On Sitting in Audiences

One of the reasons I don't go to see shows is that they give me head aches. It's not the shows fault, or the directors for that matter, I just can't sit still that long and my eyes aren't used to focusing at distance for much longer than a minute. I think that's why I also get crazy on long road trips. Ding me for being a dancer.

Saw a show today. Don't ask my opinion. It doesn't matter what I think. Except of course Dark Star was lovely and the technical side was competent. There was one distracting bit of tinsel caught on a door most of the time and the audience was matinee quiet. That is all I feel compelled to say.

***

"The most important thing, the thing you must never, ever, loose, are my children," he told me. I am ill equipped for such a task. His children do take themselves off and wonder incoherently for decades at a time. I can't touch them.
"Then keep the ones I give you."

I have a handful of treasures. They have exotic names. They are not something I hoard. They walk the earth and if they accept my love for them the light I bear would shine much brighter.

For the longevity of the human race we were given love. We were given pain so we would seek each other.

UftPM

'Twas a Viking night tonight, me lambs.

Um, the only thing that would've made it better was if Mother Bear called me much latter so I could panic. I didn't get a proper panic out of this. I rolled on the floor laughing. It was exactly as is should've been. Could've done with out the cooking cable in the ground box though that smelled bad.

Viking did well as Viking always does.

So, I count my blessings.

Until the Day He Died

She assigned herself a place among the stars. No one else had. That was the problem, they saw a drudge, a shoe scrapper. Not to him. He was hopelessly madly in want of her attention. She was too busy creating artificial light until the day she died. His mother lust was never satisfied, it played out in a thousand situations, the most acutely shameful being in public. Panting, moaning, squirming about he would ask the world, anything, to touch him. But it, they, were too busy.

No, he wouldn't kill himself over it. There was no point to that. Instead, he would barter for it. The price was too much for him to hire it full time exclusive but he could steal it for a time or triad something for it. Before we knew it he had assigned himself a place among the stars. But all we saw was a drudge, a shoe scraper, until the day he died.

Fate vs. Choice

A friend of mine posed a question about fate vs. choice in regard to marriage saying that, your views on the subject would reflect your view of God. Now, I've struggled with this fate vs. choice thing in a different area of my life, namely my career. I don't know if fate or choice dominated. Yes, I chose to ignore some opportunities. I chose the field of study I pursued. I'm not working in retail or food service, stereotypical fall back professions. Nor do I think I'd ever choose that or that it's purely my choice.

I don't feel I chose this path, like sitting down and saying, "plus column, minus column..." In fact, I didn't want to be in the arts. It pays so lousy, the hours suck and hardly anyone is paying attention anyway. Could I change industries? You bet. I'd go into HR somewhere or project management. Would I be just as happy? How should I know? (Maybe I'll find out) I think in a Christian's life, a life commanded by God, fate and choice work together. God presents us with a series of decisions that lead to our fate. Not being able to make both decisions at the same time to know what the outcome would be limits us in knowing whether it even mattered what decision we made. But God in his omniscience can read our lives like a history.

We can't see it that way. We control so little in our lives. We see fate or choice and think they are mutually exclusive. But perhaps, some things are fate and others choice and that it would be different for each person.

The reason we control so little, going back to that idea, is that, there are other people out there making decisions that effect our lives. I have no control over them and you have no control over me or them. The only person I have control over is myself. This is humbling. Humans don't like to be humbled. Humans tend to fight because they want control. But they can only enjoy the illusion of it. They, we, can never really posses it. At best it's on loan. If you are a good steward of power it will be with you as long as you need it. If not you're Gaddafi and that isn't pretty.

Another interpretation of fate vs. choice has to do with a persons basic feeling toward Humanity. One who ascribes to fate is pessimistic toward Man. For Man is incapable of making a decision independent of a predetermined plan. Therefore nothing is left to his actual control. One who ascribes to choice, on the other hand, is optimistic toward Man. For choice would have it that not only is Man capable of deciding what to do but that he is an active participant in the shape of his life.

I've noticed when I make a certain type of decision I have a feeling of rightness. Like duh, this was the only thing I could do. What is that? Is it fate or me being a cleaver smart ass? I, like most people, don't analyze my decisions unless something went terribly wrong or some one makes me. The feeling of rightness could be ascribed to my brilliance or to benevolent outside forces or a combination. Which is likely? All of it. Why not?

I realize that as a Christian I believe my brilliance comes from God making me out to be a fatalist. This may be true. But we'd still have the problem of evil to wrestle with. Ah, there is always some thing to think about. I'll leave evil for another day.

UftPM

I'm posting this out of a seance of duty, not that I think the events of yesterday were all that significant. It was a typical mid-mission exhaustion kind of night. Stuff got dropped, passwords went missing, some one dropped a stink bomb...that sort of thing. I suppose it's incumbent on me to note the irony of Caliban dropping the "oregano" and then laughing so as to be incoherent for the next few seconds. He, at least, had the right attitude about this minor fiasco.

I didn't find the pants thing to be that big a deal. Maybe it's because it's happened before. Launch got his stuck in the rigging good and it took more effort to get those down. Chuckles gets point for keeping them compact and off the lights. I'd score it 3 out of 5. But that's off the top of my head and through a fog of sleep deprivation. I mean the event happened when I was way tiered. I'm not sleep deprived now. I'm on vacation.

The piercing sound out through the brain it was metallic of course. The room was bouncy. Not like a bouncy castle. I meant the sound.

UftPM

It's not fair. He should be allowed to stay home sick. Lord knows he's a trooper and if he were home he'd still be working. 'cause it's all about bringing up the fam. But when Mocking Bird is the walking dead among us the soul is gone. We don't sing as free.

Best exchange of the night.
Little Bear: You got that?
Starling: Yeah, I'm not allowed to wear a rainbow across my boobs until I'm forty.
Little Bear: You better write that down so you remember it.