Ars Memorandi Mori

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This is the photo in the show.

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Twins

2008-12-10T17:41:00.003-05:00

Death and Blogs

2008-12-10T17:22:00.002-05:00

I'm beginning to realize I don't really like blogging. Initially, I wanted to use it to improve my writing, and convict myself into writing on a more regular basis. I am doing that, just not on the blog.

I still have the Head Cult, where I have promised to post more literate work. I still have this one, and I may just turn it into a photo blog, at the behest of a friend. So, things may change around here shortly.

Peace

On Female Cats

2008-11-11T18:40:00.001-05:00

So it turns out the cats are girls. And their names are Sophia and Teresa.

Introducing the Cats

2008-10-16T20:17:00.004-04:00

We don't have a name for this one yet. I'm leaning towards Soren, but that is also terribly cliche, so I'm open to ideas. He's a fighter and instigator, and the name should reflect thus.

This is Socrates. He looks so dignified...

There. I'm sure there will be many posts about their antics and revelations, so keep reading.

On Cats

2008-10-13T12:03:00.005-04:00

Yesterday, I became the proud owner of two new kittens. My girlfriend expressed to me some news on Friday that a woman she works with was looking to get rid of a few cats. I jumped at the offer, and a few days later we spent several hours shopping for a litter box. By Sunday evening, two bundles of fur were frolicking on my apartment's hardwood floors, jittery as hell and jumping at the strong footsteps of the tenant upstairs.

They are both about six weeks old. One is a grey tabby, the obvious instigator of the two. He often starts the bouts of wrestling by running into the other at high speed, and has made a little home by the radiator behind my desk, callously rejecting the bed/towel we arranged for him in another room.

The other is a mostly-black-and-orange calico, and has been the most vocal and acrobatic of the two. This guy meows A LOT, and apparently for no reason other than he likes the sound of his voice. He also has been jumping around and on the several chairs and candelabras I have strewn about. He seems obsessed with perfect balance, which makes his brother's sporadic poundings all the more comical.

They have no names yet. I feel compelled to name the calico Socrates, as his personality reflects an adept orator and thinker, but I'm still considering one for the grey tabby. Calling them both "hey, cat" could lead to identity issues. I hope to have photos up soon, and maybe the two readers of this blog can help name them. They are both male, and I'm really attracted to names in theology/philosophy or mythology.

In the meantime, I hope to train them to be absolute killers of any intruder, so if you decide to visit me in Cleveland, be forewarned.

The Delay

2008-10-01T06:56:00.001-04:00

I met a girl. A give her an ample amount of time. That means I blog a bit less. Fear not, this thing is not dead, and nor am I. Quite the opposite, actually...

On Biographies

2008-09-05T21:05:00.004-04:00

This week, we were encouraged to find a picture of ourselves when we were young and then write a short biography based on that photo. the one I chose is to the left. It's a picture of myself when I was around four or five with my two cousins, Sarah and Ben. to me, this is a strange photo. I cannot remember much of anything from when I was this age, so I can vaguely disconnected from the child in the image. I'm smiling, so I must be happy about something, but I no longer know what.

It was an interesting practice; taking an image from my past and reflecting on the younger person I used to be. So much has been lost since then, with what seems to be little gain. I may have greater intelligence, awareness, and height, but if these things, at the expense of unmitigated and innocent joy, then I am envious of the child I no longer am. Here, in this picture, I am surrounded by those who love me, and who will not judge me, and who will not reject me. I fear almost nothing, and have little to do with the awareness of God. He responsibility that such knowledge entails has taken its toll, and in most respects, I have not even reached the midpoint of my life.

The child is gone, yet he is ever here. I cannot expect to ever become fully aware or completely void of innocence. I have seen much, experienced greater things, and have been to many distant places where this child could not have imagined he would go. Yet even imagination itself has dulled through the years, and the less exciting, all too cold reality set limits on my once rampant thoughts. Where shall I be in another 20 years? What beliefs will I grow into? Who will be beside me then? Will I ever smiled that way again? Even now, there are more questions than answers, and I find myself more unsatisfied with the silence then I was back then.

On Death and Dogs

2008-08-30T16:58:00.003-04:00

When I was thirteen, I came home from jr high to an oddity. There, in my backyard, was a small animal. I did not know who's black creature this was, but it frockled around and, upon seeing me, galloped at high velocity right into my shins. This is how me and my dog met.

The following years were tumultuous. I was young, and had no idea how to raise a dog, let alone accept the responsibility for another life. I got as far as the dog's name, and that was it. The family would always exclaim, "She's your dog! You (put her out/feed her/take care of her, etc.)" But, as life continued, I moved away from the dog.

I would visit every so often. She was always glad to see me, which happens to be characteristic of dogs. She would wag her tail and pant, exposing her unique black spot on her tongue. She was oblivious to the world around her, only focused on what was in front of her face. She learned to mole hunt. She constantly tried to eat a basketball. She would sleep on my bed. For all these things, I shall miss her dearly.

We put her down today. She had a tumor growing in her mouth that was removed once already, but it was persistent. She could not walk very well, and would often trip up the stairs. It was time, though I hate to see her go. For literally half my life, she's been around, and now she's gone.

It reminds me of my first encounter with death. My first dog died when I was nine, and I didn't fully understand what that meant. All I knew was that the dog was buried in the backyard, in the forest, and an object of my love went underground. As I grew, I found myself visiting that sacred place often, thinking about what it meant to die. Now, the first dog grave is accompanied by a second, and there will be no more dogs for some time.

I miss her. I told that dogs things I've never told any human being, and she knew my secrets. To God with you, Addie.

The Job

2008-08-19T20:15:00.003-04:00

In a few days, I will begin what can only be legitimately described as a real job. After years of knowing nothing but school work, reading, studying, writing papers solely to impress a professor, and the hermetic life, the eschatological arrival and pregnant potential of this job cannot be underestimated. At the risk of sounding a bit drastic, albeit cliche, but this job is the beginning of a new life.

The previous comment is a bit misleading. To be sure, I've had this job now for about three months. Yet, during that period, I received no pay, the workplace was erratic, and I understood that the other individuals involved were here only on a temporary basis. In hindsight, this more or less voids the understanding of the term "job." To define the word further, a job is something that can be characterized in several ways: one, financial sustenance, which this residency will now provide, two, the psychological effect of purpose and stability. While a job is certainly not an appropriate place for a person to gather all of their self-value, it certainly has a powerful effect on the psyche the moment a company or organization bestows worth unto you by the giving of position. While the physical transition from a three-month internship to a one-year residency may not be overly auspicious, the mental effect of such a move yields positive results. For one, I don't have to look for another place to live. That is one excursion I do not readily wish to repeat.

With a job also calms a certain social sphere. Because I'll be working in a hospital, and because I will have a set list of departments that I will be visiting on a regular basis, there will undoubtedly be individuals that I shall gravitate towards. Friends have been hard to come by since I've been here. I would be lying if I said that I did not hope in some kind of "social miracle," a rapid expansion of my social boundaries and the emergence of individuals that I can spend ample amounts of time with. Honestly, I'm not one that makes friends very easily. In college, many of my friends migrated with me to that godforsaken town of Kankakee. In seminary, it was only because of the social prowess of my roommate and I was able to get out and meet people, much to my disdain. It was only later did I realize it wasn't so bad.

Getting a job like this feels like a step towards actualization. I had jobs before, but they were always known to be very fleeting and worthless, to some degree. Most were used solely for money, and many of them failed miserably at that. No, this job feel's right.

It is here that I must confess; I've felt this way before. The first time I traveled the 210 Expressway into Los Angeles, I felt excited; a congruency with my history, an understanding that the events of my life have led me to this point, to this place, and that is a good thing. But as it turns out, that feeling of congruency left as quickly as it came, and it arrives with no promises as to the "goodness" of this particular point in personal history. While I hope that this job does turn out to be a good thing, I am unsure I have the capacity to recognize it as such. As with everything in my life, it is dependent on my perception and understanding, and little else.

On Monday, I'll meet the other members of my team. It is then to the busy work of being a chaplain. I'll form relationships, make decisions, gain new understanding into my life, and make all sorts of mistakes. These are the things that make history; the "damn things" that follow one after another. This job will just become another part of my history, just another damn event, one that will always have an effect on my life. For God, history is a very presence; it is not a laboratory, but a person; many persons. I pray that the God of history is pleased by the one I create, and will intervene when necessary.

The glory of technology

2008-08-12T19:21:00.003-04:00

I came across some new software today. It's speech recognition software. At the moment, I am verbally dictating this post. It saves vast amounts of time, and can serve to be an incredible distraction. My computer now has both a mouth to speak and ears to listen. I love technology.

Tomorrow starts the first day of my vacation. I don't plan on doing much, but I rarely ever do. Hopefully, I shall see a few friends from college, traveled home, and get some reading done. I also hope to post some of my short stories that I've recently been writing. None of them are any good, but it is more about the practice that the quality. The routine of my writing is beginning to take shape. Specifically, I've made several stories surrounding a character I call Inspector Thyne. the inspector is a Bombay cat, caught in a world of conspiracy and murder. together with his assistant Sebastian, and a priest who happens to be a bloodhound, Thyne struggles with internal conflicts, external pressure, and devious plans larger than his mind can grasp. It's a promising plot line, with various influences, and I am anxious to see where it leads.

I begin my residency at the end of August. I've been contemplating what sections of the hospital I wish to be assigned. I've been drawn to the palliative care unit, the hospital's version of hospice. I've also contemplated the numerous ICUs. But lately, I've also considered the pediatrics unit, which is surprising even to me. I don't like children, and it is for that very reason I am considering that unit. Whatever fear I may have with the young, it will certainly be confronted and challenged in such a context.

In the meantime, there will be many nights of pipe smoking, introspection, and depressing music. Let's hope it never ends.

Goodbyes

2008-08-10T16:25:00.003-04:00

I could start off by saying something cliche like "I'm no good at saying goodbye," but that would be untrue. I believe saying goodbye is one of the things I'm pretty good at. Its always been rather easy, with the painful ones few and far between.

This is the last week of my internship. I know I'll be sticking around for a while longer, but the changes are to significant to avoid a feeling of loss. In a couple of weeks, I'll be moving from the community and the people I've met there to the Clinic, in all its impressive, terrifying grandeur.

The team I was with has officially disbanded. The families I would give communion to have given me their best wishes. I go to the church for one of the last times tomorrow.

So, this is an end. A beginning to something new.

The First Date

2008-07-25T23:39:00.003-04:00

We fed ducks. I got lost. We looked for dinosaurs. She dropped a sandal in a pond. We assumed our murders would be on the news. We discussed religion. All in all, pretty good.

Success! ...In a way.

2008-07-19T22:14:00.002-04:00

So, a few of you may know that I have recently ventured into the vast, terrifying world of online dating. So far, I have joined three different dating websites, paid for two in services, and have had no success. Whether it be matching me with people who reside in Russia, physically unattractive, or just plain creepy, I have become quite dismayed. Yet, I hit the lowest of the low, and posted a personal ad on craigslist.

In the last hour since the posting, I've received five emails from rather intriguing individuals, and rather attractive. Who knows? Maybe this is the beginning of a good thing.

Money and Cars

2008-07-15T22:15:00.002-04:00

I spent over $1000 today on my car. I didn't anticipate that. Nor did my credit card. I wish my job paid money.

26

2008-07-14T19:27:00.004-04:00

I turned 26 yesterday. It was the first conscious midpoint-passing of my life. At 5 I had no self-awareness, and the 15-to-16 mark was overshadowed by the usual excitement of legal driving. Passing into 26 years has a much more dismal connotation. Especially if you're still single. So far, I've told about half a dozen people that I am 26, and the question that always followed was the intrusive, "You married?" My response is generally a hollow smile with a sarcastic, "Not yet, but I'm lookin'." Let's just say eHarmony hasn't come through for me yet.

Birthday's are always nostalgic for me. My memory wanders back to previous parties, celebrations, and jovial occasions to see how the current year's festivities match up. What's usually so strange is looking at the memory retrospectively (All memory is retrospective, of course, but here its influence is especially profound). Last's year birthday memory is significantly influenced by the events that followed it. Also, the previous year. And the year before that. I find myself realizing that, in the moment, I had a good time. But a year later, I just feel sad at all that's happened then and since. People change. Relationships change. Faces change. Landscapes change. Desires change. Dreams change. Nightmares change. Life just changes.

This year, though nothing spectacular, was quite safe. Spent a few days with the folks, went to the art museum, preached a sermon, spoke with some friends, and called it a day. There was nothing irregular or arbitrarily different about the day. I simply gently glided from one age to the next. I think I prefer it this way. One can never foresee the outcome of change, but we can control hoping for change. Whatever memory that comes from hope always changes.

The Chirst of Kierkegaard

2008-06-28T23:06:00.003-04:00

Someone once asked Kierkegaard, 'Can one learn from history anything of Christ?'

'No,' he answers.

'Why not?'

'Because we can know nothing at all about Christ. He is the paradox, the object of faith, existing only for faith... about Him nothing can be known, He can only be believed.'

This is the greatest and the most difficult part of faith.

Kayaking

2008-06-22T18:48:00.003-04:00

This weekend, I embarked to experience something new. Upon leaving Fuller, Amanda gave me one of the greatest gifts I have ever received: a scrapbook of things to do in the Cleveland area, each one hand-selected for a specific month. June just so happened to be kayaking month.

I had never been kayaking before, but it seems a whole lot like canoeing, only better. I imagine one could take a kayak out to rough waters, but I was satisfied with one of the softer tributaries from Lake Erie. What I needed was a nice leisurely float away from my troubles and anxieties. And that's what I got.

I can't really put my finger on it, but I've been stressed since I moved. I know I love my job, and the apartment is fantastic so I don't exactly know where it was coming from, but I was tightly-wound. Driving would be a horrible, anger-filled experience. But coming back from only an hour on the water I was relaxed and cheerfully listening to NPR. $15 well spent.

Being On-Call

2008-06-20T18:37:00.002-04:00

This is my thrid night on-call at the hospital, and I'm feeling rather underwhelmed. Of the total 24 hours that I've spent and over 20,000 patients that have come through, there have only been three calls. I haven't even heard a peep tonight since I started at 4 PM.

In one sense, all this is well and good. People not dying, doctors and nurses performing their jobs well, and keeping getting healthy are all great things. But I'd be nice to get to see some action around here. I mean, I've been sitting in the on-call room for the last half hour just debating whether or not this was a worthy thing to blog about.

In the meantime, I suppose I'll just try to get some sleep. Knowing my luck, the beeper will go off nonstop once the clock hits 1 AM.

Leonard

2008-06-14T09:40:00.005-04:00

Of all circumstances that can present mundane disappointment, waiting for the train in dismal weather has a distinct way of defining the general mood of the day. Just as rain can soak to the bone, so can a late locomotive weave its way into our mind, running its smoke and steel squeals of annoyance directly to the ruinations of an amicable disposition. Each minute that passes is another moment of preoccupied misery. Vain attempts to ignore the downpour that has ruined your favorite tie are only bested by futile efforts to hope that the train will arrive soon. It could as well be a law of the universe: "A train will only arrive when its passengers are thoroughly saturated, their time is irreversibly wasted, and their spirits are utterly expunged." Woe to the man who must wait in the rain for a train.

But this is exactly where Leonard found himself, on the dreariest day of April, waiting at the only train stop he knew that was without a roof. Most men would have had a bit more foresight, and retrieved an umbrella to stave off the showers, but excitement and jubilation has a way of distracting a person from sensible reasoning. Besides, simple rain would not have squelched the joy that Leonard felt when he awoke. His morning routine was transformed with a frantic energy as he bustled and charged from room to room. His clothes were set out the night before. His breakfast was quick and portable. His paper was ignored. His shower was momentary and had set a personal record. Most of his morning was spent grooming meticulously. His personal appearance was of the utmost importance, this day more than any other. Today, Leonard was getting married.

Leonard was not one to jump into things lightly, especially when it came to romantic relationships with the opposite sex. He found the company of a significant companion too restrictive and unpredictable. While certainly, emotional connection and feelings of passion were important aspects of human existence, these things must be maintained, reserved, and controlled. "Unbridled love," as it were, became the downfall of many great men, and served more to incapacitate the actions of a person than to free them. At least, this is what Leonard once believed, before he had met Lecia.

Continued Later

On Writing Fiction

2008-06-14T09:34:00.003-04:00

I want to write more. Every now and then, you may see a post that has nothing to do with the job, nor is it autobiographical in any objective sense. I want to write more fiction, so I may put some very short writings here.

Don't be surprised if they're terrible or jaded. I can only write what I know, and I don't expect anything good in the first trespasses into personal literature.

For Margaret

2008-06-08T20:43:00.003-04:00

A member of our team died today.

I was going to make a post about being on-call, how it was an exhilarating and teaching experience. I was going to write about how I experienced one aspect of death, but now I have experienced another.

I did not have much of a relationship with Margaret. I only knew her for a week. We traveled a city together, experienced orientation together, dealt with confusion by talking to one another. I find I am unable to grieve her, because I did not know her.

There are a few unknowns. She met me this morning to take over the on-call schedule. I gave her the keys and the pager. I got an email this afternoon stating she had collapsed while on-call, and did not survive. I know no more than this.

She has a husband in California. She has a sister here. She has children and grandchildren. She was to graduate soon. She was to be ordained soon.

I cannot grieve, but I can be angry and confused. This situation raises questions of justice and love. Why does something like this happen? Why should someone die, literally, on the first day of their ministry? Where is God in all of this?

I find that I do not understand, and that is the worst place for me.

Harvard & Lee, and the Apartment

2008-06-06T15:39:00.010-04:00

I explored the area of Cleveland where I shall be ministering the next ten weeks. Its an area known for violent youth, but you would not be able to tell form the look of the place. Its actually very nice, with well-kept homes, friendly people, and a church on every block. The team and myself were introduced to many of the faces of the Harvard Ave area, including a pastor who sponsors a $20 mil dollar project that will allow Christians to conduct business without the help of the "mark of the beast," known by more secular folk as the computer.

Also, here are some pics of the new place. Its not totally done; there's still a dining room that needs furnishing, but I think I'm going to use that space for photography. Here's what it looked like when we arrived:

Living Room

Kitchen

Dining Room

Bedroom

Hallway

Here's what it looks like now:

Kitchen

Living Room

Dining Room

Bedroom

Pretty nice, if I say so myself.

My First Day

2008-06-05T21:21:00.002-04:00

I'm gonna have some pictures of the new place up soon. Stay tuned.

My first week at the clinic ends on Friday. So far, its been a lot of orientation and little else. The place is huge; bigger than you can imagine. They serve over 2000 patients a day. That's a lot.

I start in the city tomorrow. Our assignment is basically to drive around a part of Cleveland that is less than reputable and meet some of the locals. Our homework is to hang out in the library, the post office, some diners, and take notes about what we learn. It should be interesting.

I'm also on call for the first time on Saturday night from 4:30 to 8 the next morning. I've been told there are an average of 2-3 deaths a night, but there are more on the weekends for some reason. Wish me luck.

Traversing the Nation

2008-05-30T21:28:00.011-04:00

I drove over two thousand miles in the past three days. Here's what I learned along the way:

- Each state has very distinct roadkill. New Mexico was littered with snakes of various sorts. Texas had armadillos. Missouri had bugs everywhere. Illinois and Indiana have deer. Quite a display of local deceased fauna. Shame all that deer had to go to waste.

- I hate driving through Oklahoma. It seems the fine people of the southern state think so highly of themselves that they charge you for driving through it. I had to pay almost $20 in tolls just to get from one side to the other. It's not that I'm against tolls; the roads have to be kept somehow, but these roads were barely drivable. If you're going to extort money from weary travelers, you should at least have the dignity to use it for pavement.

- While Arizona and New Mexico are quite beautiful and a pleasure to drive through, the states between the coasts are just plain boring.

- If you feel yourself getting sleepy, crank up the AC. It follows a little trick I learned from the David Letterman show; your body keeps you fairly awake if you're cold.

- The most expensive gas is on the Cali-Arizona border. $4.99 a gallon, as of two days ago.

- Once you hit the highways, you can watch TV while you drive. I suggest the Colbert Report or old episodes of Alias.

- There are lots of stupid, stupid people in the world. How does someone get into an accident on a one lane construction road going 15 mph?

- You can entertain yourself for ours by attributing random personalities to various appendages, and then foster ethical debates between them.

- Most importantly, I learned I can drive over two thousand miles in under three days. You never know when you'll have to pack up shop and hightail it outta Dodge.

New Life

2008-05-27T20:26:00.002-04:00

New life, new place, new blog! Peace out, LA. Hello, Cleveland!