I would not have dared to dream it.

Today I took a look at the life I have and I realized that ten years, five years, one year ago, as I was trying to decide what I would pursue, trying to decide what I would do, where I would go, what activities I would participate in when I graduated and was finally free to choose... as I wondered, as I waited, as I agonized, as I procrastinated and put off planning out of fear, as I eagerly got an idea and pursued it...

...even one year ago, I would not have dared to dream of the life I have now.  I would not have dared to dream that it could happen.  That I could have so many of the desires that have followed me throughout my life.  Pursuing them would have seemed rash, doomed to failure.  And they dropped right in my lap.

I dreamed of a full-time job doing engineering.  Starting four years ago, anyway; before that I did not know to dream even that, I only dreamed of something mathematical.  Maybe some chip-design for some tolerably respected company.  A little over a year ago, I learned to my chagrin that most companies hiring electrical engineers for the branch which borders on computer engineering wanted a master's degree, but I held out hope that my qualifications might yet land me a job in a relatively timely fashion without the need for that extra time in school which I was not emotionally up for right then, not after five long years.  But a job for Intel?  Chip design for the most respected chip maker in the world, one which supports its employees, one which really hopes that you will still be happily working for them decades later and treats you accordingly?  I did not dare to dream that.

I dreamed of getting to go on a few memorable weekend hikes and/or camping trips with friends.  One or two a year.  Ideally in forest.  But to get to go on gorgeous hikes regularly, so that going a month without is very rare?  I did not dare to dream that.

I daydreamed about forest.  I have always loved forest with all my heart, more than any other kind of terrain.  Forest and mountains.  Old wood.  Clean smells.  Green, green everywhere, my favorite color.  Frequent rain.  Awe-inspiring chasms filled with trees, trees, are what I have loved more than anything since the first time I laid eyes on King's Canyon National Park the summer before my fifth grade year.  To visit these places on a yearly basis was a dream.  To live with forest literally outside my window, with miles and miles of forested mountains within an hour's drive?  That is beyond anything I dared to dream.

Or if I toyed with the notion, I threw it aside.  For I love cities a little too much to give them up.  Havens of culture.  Places to meet people, to visit libraries, to listen to choirs, to go to a good-sized church.  Places where I could work surrounded by others.  Places with good Internet and phone service.  So of course I could not live in a forest happily.  I had to live in or at least very near a city.  So it was hopeless.  Something I never dared to dream.  Until I moved here and discovered that was just what I had acquired almost by accident.  Forest and mountains and city too.

A safer place, a place with friendlier, less suspicious people.  I imagined it, but I did not dare to dream it.

All this, but I wanted a place with a community of friends.  One person at least, one good friend, who could introduce me to their friends, and have it spread from there.  And thanks to my brother Robert, his wife (then fiancee) Laura, and their awesome friends, friends who quickly began inviting me to events even when Robert wasn't going, Oregon passed that test on top of these.  I had an in.  And now I have a community.  Varied and strong and oh-so-interesting and fun.  I dreamed of this, but it turned out better than I dreamed, and anyway I did not dare to mentally claim it as a goal; all my dreams were longings I expected to go unfulfilled.  I expected to live in Los Angeles among my dear friends whom I made gradually, so gradually, and, if I moved, to have trouble for at least my first half year, to continually need to call my old friends just to stay sane.  I did not dare to dream this.

I dreamed of getting to tutor, to help a few people with their math.  I did not pursue it as I originally intended, but about three or four weeks ago, a conversation with a boy I know turned into a thrill when he, on his own, went and grabbed pencil and paper so I could show him some math concept I was talking about, and then we spent the next good while going over miscellaneous math concepts to our mutual delight.  Now I get the chance to tutor him every week, and another family of mutual friends another night every week.  It is so much fun, more fun than I ever dreamed (such bright kids, so fun to watch their eyes light up!  We played with legos and talked about math at the same time!), and it all fell into my lap. I did not dare to dream this - not this.

I dreamed of singing, and I am a part of Intel Singers, an employee group that meets during lunch once a week, and I sing at church as well.  I wanted it, but was not properly pursuing either... but the opportunity was pressed upon me.  I couldn't figure out who to contact about Intel Singers and wasn't willing to take my best guess - an advertisement appeared on the screen of rotating announcements near the elevators which told me.  I was feeling shy about mentioning to the worship director that I could sing - three or four separate people told me each week that I should talk to him until I finally did.

All that is left is for an opportunity to write - and the time to manage it - to fall into my lap.  Or perhaps the perfect roommate(s).  Or more likely something else I would not dare even to dream.

Ah, dear Lord, I can hardly wait to see what You will do next.

Not everything is perfect, of course, and not everything is quite as fun as I dreamed.  But the sum is better than the dream by far.

God is good, and what He has done for me this year has surpassed my wildest dreams.

Perhaps more hardship will come; perhaps some of these gains will prove to be transitory.  Perhaps.  Then again perhaps not.  Either way, this past year proves to me that I am incredibly loved.  That what hardships may come are for my good, to strengthen me and not to harm me.

Last April was when I got an email in my school inbox that informed me that Intel was hiring microprocessor design engineers.  Last April was when I felt a sudden surge of shocked hope and my dreams began to change.  Last June was when they flew me up for an interview and I felt my heart sway toward this beautiful place as I spent time with Robert and Laura and their friends.  Last August was when I arrived here and began this new, crazy, wonderful stage of my life.  Here I am... and I love it.

Press On

When my insecurities rise up once again, it's time to press on.

When the thought of doing something seems cripplingly terrifying even though I know in my head that it's not so bad, it's time to press on.

When I'm bored and my mind wants to wander from something valuable to something silly, from my job to miscellaneous personal thoughts, it's time to press on.

When I feel angry or hurt or embarrassed without cause, or even with cause, it's time to press on.

When I fall flat on my face, it's time to get up and press on.

When I'm lazy and waste time, it's time to get up and press on.

When I need to press on, I have friends who can encourage me, including one very special friend who tells me to take courage.

When I need to press on, I have people who I know will accept me even if I fail to break through the wall, people who will cheer my success when the wall breaks at last.

When I need to press on, I have God, who delights to give me strength and encouragement.

When I press on, I receive blessings that go far beyond the difficulty, blessings which are all the greater when it was so hard I wanted to cry as I looked ahead to what I had to do.

When I press on, I become stronger, and the next time I need to press on it is easier.

When I press on, God uses me, and others are blessed.

When I press on, I see how much I am loved.


*I do not speak of pressing on when with sober judgment you know that the battle is not worth the prize.  But so often the prize is worth it, and we do not receive only because we are unwilling to strive, to persevere, to press on.

Faramir

In which I rant about the mutilation of a beloved character
I figure most people are tired of hearing how the movie ruined Faramir long since.  Within a week or so of when the movie first came out.  But when I made an offhand comment about it, someone asked for the full version... and I gave it.  I reproduce it here.  Except in the beginning it was a lot of Facebook comments and some others were interspersed; here I only include mine, and only the ones that were more of an essay than a conversation.  I do a very little minimal editing.



First, let me say I thought the movies were pretty good. They showed millions of people that Middle-Earth is beautiful. They kept some of the major themes at least. Nothing like how awesome the books are, but that's just to be expected when someone else messes with the vision of a genius like Tolkien, constrained by such a restrictive medium as movies. Lothlorien was disappointing, but Rivendell was beautiful beyond my imagination and Minas Tirith was glorious. Ah, the soundtrack! They got the atmosphere of the places mostly right. They did an amazing job of showing the hobbits feeling lost and small in the inn of Bree and Aragorn looking terribly menacing in the corner. And so much more. It's *hard* to make Ents in a movie, thus I forgive them the fact that Ent eyes are super-lame compared to Tolkien's description. It's impossible to demonstrate the effects of Saruman's voice, thus I do not resent the fact that they barely even tried. They truly didn't have enough time for Tom Bombadil. Etc., etc. </disclaimer>

But.

Faramir.

Let me show you Faramir from the book.  You may have forgotten him.  You may never have met him.  I'll let him speak for himself.  This is Faramir from the book:

"But this much I learned, or guessed, and I have kept it ever secret in my heart since: that Isildur took somewhat from the hand of the Unnamed, ere he went away from Gondor, never to be seen among mortal men again. ...


"What in truth this Thing is I cannot yet guess; but some heirloom of power and peril it must be. A fell weapon, perchance, devised by the Dark Lord. If it were a thing that gave advantage in battle, I can well believe that Boromir, the proud and fearless, often rash, ever anxious for the victory of Minas Tirith (and his own glory therein), might desire such a thing and be allured by it. Alas that ever he went on that errand! I should have been chosen by my father and the elders, but he put himself forward, as being the older and the hardier (both true), and he would not be stayed.


"But fear no more! I would not take this thing, if it lay by the highway. Not were Minas Tirith falling in ruin and I alone could save her, so, using the weapon of the Dark Lord for her good and my glory. No, I do not wish for such triumphs, Frodo son of Drogo.


...


"For myself, I would see the White Tree in flower again in the courts of the kings, and the Silver Crown return, and Minas Tirith in peace: Minas Tirith again as of old, full of light, high and fair, beautiful as a queen among other queens: not a mistress of many slaves, nay, not even a kind mistress of willing slaves. War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend: the city of the Men of Numenor; and I would have her loved for her memory, her ancientry, her beauty, and her present wisdom. Not feared, save as men may fear the dignity of a man, old and wise."

And later, a good while later, after finding Gollum and speaking more, Sam clumsily said of Boromir, "From the moment he first saw it he wanted the Enemy's Ring!" And there was much horror on the part of Frodo and Sam as they realized what he had just said.


"Save me!" said Sam turning white...


"Now look here, sir!" He turned, facing up to Faramir with all the courage he could muster. "Don't you go taking advantage of my master because his servant's no better than a fool. ... Now's a chance to show your quality."


"So it seems," said Faramir, slowly and very softly, with a strange smile. "So that is the answer to all the riddles! The One Ring that was thought to have perished from the world. And Boromir tried to take it by force? And you escaped? And ran all the way - to me! And here in the wild I have you: two halflings, and a host of men at my call, and the Ring of Rings. A pretty stroke of fortune! A chance for Faramir, Captain of Gondor, to show his quality! Ha!" He stood up, very tall and stern, his gray eyes glinting.


Frodo and Sam sprang from their stools and set themselves side by side with their backs to the wall, fumbling for their sword-hilts. There was a silence. All the men in the cave stopped talking and looked towards them in wonder. But Faramir sat down again in his chair and began to laugh quietly, and then suddenly became grave again.


"Alas for Boromir! It was too sore a trial!" he said. "How you have increased my sorrow, you two strange wanderers from a far country, bearing the peril of Men! But you are less judges of Men than I of Halflings. We are truth-speakers, we men of Gondor. We boast seldom, and then perform, or die in the attempt. Not if I found it on the highway would I take it I said. Even if I were such a man as to desire this thing, and even though I knew not clearly what this thing was when I spoke, still I should take those words as a vow, and be held by them.


"But I am not such a man. Or I am wise enough to know that there are some perils from which a man must flee. Sit at peace! And be comforted, Samwise. If you seem to have stumbled, think that it was fated to be so. Your heart is shrewd as well as faithful, and saw clearer than your eyes. For strange though it may seem, it was safe to declare this to me. It may even help the master that you love. It shall turn to his good, if it is in my power. So be comforted. But do not even name this thing again aloud. Once is enough."


And then there is a confrontation between Faramir and Denethor, with Gandalf and Pippin present, in The Return of the King. You can see Faramir longing for his father's approval for a change, and you can see Denethor angry, furious, spiteful. "To use this thing is perilous. At this hour, to send it in the hands of a witless halfling into the land of the Enemy himself, as you have done, and this son of mine, that is madness."

‎:sigh: And what does the movie do? It shows Faramir take Frodo and Sam by force, taking them and the Ring to Gondor, as his father would have wanted. Then he suddenly, inexplicably changes his mind. I don't remember what they tried to portray as his motivation; I remember I found it singularly unconvincing.

The only explanation I ever heard was that they wanted to show the "drama" of Faramir's decision. Show how "torn" he was.

How could you possibly not think it's dramatic if you have Faramir stand and proclaim the choice before him, explaining why they're in his power, what he could do? Show him there, hand on sword, maybe with quick flashes - movies can do that so well - of him leading armies, winning glory, destroying the armies of Mordor, driving them back from Gondor? Perhaps show his disapproving father who had only loved Boromir cheering him? How could you not think it dramatic to have him point out with a strange smile that now he could easily take what his brother tried to take? To have Frodo and Sam stand and fumble desperately, hopelessly, for sword hilts?

Faramir is Boromir's foil. He is not Boromir. And thus Faramir becomes the mouthpiece of SEVERAL OF THE MOST IMPORTANT THEMES OF THE ENTIRE TRILOGY, ALL CONDENSED INTO A FEW SHORT PARAGRAPHS.

Faramir demonstrates that although Boromir's failure was understandable, he was *not* a mere victim of his circumstances. He was not a strong enough person. He was greatly physically strong, but he loved glory too much.  

Faramir was a great man, a man with strength of will, a man able to lead valiantly in battle when all seemed lost, able to fight when he fully expected to die, and able to refuse the weapon that would bring him victory, life, and glory.  

Faramir stepped aside for Aragorn gladly. Boromir might not have been able to.

Hollywood seems to have this notion that one must teeter on the brink of an evil decision in one's own heart before it is a dramatic decision. That it's not impressive enough that Faramir let them go unless he is almost overmastered. That making the wrong decision temporarily is the only way for a dramatic redemption. That Faramir is just Boromir who manages to hold on to Frodo long enough that he repents before Frodo runs away instead of a little after.

Thus they ruin, they stomp upon, they mutilate, the story of Faramir. The story of a man with such a noble soul that not for a moment would he be truly tempted by such a prize, laid on the table before him.

We already saw Boromir, the brave man, yes, the good man, who was corrupted by a prize beyond him. Alas for Boromir! It was too sore a trial. And we saw him repent in tears and give his life for Merry and Pippin.

We don't need to see Boromir again in the land of Ithilien. No, we want Faramir. We want to know that though the Ring is too much, though placing it within a man's grasp is too much to bear, too sore, that there are those who could stand up to it. We want to know that it is possible, faced with power and glory and everything your heart has long desired - the approval of a father who always favored your brother, who never chose you - still it is possible to say, No, not if I found it on the highway would I take it.

They could have shown the temptation without showing Faramir succumbing to temptation. They could have, and they should have.

Faramir is the strongest sign of a problem which appears in other places in the movies too. Faramir's actions were changed; elsewhere, they limited it to words and attitudes.

Elrond is the clearest other example I'm thinking of. Elrond growing angry at Aragorn for taking his daughter away? No. He said he would not grant her to him for any less cause than bringing the kings of men back to Middle-Earth, but he said it not with anger, but with deep, deep sorrow. We wish to lash out angrily when people threaten what we hold dear... but Elrond would not. Except in the movie, where they will not allow for any characters which are too virtuous.

Ah yes, and Frodo growing angry at Sam and believing Gollum was another truly awful moment. Absurd. Horrific.

One of the reasons why Plato was not a fan of plays: because in the interests of entertainment, actors went out of their way to express disproportionate emotion: rage and grief and laughter all to degrees that would be shameful in a real person. Plato wanted to encourage moderation and restraint in the face of trouble.

What gets me is that movies have the power to show so much more subtleties than plays. They can use clever tricks to show thoughts, to heighten the drama, to do so much with the flicker of an actor's eyelids. They don't have to fall into that trap... but they do. So. Often.

And of course in this case, they made a lot of people very angry, not just me:

http://www.irregularwebcomic.net/comic.php?current=10&theme=2&dir=prev

I don't think it was smart, let alone justified.  Really good heroes do... really well with fans... actually...  Even if it were smart, though, it would not be justified.  They took several major themes of the book, looked them in the eye, and said, "Naw. Why expose the audience to what actual virtue would look like? Let's give 'em some, ah, sort of well-meaning goodness instead. Just like last time with Boromir. Faramir is his brother. Clearly they should be alike."

And what really makes me find it unforgiveable: They made the movie longer to do so. With all that whining about how the books are too long to make into good movies (so be quiet, rabid fans!), *their worst change was one that made them insert another giant scene that was never in the book.*

You can take out Tom Bombadil if you must, but don't you dare replace him with the Abomination of False Faramir.

</rant>

Calling

A year or so ago, I listened to Gaudy Night by Dorothy Sayers on audiobook while I was commuting to USC.  Great book.  That doesn’t even begin to cover it.  It’s a mystery of sorts, and the action is intriguing and interesting… but oh, what she has to say about the human heart!  Sayers was wise.  She really makes me think… hard.

It’s been long enough that I’m not sure I can really describe her argument accurately.  So take it with a grain of salt.  This may or may not be quite what she actually says.  It is what I currently am thinking about in part because I kind of think she said it.  What she actually said is more profound than this, I am sure, and more complete and nuanced and generally wonderful.  Anyway, moving on.

The main character of Gaudy Night is Harriet Vane, an Oxford-educated woman who writes mystery novels in a time when few women were college-educated.  To the extent that that defines her, Harriet Vane is of course an autobiographical character – Dorothy Sayers was an Oxford-educated woman who wrote mystery novels.  It becomes still more interesting because the plot takes place at a reunion of sorts – Harriet is back at Oxford, interacting with her old teachers and classmates, thinking about academic life and what it means.

There are a lot of conversations in this book about calling, about your job.  Some of those have to do with marriage.  Harriet loves her mystery writing in a world where for plenty of women, their only job was marriage and family.  Meanwhile, many people think it’s kind of ghoulish and strange for her to write mysteries because she herself had been falsely accused of murder and very nearly hanged for it.  But she has to write mysteries, and she gets excited about it, and even though she sort of agrees with them mentally that it is a little ghoulish, at heart she doesn’t agree at all.

In this context comes a deeply profound conversation about what your job is.  By your job they mean something much more than what you do for a living, though it may well be what you do for a living if you are lucky.  Miss Devine, one of the teachers, and Harriet are talking, and Miss Devine pretty clearly seems to be the voice of Sayers in the conversation.  I don’t think I have the points in the order they were made, but among other points Miss Devine made in the conversation, she says, first, that when something is really your job, it doesn’t matter how people think you should feel about it, you just have to do it.  Some people, she says, make a person their job.  They give everything to that person, everything.  She doesn’t despise them, she says, but she herself has a more intellectual job.  Harriet asks how one is to know what is really your job.  Miss Devine says one will know because when something is really your job, you don’t make mistakes, not about things that really matter.  Little errors, but not big core mistakes.  It matters too much to you.  You pay attention, and you avoid mistakes.  You take pains over your job.  Harriet asks if taking pains over a thing may be the distinction that means it is your job; Miss Devine says just about, but she still doesn’t think it’s quite as much proof as not making mistakes; it’s easier to trick ourselves into thinking we take pains over a thing than to trick ourselves into thinking we really got it right.  She also says at some point that we know what we want to do by what we do – regardless of what we try to talk ourselves into thinking we want to do.  At some point Miss Devine mentions that she is very concerned about the pernicious effect it has on a person to be someone’s job.  That when a wife or mother makes her husband or children her job, her be-all and end-all, it has a negative effect on the loved one’s character.  Harriet says she thought Miss Devine said she didn’t despise those who make people their job.  “I don’t despise them,” she responds.  “Far from it!  I think they are dangerous.”

If you’re interested in this topic, you should really read the book; there’s so much more thought here that I’m not capturing.  Even the mystery plot contributes to this theme.

Ever since then I’ve been thinking about it off and on on a personal level.  What is it that I do no matter what anyone thinks, no matter what I myself think?  What is it I can’t stand not to do perfectly?  What is it I keep trying and trying to get absolutely right, no matter how difficult that is, no matter how much sleep I lose in the process?

The curious problem for me is, there’s more than one such thing.  That’s why I had so much trouble picking a major.  That’s why it is so difficult for me to settle on a career and stick with it.  Not because I don’t have a career which I love and which is utterly my job.  But because I’m neglecting my other jobs in the process.

It’s the kind of problem you want to have, but it’s still a problem.  There isn’t enough time in the day for three jobs… and I think I have at least three jobs, maybe four, depending on what you count.  Things I cannot happily put aside for any length of time.  Things I pursue earnestly, trying to do my best.

I have hobbies, too.  Jogging and puppetry and piano and knitting.  Chores like cooking and cleaning.  I love my hobbies… but they don’t get done that much.  I don’t love the chores, but I do like the results… but they get done as hastily and with as few pains as I can get away with.  Why?  Because I have at least three jobs.

The least of them is singing.  Perhaps it’s not really a job at all, perhaps it’s just a glorified hobby.  I don’t put in the time I need to get everything really right.  I don’t take lessons anymore and haven’t for a long time.  The force of the other two jobs crowds them out.  I still sing and practice and try to do my best and cringe over little mistakes no one else seems to notice… but I’ve always known I was unlikely to be anything really special there.  That I wasn’t going to be a professional, and that I might not even be capable of making my college choir.  (Unfortunately, choir overlapped with required classes every year, so it is a moot point.)  Still, I’ve joked so many times that if I didn’t sing I would shrivel up and die.  And I do practice every day, in the oddest places and at the oddest times, anytime I can get away with it.  I do warm-ups and drills and songs.  I listen very critically to my own voice and repeat the same line a dozen times until I think I have it.  I was happy, fiercely happy, when I was on choir tour or choir retreat or at Musicale, where my days were consumed by singing.  It has been long, so long, since I could make serious time for it in the midst of everything else.  It is only a third job.  But if not for my first two jobs, it could happily be my job.  If I loved all three the same amount and had thought singing the most, instead of the least, practical, the one where I had the most, instead of the least, natural talent… it might be my first job.  But it is not.  And I wish at times that I had a lifetime to dedicate to singing, but I do not.

The second is writing.  If I can broaden the category, it’s the entire conversation of great literature.  Discussion, philosophy, thought, emotional life.  Reading and writing both.  Story.  Thinking about anything and everything.  When I’m not at work or enjoying time with friends, I’m normally doing something related to this broad category.  The narrow category is not so universally dominant in my life, but it’s still key.  I must write.  I must write stories and I must write little essays like this one.  Are there mistakes?  Yes, oh yes.  And for all the time and all the hundreds of thousands of words I have poured into it, I have never yet finished a story.  I agonize, sometimes, over wishing I had the time to give my everything to writing, to see what I could do.  Would I succeed if it were my top priority?  I don’t know.  I wish I had the chance to find out.  I wish I could look at a book I had written and know it was right, know it was good, know it was well-crafted, as Harriet Vane could do in time.

And the first, the one that I have begun my career working in, is logical problem-solving.  I am a microprocessor design engineer; how much time I have spent, through the years, solving logic puzzles, playing with math, being logical as logical can be!  I love math; everyone who knows me finds that out pretty quickly.  All is right with the world when I can sit there working my puzzles, and I lose track of everything else.  Is math a great thing and a beautiful thing?  Yes.  Is my enjoyment of it disproportionately high?  Yes.  There are other beautiful things; but math is my job.  There are other worthwhile tasks, but I value the mind and the life of thought.  I wish to see everyone appreciate it, to see no one dread it.  I thrill to a well-written line of code.  I try to understand thoroughly, to own the concepts I have heard once.  I try to learn more, and so not only do I have my full-time job, I am taking classes towards my master’s degree, too, studying when I can.

I am an unabashed mathematician, an engineer, a nerd.  I am so happy to have my job, so happy to get to pour myself into something I love.

But if I weren’t an engineer, I would be a writer, or try to be.  I can hardly bear that I am not a writer if I do not stop and remind myself that I am an engineer.

And if I weren’t either of those, I might try to be a singer.

There isn’t enough time for all those things.  Not really.  But I try anyway.  I can’t help it.  Or rather, I suppose I sort of can help it… but it takes something mighty powerful to motivate me to the effort of not attempting to do math/engineering, write, and sing, and to do it right, really right, not one problem incorrect, not one sentence out of place, not one note sour.

I would like to add that I never begrudge the time I spend with my friends, my church, my God.  That there is more to life than even jobs like these.  That when a need is strong sometimes one's duty is to meet that need, regardless of whether it's what you want to do.  That we need the self-discipline to sometimes overpower those desperate urges of the heart and say, no, I want to get this last calculus problem right, and I know my current answer is wrong, but it is time for me to clean up my room so my roommate won't be too distressed when she walks into the room.  To say, I want to delegate this task which is terribly unsuited to me, but right now I'm the only one who can do it, and it must be done.  To say, O God, here am I, send me; I give up my dreams.  But there are also times, many times, when that is not necessary; when you serve the world best by doing your job.

I don’t think my cooking is likely to improve much anytime soon.

What is your job?

Chocolate, The Hobbit, and Cow Wallets; or, Gifts of Many Kinds

I’ve gotten a lot of gifts through the years.  Rather a huge percentage of my significant possessions are gifts, in fact.  I’m the youngest of thirteen and every year for Christmas we buy everyone in the family a present.  This served the double function of making me go practically broke every year and giving me a plethora of presents every year.  And there were other contributing factors, like generous parents.    

These gifts come in many varieties.  Most have joined my very favorite possessions.  Others… well. 

Note that I am not unhappy or ungrateful to receive any of these.  In every case either the person gave me a great gift, or the person had no reasonable way of knowing that they weren’t giving me a great gift and did the best they could.  And, hey, it's a gift, no harm done!

Without further ado, the categories of gifts, named after an actual gift I’ve received.

1. Chocolate.  Ah, chocolate.  Everyone’s favorite taste, it seems.  Especially every woman’s.  Right?  Problem: I actively dislike it.  Even milk chocolate tastes horribly bitter to me, and let’s just forget about dark chocolate.  A couple times it’s made me gag.  Normally I can get it down if I really want to, but I always figured, why go through that when, first of all, there are a whole lot of other people I can give it to who would be thrilled, and secondly, it ain’t veggies?  This category of gifts is for those gifts which most people would be thrilled to receive, but which you actively don’t want.  “Hot chocolate” is something you’re simply entirely ambivalent about or want far less than most people would.  Usually given by kind people who just don’t know you that well.  It’s not their fault, but it is unfortunate.  Saying “thank you” in the right way takes… tact.

2. Final Fantasy X-2.  I really like the Final Fantasy games.  I had just won Final Fantasy X.  X-2 had just come out and I was very excited for it.  Everyone knew it.  It was on my wishlist.  It was pretty much at the top of my wishlist.  And my brother gave it to me.  And I enjoyed it.  This category is for gifts straight from your wishlist.  Of course you like them a lot.

3. The Hobbit.  I had no idea Tolkien would become my favorite author ever.  I didn’t know I simply had to read The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings asap.  Until I got The Hobbit for Christmas one year.  The rest is history.  I can’t imagine my imagination without Tolkien, as my sister Marcy said once.  This category is for presents you love but which you didn’t know you’d love.  Things you didn’t know to ask for but which show a knowledge of you and what kinds of things you treasure.  It’s my favorite kind of present.

4. Dice.  My most-used Christmas present of all time.  When I was a kid I loved turning multiplayer strategy games into solitaire games of chance – a side effect of being the youngest by five and a half years and losing badly every time I ever played a multiplayer strategy game.  Then I used dice to figure out how things went.  I was very good at cannibalizing the 6-sided dice from various games and using them in creative ways for any random number I wanted.  (For a 1 in 4 chance, for example, you roll a die; if it’s 1-4, you’re done; otherwise you remember if it’s a 5 or 6, and on the next die roll, if it’s a 5 or 6 again, a 5-5 is a 1, a 5-6 is a 2, a 6-5 is a 3, and a 6-6 is a 4 – so it usually only takes one roll, but it never takes more than two.)  But when I could, I loved to borrow my brother’s dice set, which contained a 4-sided, 6-sided, 8-sided, 12-sided, and 20-sided die, and two 10-sided dice, one numbered 0-9 and the other numbered in tens from 00-90 – “percent dice,” they’re called, designed to let you use them both to roll from 00-99.  One year he gave me my own dice set, and five years later or so, when I had lost several of them (they do so love to skitter across the floor), he gave me two more sets.  They really were used absurdly often.  This category of gifts is for things you used to borrow all the time and now own yourself.  It is almost always a great gift.  There are exceptions, but not many.

5. Universal gift certificates.  Money.  Always appreciated.  This means you can get whatever it is you really want or need.  Or you can save it and experience a little more safety net.  I call that a win.  The fact remains, of course, that it is a somewhat boring gift, rather less thoughtful than most.  This category is for monetary gifts – there really isn’t anything else that belongs here.

6. Amazon gift certificates.  I love Amazon.  If I’m buying something fun for myself, I’ll probably get it there.  It will usually be books but might be CDs or something.  Thus, Amazon is like universal gift certificates except that it forces me to spend that money on something fun for myself and shows a little more thought.  This category is for gift certificates which are to places where you just love to spend money on fun things.

7. Car.  Not a Christmas present, but a gift from very generous parents and Uncle Sam.  (Cars for Clunkers was involved.)  Um, yeah, it’s an incredibly expensive gift, an incredibly nice one, and an incredibly useful one.  This category is for really expensive nice things which are both toy and tool.  Cars, computers, etc.

8. TiVo.  That’s right, bye-bye, commercials!  One of my sisters got this for the whole family one year.  This category is for expensive toys.  Video game consoles also included.

9. Education.  My parents paid for my college.  This was incredibly expensive.  It kind of fits in the car category – it’s both toy and tool.  My years at Biola in particular were the best years of my life to date – I grew so much, made so many close friends, learned so much, was so alive.  Irreplaceable experiences.  And also what I needed to get the job which enables me to earn a good salary myself.  This category, like the universal gift certificate, doesn’t really include anything else that I can think of.  It’s for tuition money or for something else which is a great educational experience.

10. Ticket to Disneyland.  For my sixth birthday, my brother gave me a Disneyland trip.  He took me there and bought me the ticket.  It was an amazing experience and I’ve never forgotten it.  This category is for gifts of fun experiences, especially with the giver.  It may be an adventure or simply a nice dinner.  They’re quickly over, but always beloved.

11. Cards.  This category is for special ways of saying kind and encouraging words, whether cards or signed T-shirts or any manner of other possibilities.  Many of them have been dearly treasured.

12. Flowers.  When I directed Torrey Music Women’s Ensemble, the women in the ensemble gave me flowers after my last concert.  It was so special, all the more so because it was appreciation for something I did.  This category is for gifts which are a form of recognition and which make you think of an accomplishment when you see them.  It’s for gifts which show that someone else appreciates or respects what you have done.  Pretty much every graduation gift falls into this category if given in the right spirit.

13. Grow-Your-Own-Princess.  Because my best friend has a wicked sense of humor.  A small gellike castle, crown, and frog which will expand if you put them in water.  Given to me all of a couple months ago.  This category is for gag gifts whose point is to make you laugh.  I regifted this one in a white elephant gift exchange, but it had already served its purpose. 

14. Cow wallet.  A cross between the Grow-Your-Own-Princess category and a more useful category.  My friends gave me a wallet with a cow on it and lots of cartoon drawings of milk and sayings like “Why don’t you drink a lot of milk regularly?”  I needed a wallet, so it was a real and useful gift… but it was also a gag gift designed to make me laugh.  And yes, I still use that wallet.  It embarrasses me in public regularly… and it makes me smile just about every time I look at it.  This category is for funny yet useful gifts.

And I'm sure there are many other categories which I missed.  Truly there are many varieties of gifts, but the same Christmas.  Let us be generous to each other during the Christmas season and throughout the year.  Have you given someone a cow wallet lately?

Translating Legalese, or, How a Company Could Quickly Gain My Affection and Loyalty

Imagine downloading a new program.  Let’s say you download a program called Narsil from a company called Elendil.  You see the End User License Agreement come up.  You know where this is going.  You might like to know in what ways you’re signing your soul away… but your eyes glaze over in about five seconds.  It’s accept them unread, or spend the equivalent of a few days of your life poring over the things. 

But wait!  This document comes up instead!

Why We’re Doing This

It’s really easy to get sued these days.  If we don’t make you sign something like this, we leave ourselves open to all kinds of ridiculous lawsuits.  But we don’t want to take advantage of that.  We think you deserve to know what you’re signing away.  If you don’t think it’s reasonable, let us know, and in the meanwhile, don’t download the software.  We hope that you will think it’s reasonable.

Unfortunately, the only real way to make sure that no judge or lawyer misinterprets what we’re saying is to write in really inaccessible legalese.  And that means, of course, that you our customer have almost no chance of understanding what on earth this document means.  So we’ve decided on a compromise. In the black writing below, we have the End User License Agreement in all its legalistic glory.  That’s what we’ll be bound by in court.  But in blue italics, we’re going to try to give you a good description of what it means in plain English.  We don’t dare promise legally that the italics are an exact description of the agreement in the black – but we will promise you that we tried to make it clear.  Our goal is not to confuse you or to trick you.  Our goal is to build trust.

ENGLISH

Elendil Inc.

Software License Agreement for Narsil

Please read this software license agreement ("License") carefully before using the

Elendil software. By using the Elendil software, you are agreeing to be bound by the terms

of this License. If you do not agree to the terms of this License, do not use the software.

If you do not agree to the terms of the License, you may return the Elendil software to the

place where you obtained it for a refund. If the Elendil software was accessed

electronically, click "disagree/decline". For Elendil software included with your purchase

of hardware, you must return the entire hardware/software package in order to obtain a

refund.

If you use Narsil, we can hold you to what’s written here, so read it carefully.  If you don’t want to agree to this document, click “disagree.”

Important Note: To the extent that this software may be used to reproduce materials, it is

licensed to you only for reproduction of non-copyrighted materials, materials in which

you own the copyright, or materials you are authorized or legally permitted to

reproduce. To the extent that this software may be used for remote access to music

files for listening between computers, remote access of copyrighted music is only

provided for lawful personal use or as otherwise legally permitted. If you are uncertain

about your right to copy or permit access to any material you should contact your legal

advisor.

Don’t use Narsil for illegal copying or illegally sharing music files between distant computers.  Only copy or share files if you’re sure it’s legal.  Copyright law is a real mess, so in some cases you might have to talk to a lawyer.

1. General. The Elendil and any third party software, documentation and any fonts

accompanying this License whether on disk, in read only memory, on any other media or in

any other form (collectively the "Elendil Software") are licensed, not sold, to you by Elendil Inc.

("Elendil") for use only under the terms of this License, and Elendil reserves all rights not

expressly granted to you. The terms of this License will govern any software upgrades

provided by Elendil that replace and/or supplement the original Elendil Software product,

unless such upgrade is accompanied by a separate license in which case the terms of that

license will govern.

Title and intellectual property rights in and to any content displayed by or accessed through

the Elendil Software belongs to the respective content owner. Such content may be protected

by copyright or other intellectual property laws and treaties, and may be subject to terms of

use of the third party providing such content. This License does not grant you any rights to

use such content.

1. General.  We’re letting you use our software, but it’s still our intellectual property.  We have agreements to include some software from other companies, and it still belongs to them, not you.

This document applies to all upgrades as well unless the upgrade says otherwise.

2. Permitted License Uses and Restrictions.

A. Subject to the terms and conditions of this License, you are granted a limited nonexclusive

license to install and use the Elendil Software. To the extent that the Elendil Software

may be used to reproduce materials, such use is limited to reproduction of non-copyrighted

materials, materials in which you own the copyright, or materials you are authorized or legally

permitted to reproduce. You may not make the Elendil Software available over a network

where it could be used by multiple computers at the same time. You may make one copy of

the Elendil Software in machine-readable form for backup purposes only; provided that the

backup copy must include all copyright or other proprietary notices contained on the original.

2. Under this agreement, you can use Narsil.  But you can’t put it up on a network to be used by several computers at once.  You can just use it on one computer.  You can make one backup copy also, as long as that backup copy includes all the copyright notices.

...and so it would continue to the end.

I would be pretty excited, and probably much more eager to give my money to such a company.

I wonder if it could be legally made to work?

Love is a Feeling.

It’s popular, so popular, in Christian circles to say that love is an action.  But I don’t think that’s so.

Love is a feeling.  Love is an emotion.  An emotion which drives us to action.

The power of that love is known in its effects.  We cannot claim to love someone if we will not sacrifice for them.  If we will not give up selfish desires when they are in need and we can help them.  For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life.  Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil, does not rejoice in iniquity but rejoices in the truth, bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.  No matter how warm and fuzzy you feel about someone, if you parade yourself before them, if you envy their good fortune, if you are rude to them, you do not love them.

But though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, but have not love, it profits me nothing.

Love motivates us to do good, but doing good itself is not love.  If I bestow all my goods to feed the poor out of pride, out of desire for the praise of men, or even because I want more and better stuff in heaven, I cannot point to my actions and say that they prove I love, that they are love.  I do not love.

Love is an emotion.  If I feel only coldness toward a fellow human being, let me not say I love them.  Love does not behave rudely because love feels too much warmth and goodwill to feel irritation.  Love does not envy because love deeply desires the good of the other and is happy when it comes to pass.  Let me not say I love if I do not envy because “after all I could only pity someone so foolish” or “I don’t need such stupid stuff.”  Let me not say I love if I do not behave rudely solely because I manage to bridle my tongue while feeling rage and irritation in my heart.  Self-control is good, and I do not say to unleash that rage upon another.  But in itself it is not love.

Let us love in action and in truth, with our heart, soul, mind, and strength.  If you think you love in your heart but refuse to exert your strength, you do not love.  But neither do you love if you exert all your strength to action but your heart remains aloof.

May the God of love give us His great love today, His love which caused Him to weep for Jerusalem, His love which brought Him down to earth to die.

For God is my witness, that I yearn for you all with the affection of Christ Jesus.  And it is my prayer that your love may abound more and more, with knowledge and all discernment, so that you may approve what is excellent and so be pure and blameless in the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ, to the glory and praise of God.