Update Number Three:

Mother. Fucker.

Fuck.

Secondary Update:

The internet rules.

Somedays are days only meant to be on the internet.
Somedays are days only meant to watch movies.
Somedays are days meant to read texts for class.
Somedays are equal parts all of those things.

Mostly though, days are just for the internet or movies.

Kiss off academia.

Just some admissions

Sometimes I get so nervous about the future that I feel like vomiting. I didn't know I was like this and it's been happening so often lately that I'm being forced to reconcile with it.

I am nervous about the future.

There's nothing else to do but to continue fear(fully)lessly into it and to know I'll be somewhere doing something at sometime.

Oh and I'm afraid of needles too. Screw giving blood.

So, it’s Tuesday, 5 A.M. What do I find myself doing? Oh that’s right, cooking steak and watching Empire Records. It would seem that in my never ending quest to reinvent the 90’s, I’ve picked back up one of the classics, the icons, the Great Patriots of the late 20th century. This movie shaped me in ways I didn’t understand. It’s probably responsible for every single stereotype I’ve ever held about my peers, and for my sense of justice. I knew at a young age that the good guys were the ones sticking it to the man and that stealing nearly ten thousand dollars was understandable, nay, encourage-able! It also might explain why I would run around with no shirt on screaming about having no parents, a speed addiction, and everyone else’s “PERFECT LITTLE LIFE!!!!!!”

Looking back on this movie, one asks themselves the inevitable questions: why was this made? Who thought this was real life? Why is this movie so GOOD?
Seriously, I love this movie. It’s in the same leagues as Heavyweights, Camp Nowhere, Fox Fire, and Can’t Hardly Wait. Also, Liv Tyler is possibly the hottest chick of the 90’s. Freals.

"Mark man, you play a mean guitar. It is really a shame that you must DIE!"
"I love you Eddie."

If a man can learn to appreciate good art, he may live a thousand lives in one lifetime. Sometimes three or four in one night!

A quick thought on hip Christian music.

Cool. I get it. I understand your message. I don't have a problem with it. People write about various topics in many genres of music; I don't have a problem whatsoever with you talking about people being made from clay or being lifted up or something or whatever. Even the LDS music that I've heard, aside from hymns I mean, ok. That's fine. It's a little belabored but I dig your deal and continue on.

But for real. The only thing that would EVER turn me off from Christian music is the subculture surrounding it. I went to find lyrics to some Derek Webb and Sandra McCracken songs and BAM. There in almost every page. Hordes of emaciated, tattooed, dudes and girls smiling beguilingly. Every dude's gotta beard. Every chick has those loose, fly away bangs. They all look humbled and endowed with knowledge. Sigh. I don't know why this bothers me. I just think that this whole Shane Claiborne thing needs to end now. For every cool Christian in a suit and tie, there are twenty dudes wearing Red Wings jersies and torn jeans to services on sunday. It's like Jesus blessed the Last Supper and they sipped their local coffee house blends and nibbled on some pita and hummus. Maybe they did. But they sure weren't listening to Half-Handed Cloud and discussing the depth of C.S. Lewis.

I guess I just don't like the subculture because it's so desperately predictable. You guys are interesting people. I like hanging out with the people that I know that are in this lifestyle. I mean, half of Northern Kentucky is like this. That's great. But I like these people for a reason: for the people they are. And when I go to parties or concerts with these people, it's like I'm talking to one giant person, and all it wants to discuss is Rob Bell or Donald Miller. And everybody is so damn aloof. No I didn't hear the latest Mars Hill podcast, but I'm sure it was a doozy.

This was incoherent and more disgruntled than I intended it to be. I just really like people for who they are, not the Christian banner they wave. I'm a Christian. I love my religion. I love your religion. But we are not friends merely because of that aspect of our personality. I like you because you're intelligent and have a lot of funny stories/jokes/memories/ways to say things.

Two last ideas: This isn't about any ONE person. And this isn't about religion. Just the idea that we need to be starving, bearded, tattooed, pierced, and wearing a thrift store t-shirt to get into heaven. Holla at me if you wearin' a suit on Sunday. Holler.

Notes on my TMA 277 class

Sometimes I think about how all of this stuff we're chasing around, the internet and how to harness it and cultivate it and make it our money-maker, our sugar daddy, is so 1995 it's not even funny. I'm writing papers about how "the playing field is leveled because of the ease and ability of users to create their own individual content, breaking into an array of entertainment as yet unharnessed by any corporation (and possibly could never fully conquered and employed)." But all I can think about is ascii art and MS DOS and "the net" and how I should have a dot com business model or something.

Dude, the next level of storytelling is going to take place like in people's brains or something. I don't know. I can't understand it. I don't really care that much either I guess. I write things. None of this interests me. I think I read too much Seneca.

All I do know is that Ingrid Michaelson is the new Lisa Loeb. And that we may laugh at the dirty, mealy-faced 90's. But soon enough we'll be looking at the 2000's saying, "What the hell was wrong with us?" And also, "Hoverboards rule!"