Monday, December 11, 2006

Studying

So here is a look at my life as a student through mainly two weeks of intensive study. Let me warn you, it's not pretty. Oh, and it is in reverse chronological order, so until I fix it (I never will,) scroll to the bottom and work your way up.

I love Christmas break. Did I say BREAK!

Word to your mother. Foo.


When you are sitting in one place all night, you get cold. I was cold and the power was out. I love my sweater. A lot.


Yeah, I'm tired.





Why do I do this to myself?


I was tired of taking pictures where I look like a zombie, so I smiled for the camera. How cheesy.
Hmmm.

Lovely, I know, but sometimes, you just feel like being crazy. I think I feel that way more than usual.


So what did I do about it? Well, naturally I had it cut!


I love my hair at that length. It really is my favorite length of hair. It just falls so nicely.


So this doesn't fit in chronologically, but this was after I had been on a "sleeping two-hours a day" program where you starve your body for sleep, and then only let it sleep twenty minutes every four hours and you are able to get all the rest you need. I had a difficult time adjusting. I felt aweful when I took that picture.


Back at school, I got up super early (actually, it was more like taking a nap at midnight) and had some pretty awesome bed-head.


Mmmm, hot drinks. I love hot drinks, which means tea, since I don't do coffee. That's right, a college senior and I have stayed drug free the whole time.


Same coffeshop, I just let the camera focus on the outside light.


Day two at the coffeeshop. It was nice to be working in the morning, and not at night.


I was there for a while, and ended up getting really tired of studying. Can you tell?


I finally got work done at a coffeeshop in Ann Arbor. I spent two days there and wrote one of my FOUR paper's there.


This is in the Smith's guest room. I didn't get much studying done there, but I guess I wasn't actually planning on it.


That was the first night of Thanksgiving break (the Tuesday before) and I spent it with Brandon Irish, an art/music major with a phenomenal voice. A swell guy. We had a good time.


Here I am that same night at a ("a"? I mean "the") local coffeeshop.


So. It didn't take long before reading book upon book and article upon article filled with legalese left me looking for a distraction. Why not take pictures of my eyes poking out through my fingers?



This is the near the beginning of my time, I read for two days straight. I didn't leave the suite, I didn't go to classes, I just read.

Saturday, December 09, 2006

How an Old Dog Learned a New Trick

Or
What I Missed While Saving the World
Or
[How I Hope to Develop My Prose Style]

A typical boy, I worshipped GI Joes. They made possible gravity defying leaps and secretive missions in the backyard jungle. GI Joes allowed me to channel all of my male warrior bravado through ranks of plastic figures, living out dreams of heroism and bravery. When not preserving the world, I would read books, which only enjoyed a short season of favor at one time during my youth. Once the Boxcar Children ceased to fascinate, and I had finished Tolkien’s Middle Earth series, books were a decidedly un-masculine distraction from more competitive ventures, be it GI Joes, basketball, army, or a computer game challenging ones tactical genius against a friend.
For one so uncultured, Hillsdale has been a literature-appreciation boot camp. To my elated astonishment, people have been reading books all this time because they captivate and wield power absolute: to perplex, to delight, and to persuade. This discovery has re-opened my eyes to the joy in reading and the realization that I have squandered much of my life in utter futility. I have missed out on so much, and to increase my insult, the universe seems to laugh at its joke on me for being so long in this discovery. I am heartened, though, in my remorse, by wisdom imparted to me from the GI Joe cartoon: knowing is half the battle. As a possessor of this knowledge I hold a great power that demands great responsibility.
One of the courses in the boot camp of Hillsdale has been in understanding the mechanics of language and the power of words when arranged in that peculiar manner –elusive, and difficult to mimic, yet easy to perceive – which bestows upon prose a supernatural persuasion. This course has taught much, and indeed continues to teach, but its greatest contribution has been to direct my attention to the authors of literature throughout history who merit reading, and who alone are the true masters. Thus, my path to improvement requires an apprenticeship with these. Observing their strokes. Learning their craft. Under their tutelage, my appreciation for the diversity of prose will continue to increase as I learn to imitate them. I had hoped that this journey would begin immediately during my conscription at Hillsdale, but the masters require patience of me, waiting until I can promise them my undistracted attention.
Essayists, too, desire to teach me much. Not until this class had I taken any interest in the wit and superb style of the Epsteinian author. Joe beckons the inquisitive to take and read, take and read, filling their minds with his divining logic. He does not stand alone though; he writes in a field of outstanding authors awaiting my discovery.
In order to apply the lessons of my tutors, I will continue to write essays similar to the ones assigned in this class. Though professional essayists have long laid hidden from my sight, history texts have afforded numerous examples of essays commenting on the times. From these essays I have learned the value of collecting my perceptions and writing them down. Already this semester I have written one such essay for my parents, looking at family and containing the observations of a son who’s moved out. Forthcoming are essays both for my church back home and the one I attend here with observations on the health of the church. Personal essays too await further attention, fleshing out my beliefs and philosophies on a number of relevant topics.
Once these essays are finished, more will no doubt have grabbed my attention, but they will wait, for a number of the papers completed here at school deserve greater attention. One, even, is published in the recesses of the schools database, allowing me to boast proudly that a google search of my name, along with Jonathan Edward’s, will produce my paper. I have added to it some already, but I look forward to re-examining my thesis and giving fresh vigor to thoughts that have lain dormant for a year.
I seek to further improve my skill by taking up the long forgotten art of letter writing. I have never practiced writing letters with any consistency, but I have intended to for long, and the deep friendships formed here at school provide the impetus to apply my skills and continue these friendships after I graduate in May. During my freshman year I wrote mass e-mails to friends and family and I enjoyed looking at life in terms of events that I could describe in narrative. By writing letters I will be able to practice chronicling the events of my life and additionally, writing in pen and paper forces one to contemplate the formulation of sentences before even the first stroke graces the page. Computers invite hastily writing whatever comes to mind without forethought; letters demand at least enough care for the rhythm and organization of sentences to avoid mass deletion.
The course ahead of me is clear and simple. It does not require magical incantations or the possession of esoteric knowledge, only the fortitude to continue reading consistently and the time to write periodically. If I follow this course, I might, one day, be lauded, a learned man of letters. Or not.

Tuesday, October 31, 2006

A Movie Worthy of It's Name

The Incredibles, directed by Brad Bird and produced by Pixar Studios (2004), exemplifies what films can be when they receive the attention and thought of a keen mind. Bird’s film tells an engaging story while inspiring many laughs and teaching the observant audience a number of lessons.
Many, even most, will fail to realize the potential of The Incredibles primarily because few will expect to find thought provoking themes in a children’s movie. Brad Bird proves himself a true craftsman here, recognizing the potential of his art and carefully measuring each step to create a work of surprising depth.
The movie follows the adventures of Mr. and Mrs. Parr, Bob and Helen, who were once superheroes and who now spend their energies raising their three kids Violet, Dash, and Jack-Jack. When the villain learns that Bob Parr is the retired superhero Mr. Incredible, he seeks to destroy Mr. Parr and his family so that he can gain power without any to stop him.
The Incredibles is so refreshing as a film largely because of Bird’s willingness to openly promote family values. One must watch his work numerous times to fully appreciate it though, for like the author of a good book, he is not content to advance only a single theme. Multiple viewings expose a number of thoughtful ideas. Syndrome, the evil genius, lives on an island named Nomanisan Island –No Man Is An Island – suggesting that Mr. Incredible can’t succeed on his own, and possibly even the idea that secluding oneself from the stabilizing influence of family, such as Syndrome has done, can be destructive. Self-sacrifice too is often lauded, with the parents frequently shielding their children from danger, and in one scene, the daughter throws herself in front of her brother to save him from the enemy’s bullets. On the issue of gender roles, Bird paints a picture of how a husband and wife can work together in a way that affirms and embraces the value of each without being demeaning to either. This, it seems, is especially interesting because Bird’s idea on this avoids both the chauvinistic domineering male error and the empowered feminist trap; it shows the wife as supportive and affirming of her husband as the bread winner and leader in the family, while also being able to assert herself and step in where her husband is wrong. More still is tucked away: statements on the nature of evil, a frankness about the consequences of ones actions rarely seen in children’s movies – people actually die, and even a jab at mediocrity in education.
Brad Bird encourages unity in marriage and makes a case for the value of family. Perhaps one of the strongest cases for this never even made it into the movie, though. In a deleted scene from the DVD, one can watch an alternative opening to the movie where Helen and Bob are having a neighborhood barbecue to introduce themselves. Helen overhears one of the neighborhood women ridiculing stay-at-home mothers for throwing their lives away. While concealing details of her past, Helen angrily defends motherhood, saying that she left a job saving peoples lives to raise a family; and, she says, “nobody’s going to tell me it’s any less important.” Bird wrote this scene because he loved the idea of a superhero defending being a mom; something his own wife struggled with when she left a lucrative career in film editing to become a homemaker. This scene reveals much about the movies author: not only is he actively promoting the family in this film, but he himself places a strong emphasis on family in his own life.
When he is forced to retire from his work as a superhero, Mr. Incredible does not handle his transformation into Bob Parr well. He grows restless in his cubicle job and only manages to keep his sanity by listening to police scanners at night so he can play the vigilante hero. This grasping for purpose sets up the importance of family in Bird’s film. Helen Parr, formerly Elastigirl, makes the transition without difficulty because where she once found purpose in saving people’s lives, she now finds purpose in the home. While exchanging vows at the altar, she tells Bob “I love you, but if we’re going to make this work, you’ve got to be more than Mr. Incredible, you know that, don’t you?” The Incredibles follows Bob Parr’s journey to discovering this truth: that his family is a priceless treasure.
Syndrome sells weapons of his own design to tyrannical governments and tests them on superheroes he lures to his island. He draws Bob to his island under the pretence that he will be generously rewarded for helping a secret government agency recapture a killer robot that has gone missing. Bird plays heavily on the theme of purpose here. Bob has a gift and he cannot forget it, even to the point of forcing his family to relocate each time that he reveals his super strength. This makes him distracted while at home and apathetic towards his family as he searches for opportunities to play the hero. When he returns home from a late night adventure early in the film, Helen is waiting for him and scolds him for threatening to blow their cover again so he can relive his past. Helen pleads with Bob to make family a priority, saying of their superhero days that “Yes, they happened. But this, our family, is what’s happening now Bob, and you’re missing this.” In contrast to his distracted searching, when Bob comes home after successfully defeating Syndrome’s robot, he again feels satisfied after fulfilling his purpose and spends time playing with and helping his children, while being attentive to his wife and even reviving a playful flirtatiousness in their marriage.
Bob has still not learned his lesson, though. His family continues playing second fiddle to his thirst for purpose. He has been lying to his wife about his mission to Syndrome’s island, and instead of going to work each day, he heads off for a secret workout routine to get back into shape. This lie places his family in danger as they track Bob back to Nomanisan Island for his second mission. Only when he thinks they have been killed does he realize his error: ignoring his family so he can pretend to live in the past. This prompts Bob to confess to his family, on discovering their survival that he was “so obsessed with being undervalued that” he undervalued all of them, “you,” he continues, “are my greatest adventure and I almost missed it.” He has seen the value of his family, but he must also learn to trust his family and to rely upon them for help. He realizes this when he and his family face Syndrome’s ultimate weapon, the omnidroid. Upon confronting the machine, Bob asks Helen to stay behind while he attacks the robot. When she disputes this, wanting to help, Bob say’s that he’s not strong enough to lose his family again, and that he has to fight alone. Helen, moved by this honesty, tells him that if they fight together, he won’t have to lose them. No man is an island. Bob, though strong, must be more than super and allow his family to support him.
Within this theme of family, Bird takes several opportunities to focus in on the centrality of marriage. In a scene on the island where the children are hiding, Violet explains to Dash the gravity of their situation, saying “Do you think we’re on vacation or something? Mom’s and Dad’s lives could be in jeopardy, or worse, their marriage.” Though a little contrived sounding for a fourteen-year old, Bird prefers being over handed in this instance in order to reaffirm values that have long been losing ground. Later, in the scene where Bob wishes to fight the omnidroid alone, Helen tells Bob that he is her husband and she is sticking to him no matter what, reminding him of their vow “’til death do us part.” She will not leave her husband; they must face adversity together. This brief moment in the midst of the action is easily missed, but its seeming triviality even further emphasizes the point that vigilant attention is required in even the smallest moment to preserve a strong marriage.

Sunday, October 22, 2006

Sweetest Picture Ever


This picture is truly amazing. I love the composition and the framing. Look at all the lovely textures. The smooth and rough patches on the apple. The scales on the turkey and its claws. The smooth spine of the feather and the feather itself. The crunchy leaves. I love it.

Saturday, October 21, 2006

Friday, October 20, 2006

Fall Break

Break was great fun. We went to Tami and Jaimi Swenson's 425 acre farm. We took some neat walks and visited a haunted cabin secretly built on their land. We took a tour of small town Wisconsin: Boscobel, WI.

I really like this photo of these flowers.

We ate lunch at the Unique Cafe. It was sweet and had lots of old signs inside.

Jonathan Walker is a silly man. He is an amazing photographer, he has a great eye.

A bunch of serious cowboys. And Michelle, who's seducing the camera.

The moon walks the line.

Thursday, October 12, 2006

I Do Believe

And Jesus said to him, "If you can? All things are possible to him who believes." Immediately the boy's father cried out and said, "I do believe; help my unbelief." - Mark 9:23-24

Thursday, September 28, 2006

Affections for Tolkien

I lay on my back in the dark, listening attentively as the van wound down steep, serpentine roads, carving a streak of light through the blackness. My body listed with the rolling motions of the vehicle as Bilbo Baggins and I ran from orks into cold, wet mines, ducking and crawling to avoid capture. I will never forget these times of immersing myself into Tolkien’s imaginative Middle Earth. His saga beckons the reader to lose himself and enter Tolkien’s universe, which my Dad discovered as a young man and passes onto his children by reading aloud.
My Dad’s impersonations still remain vivid years later: shrill, sneaky Gollum; noble, commanding Gandalf; brusque, grinning orks. Each character comes with its own facial expressions and matching intonations, often causing my Dad to lose his voice. Though I have read the books and I have seen the movies multiple times, it was through my Dad’s investment of time that Middle Earth first captured me. He so loves Tolkien’s work that he can hardly contain his excitement as he reads. With irrepressible joy he has introduced us to this mystical land where he has forged, through battles and common conquests, uncommon friendships with the tales characters.
Through these memories of my Dad reading aloud, Tolkien’s saga remains firmly planted in my affections. Not only do I love the book, but I love Middle Earth; leaving this world of care to draw my sword with Haldir. Here I meet dear friends, and often, share a journey with my Dad.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006




In the midst of a field I saw this humble memorial whose simple lessons on mortality gripped me.

Thursday, September 21, 2006

Pictures from this morning

Crystals

Sunrising

Soccer Fields

Upon Affectation

Jupiter made a lottery in heaven, in which mortals, as well as gods, were allowed to have tickets. The prize was WISDOM; and Minerva got it. The mortals murmured, and accused the gods of foul play. Jupiter, to wipe off this aspersion, declared another lottery, for mortals singly and exclusively of the gods. The prize was FOLLY. They got it and shared it among themselves. All were satisfied. The loss of WISDOM was neither regretted nor remembered; FOLLY supplied its place, and those who had the largest share of it, thought themselves the wisest. - Lord Chesterfield

Amazing...

Sunday, September 17, 2006




These are some shots from Craig Caswell's birthday hike. This is my first post ever; I will add some posts shortly.

-Nathan