its the blatant manipulation that's so apparent. Show a child or an animal facing eminent demise, and you will convince the public of anything. Because our emotions deceive us, trick us, and are capable of changing our opinions and ideals with a single frame or 32 second commercial. If that's not power, I don't know what is.
All of this comes to mind due to the viewing of this recently shown global warming commercial seen below. The commercial talks about the cultural stigma that we don't nee to worry about climate change because it won't affect us in the near future. As a train approaches, a man is standing on train tracks talking about how global warming won't affect him, then he steps out of the way, and a little girl is on the train tracks to get drilled by the oncoming train. Splat. Everyone in my persuasive communication class here at Ohio State was encapsulated by this emotional advertisement, convinced that were killing our children through Global Warming.
Now you may know that I am not an environmentalist in any way. However, its not the content of this commercial that frustrates me, its the blatant manipulation that's so apparent. Show a child or an animal facing eminent demise, and you will convince the public of anything. Because our emotions deceive us, trick us, and are capable of changing our opinions and ideals with a single frame or 32 second commercial. If that's not power, I don't know what is.
Welcome.
Welcome to my time waster while I'm in, as well as between, classes here at The Ohio State University. I feel stupid and narcissistic for making a blog, but if nothing else it will be enjoyable for me to read down the road. My senior year of high school I had a Xanga and reading those post was fun and embarrassing. Hopefully this will be a similar experience.
http://www.xanga.com/iamtravis182
Well I'm off to make my first real post...here we go...
http://www.xanga.com/iamtravis182
Well I'm off to make my first real post...here we go...
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