Was in a gas station recently, and went to go consume my favorite drug of choice: caffeine. However, as I was perusing the various assortment of legal addictive substances mixed with sugary bliss, I passed by a section of beverages that was not so prevalent a decade ago: The Energy Drink Section.
I went to college. I know that life is a series of trade offs. I realize that sometimes you gotta sacrifice four night's sleep so that way you can be in a sleep deprived stupor for that last exam for that class you hate. I am just as guilty as the next insomniac.
However, as my eyes glazed over the labels like the doughnut machine at the Krispy Kreme shop, I saw some disturbing things on labels that I'd like to share. These are the ACTUAL labels:
Caution: HIGH CAFFEINE CONTENT... OKAY, WE KNOW THAT'S WHY YOU'RE DRINKING IT BUT OUR LEGAL GUYS WANT TO MAKE SURE YOU DON'T FEED IT TO KIDS, WOMEN WITH A BUN IN THE OVEN, OR THE WEAK WHO JUST CAN'T TOLERATE IT
(First off, I think the guy/gal who wrote this was on said energy drink and, therefore, can not help shouting this warning, even in print. Second, it almost seems like they're enticing you. "Don't feed it to kids" "Your baby will be born with muscles" "You're too weak for OUR drink... neener neener neenee!")
FREEK: (The rest of the label is not necessary. Not only does this advocate illiteracy, but I'm scared about people who feel the need to consume a liquid to "get their freak on" (the label's slogan)).
Cocaine: This message is for people who are too stupid to recognize the obvious. This product does not contain the drug cocaine. This product is not intended for any other use but an energy drink. (Sure... yeah... okay... I beLIEve you.)
RED STUFF: Energy Drink (A least they seem to be less misleading about what is really IN the drink)
There are many more, but I think you get the point. I think I'll stick to the original energy drink: coffee. But then again, I saw some coffee the other day that was "Gensing infused"...
IS NOTHING SACRED ANYMORE?
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Pure Unadulterated Glee
No... I'm not referring to that evil thing on television that is slowly killing us all... wait, isn't that Oprah? The other day I was dressed for an interview and I felt very mature. I had not changed too much just by switching outfits. Some would argue that I was still "me" under all the adultness (you can fill in the blanks what that means to you...). However, that got me thinking about maturity, which brings me to the subject of unhampered joy.
Now, I'm not saying that we should all resort to bathroom humor for the sake of world peace. That would make life one big episode of Ren and Stimpy (which again, you can fill in the blanks about the good/bad of that). However, I think we miss the pure joy of enjoying life. I realize I don't have a huge amount of responsibilities in comparison to some. However, I think sometimes we miss the simplest pleasures because we are bogged down by the worries of life. We ignore the good because we are worried about what COULD happen. We have bills to pay, kids to raise, roofs to put over our heads, and lives that we are trying to self-actualize. There's so much to mistrust, and yet, there's so much to take joy in: people to love us, friends who are loyal, a body (which when functioning in a healthy way can be pretty funny all by itself), and (at the risk of sounding a bit dogmatic) a God who is with us, whether we feel Him or not. These gifts are what give life its beauty. If we refuse to acknowledge these treasures, we rob ourselves of an accurate viewpoint of life and thus, risk digging ourselves early graves.
The title of this note is taken from a phrase said by Jim Wiggins, the oldest person ever on Last Comic Standing who had been doing saloon comedy for over forty years. He had been 11th in the top ten comedian choosing for the final cut and had therefore not been able to perform. However, as drama flaired on the show (as with most reality television), one of the finalists refused to perform at the last minute. Literally hours before he was supposed to get onstage, he received a phone call from Las Vegas to go perform. Upon seeing his journey there, his voiceover in the frame said, "I had nothing but pure unadulterated glee [upon receiving the news of wanting to hear his act again]." He then proceeded to do his act, which consisted of jokes about being old, poop, tequila, and a dialogue about being busted in a hotel swimming pool for wearing a thong bathing suit. While he did not make it to the top five, he received a standing ovation.
Now, I'm not saying that we should all resort to bathroom humor for the sake of world peace. That would make life one big episode of Ren and Stimpy (which again, you can fill in the blanks about the good/bad of that). However, I think we miss the pure joy of enjoying life. I realize I don't have a huge amount of responsibilities in comparison to some. However, I think sometimes we miss the simplest pleasures because we are bogged down by the worries of life. We ignore the good because we are worried about what COULD happen. We have bills to pay, kids to raise, roofs to put over our heads, and lives that we are trying to self-actualize. There's so much to mistrust, and yet, there's so much to take joy in: people to love us, friends who are loyal, a body (which when functioning in a healthy way can be pretty funny all by itself), and (at the risk of sounding a bit dogmatic) a God who is with us, whether we feel Him or not. These gifts are what give life its beauty. If we refuse to acknowledge these treasures, we rob ourselves of an accurate viewpoint of life and thus, risk digging ourselves early graves.
The title of this note is taken from a phrase said by Jim Wiggins, the oldest person ever on Last Comic Standing who had been doing saloon comedy for over forty years. He had been 11th in the top ten comedian choosing for the final cut and had therefore not been able to perform. However, as drama flaired on the show (as with most reality television), one of the finalists refused to perform at the last minute. Literally hours before he was supposed to get onstage, he received a phone call from Las Vegas to go perform. Upon seeing his journey there, his voiceover in the frame said, "I had nothing but pure unadulterated glee [upon receiving the news of wanting to hear his act again]." He then proceeded to do his act, which consisted of jokes about being old, poop, tequila, and a dialogue about being busted in a hotel swimming pool for wearing a thong bathing suit. While he did not make it to the top five, he received a standing ovation.
Two Whole Chickens
Being in Albuquerque has forced me to deal with one of my biggest spiritual issues: Pride. I did not realize how insidious it was until I could not find a job to save my life. Ten job applications, I was trusting God. Fifty job applications, I thought to myself "Okay, this is what faith is..." Seven hundred plus applications, getting to the "final interview" three times, and still no job, God and I were "having relationship issues". I was trying everything in my power to "stand on my own two feet", prove to myself that I could do life. When this did not happen, I became bitter toward God. I felt like I was standing in front of Him saying, "HEY! I took care of Your children. I fulfilled my part of the deal. YOUR TURN!!!"
However, one day, I was speaking with a friend about my "problem" and his response was unwavering: "Chase, you feel called to work with the poor, right?" My head nodded automatically, "Right..." He then hit me right between the eyes, "What makes you think you are above their struggles? What makes you think that God loves you any more than He loves them? What makes you think YOU should get special treatment?"
Ouch.
As much as I justified it in my own head, that's what I was doing. Here I was, having spent a year and some change living with the homeless, and I was complaining that I deserved a job. Because I had a degree, because I was supposed to be at "this point in my life right now", because I spent so much time feeling indignant about what I "should" have, I did not count my blessings in what I did:
1. My parents fed me and loved me everyday.
2. I got to live with my aunt working off rent.
3. I had a car.
4. I was not hungry when I went to bed.
5. There are more blessings here than I can type.
This dangerous sense of entitlement made me dissatisfied with God. If I really took a hard look at what I deserved from God, I need only to look at the cross. THAT'S what I deserve. I am a nobody. However, on that cross, Christ identified with me, and I Him. He is my entitlement. I realize that I am only as good as the one I am following and to the extent that I am following Him. And if my faith is to bring about change, I must follow Him: through the muck, next to the "untouchables", through the pain of filled tombs, being a man of a poor spirit, depending on God to do miracles.
Living in the "War Zone" of Albuquerque (They renamed it the "cultural district"... politics...) has forced me to rely on God. It has forced me again to take a hard look at my neighbors and how to love them. It has forced me to ask the question: "Where are you God?" during times of suffering, only to have Him say, "I am with you to the ends of the earth. [Did you forget or something?]" (Brackets mine)
Has the earth ended? In spite of what that dude in Los Angeles said/says, it has not. Christ is still here. He told us to pray: "Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on EARTH as it is in heaven" (emphasis mine). I know God has called me to the World Race. While I know God will provide, I haven't a clue how it will all pan out. All I can do, is hold up my loaves and fish and say, "God, do something with this, please..." and watch Him feed souls.
Yesterday, I was praying over the neighborhood, and asking God to continue to restore His kingdom here. As I was praying, a girl came up to me on a bike, too small to belong to her. She had a dew rag on her head, and was heavily tatted up wrist to neck, and back again. She ambled over and asked, "Hey... do you have fifty five cents so I can get a poptart for lunch?" I saw desperation in her eyes; The kind that I had felt so many times.
"You spangin' for a poptart? I wish I had some money, but I'm kinda poorer than the economy right now..."
We laughed real hard. It felt good to laugh like that.
"But seriously, I don't have anything..." I began to make an excuse, but then I remembered a second chicken my mother had bought for me the last time she was at the store. I used to be very indignant at these gifts of generosity. However, I now see that in her gifts, my mom was showing me how the provision of God works: "...but I gotta whole chicken in there. I know I can't eat all of it by myself. You want it?"
The girl lit up and screamed: "FUCK YEAH!" and dropped her bike to hug me. It was there that God redeemed struggle, and showed me what His love can do: Feed souls, destroy death, and bring life.
However, one day, I was speaking with a friend about my "problem" and his response was unwavering: "Chase, you feel called to work with the poor, right?" My head nodded automatically, "Right..." He then hit me right between the eyes, "What makes you think you are above their struggles? What makes you think that God loves you any more than He loves them? What makes you think YOU should get special treatment?"
Ouch.
As much as I justified it in my own head, that's what I was doing. Here I was, having spent a year and some change living with the homeless, and I was complaining that I deserved a job. Because I had a degree, because I was supposed to be at "this point in my life right now", because I spent so much time feeling indignant about what I "should" have, I did not count my blessings in what I did:
1. My parents fed me and loved me everyday.
2. I got to live with my aunt working off rent.
3. I had a car.
4. I was not hungry when I went to bed.
5. There are more blessings here than I can type.
This dangerous sense of entitlement made me dissatisfied with God. If I really took a hard look at what I deserved from God, I need only to look at the cross. THAT'S what I deserve. I am a nobody. However, on that cross, Christ identified with me, and I Him. He is my entitlement. I realize that I am only as good as the one I am following and to the extent that I am following Him. And if my faith is to bring about change, I must follow Him: through the muck, next to the "untouchables", through the pain of filled tombs, being a man of a poor spirit, depending on God to do miracles.
Living in the "War Zone" of Albuquerque (They renamed it the "cultural district"... politics...) has forced me to rely on God. It has forced me again to take a hard look at my neighbors and how to love them. It has forced me to ask the question: "Where are you God?" during times of suffering, only to have Him say, "I am with you to the ends of the earth. [Did you forget or something?]" (Brackets mine)
Has the earth ended? In spite of what that dude in Los Angeles said/says, it has not. Christ is still here. He told us to pray: "Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on EARTH as it is in heaven" (emphasis mine). I know God has called me to the World Race. While I know God will provide, I haven't a clue how it will all pan out. All I can do, is hold up my loaves and fish and say, "God, do something with this, please..." and watch Him feed souls.
Yesterday, I was praying over the neighborhood, and asking God to continue to restore His kingdom here. As I was praying, a girl came up to me on a bike, too small to belong to her. She had a dew rag on her head, and was heavily tatted up wrist to neck, and back again. She ambled over and asked, "Hey... do you have fifty five cents so I can get a poptart for lunch?" I saw desperation in her eyes; The kind that I had felt so many times.
"You spangin' for a poptart? I wish I had some money, but I'm kinda poorer than the economy right now..."
We laughed real hard. It felt good to laugh like that.
"But seriously, I don't have anything..." I began to make an excuse, but then I remembered a second chicken my mother had bought for me the last time she was at the store. I used to be very indignant at these gifts of generosity. However, I now see that in her gifts, my mom was showing me how the provision of God works: "...but I gotta whole chicken in there. I know I can't eat all of it by myself. You want it?"
The girl lit up and screamed: "FUCK YEAH!" and dropped her bike to hug me. It was there that God redeemed struggle, and showed me what His love can do: Feed souls, destroy death, and bring life.
The Awkward Poem
I dedicate this to what I will say,
after ten years, I hope my dad comes back from the store one day
And I know if I say this
it will echo 'round the globe,
"Anyone ever tell you "you have sexy earlobes?"
My mom told me that was her favorite pickup line,
after she told me, "I love you, you're not mine."
So off I go again, another psychotic episode
I tell you this to make your mind implode.
This poem is only to inform, not to goad
I must tell you this, or my pants will explode
This poem is not normal,
like a newborn baby with an afro,
Rather this awkward poem is to attack the status quo
and make it like diarrhea, so smooth let it flow
into the next line with simile and metaphor,
Like Bevis and Butthead, this poem is a "SCORE!"
that's times twenty in the area
of awesome and strange
so lets dethrone Obama,
how's THAT for a change???
after ten years, I hope my dad comes back from the store one day
And I know if I say this
it will echo 'round the globe,
"Anyone ever tell you "you have sexy earlobes?"
My mom told me that was her favorite pickup line,
after she told me, "I love you, you're not mine."
So off I go again, another psychotic episode
I tell you this to make your mind implode.
This poem is only to inform, not to goad
I must tell you this, or my pants will explode
This poem is not normal,
like a newborn baby with an afro,
Rather this awkward poem is to attack the status quo
and make it like diarrhea, so smooth let it flow
into the next line with simile and metaphor,
Like Bevis and Butthead, this poem is a "SCORE!"
that's times twenty in the area
of awesome and strange
so lets dethrone Obama,
how's THAT for a change???
Bleeds with You. For Jax
You smoked too much for your own good
never seeing your reflection,
the herbs and embers
coursing through your veins,
only laughing when you could
hugging a needle when you could not.
You bled too much to live
your broken muffled midnight cries
belittling the fire's destruction
bursting dams in eyes
that didn't belong to you
but bearing its weight nonetheless.
You are not forsaken
You are not forgotten
You are tears
slidding over a beaten bloody face
weighed down by the crown of scorn
who bleeds with you.
never seeing your reflection,
the herbs and embers
coursing through your veins,
only laughing when you could
hugging a needle when you could not.
You bled too much to live
your broken muffled midnight cries
belittling the fire's destruction
bursting dams in eyes
that didn't belong to you
but bearing its weight nonetheless.
You are not forsaken
You are not forgotten
You are tears
slidding over a beaten bloody face
weighed down by the crown of scorn
who bleeds with you.
A Thought Vent When my Mind is Spent
It has been a very long time since I have felt this faithful... either that means that I've finally gone insane, or that God is really doing work.
What ever happend to lyrical content?
Helplessness is God's medium by which He choses to work the best with.
When you finally hit the "self publish" button, it comes up with the sign, "CONGRATULATIONS! YOU JUST PUBLISHED A BOOK!" However, they should follow it up with a second sign which says, "...but you're still poor".
I have yet to see when a little chest hair sticking out of a shirt "helps" a look.
Awkward conversation:
1: "It looks like your wife keeps you on a short lease..."
2: "Yeah... and she calls me 'Fido'..."
I think there's something in your tuba... WHAT? No that was NOT a metaphor!
We all want justice as long as it doesn't bother us.
If New Mexico took over the government, would we have "Red or Green" states?
Yes honey, I read the book you told me to read... yes I understood it... YES, that's the book... yes... it is is still covered in plastic wrap.
Luke 1:38
What ever happend to lyrical content?
Helplessness is God's medium by which He choses to work the best with.
When you finally hit the "self publish" button, it comes up with the sign, "CONGRATULATIONS! YOU JUST PUBLISHED A BOOK!" However, they should follow it up with a second sign which says, "...but you're still poor".
I have yet to see when a little chest hair sticking out of a shirt "helps" a look.
Awkward conversation:
1: "It looks like your wife keeps you on a short lease..."
2: "Yeah... and she calls me 'Fido'..."
I think there's something in your tuba... WHAT? No that was NOT a metaphor!
We all want justice as long as it doesn't bother us.
If New Mexico took over the government, would we have "Red or Green" states?
Yes honey, I read the book you told me to read... yes I understood it... YES, that's the book... yes... it is is still covered in plastic wrap.
Luke 1:38
This is Only a Test
...An introduction, an examination, a beginning of new things that cause trepidation. Do you like rivoting political commentary? Do you like angst ridden hate speech? Do you like talks about how we should all just "get along"? Then you probably should not subscribe to this blog.
I'm a poet/activist/man o' faith/unconventional person who loves wordplay, pondering, and trying to figure out where that smell is coming from. So, sit back, relax, take some motion sickness pills, and enter.
But beware, these thoughts may inspire you to do crazy things, like start a revolution...
Or get married.
I'm a poet/activist/man o' faith/unconventional person who loves wordplay, pondering, and trying to figure out where that smell is coming from. So, sit back, relax, take some motion sickness pills, and enter.
But beware, these thoughts may inspire you to do crazy things, like start a revolution...
Or get married.
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