One Year in Oregon: A Retrospective

As of Wednesday, I will have been in Oregon for one full year.  This time last year, I had meant to be starting to drive up; instead, I spent the whole day packing my brother’s and nephew’s stuff into the moving truck, asymptotically approaching done as we got more and more exhausted.  That evening, I slept at their place; the next day, we finished up the last bits of packing and drove off to the first and only July rain I have ever seen in Los Angeles – its own special good-bye, it seemed – and made it up to around Redding before stopping at a Motel 6.  The next day, August 1^st, my Oregon anniversary, we crossed the border and made it to my apartment complex just barely too late for them to let me check in, so I stayed at my brother and nephew’s new place for one last night before moving in.  I moved in on August 2^nd.

So yesterday is the anniversary of the day I moved all my earthly goods out of my parents’ house and struck out on my own, though my Oregon anniversary is only almost here.  Seems like a good time for a retrospective.

So here’s some highlights of the year, some things I’ve learned about Oregon, some changes I’ve noticed in myself… all thrown together in one jumbled rambling retrospective.  One year down.

Hiking.  I’ve sure done it a lot more now.

Oregon drivers think inconsiderate drivers are people who give them a tiny jolt of extra adrenaline.  Los Angeles drivers (including myself) think inconsiderate drivers are people who drive down a one-lane road, or the fast lane of a wider road, at 5 mph under the (low) speed limit when there’s nothing particularly interesting going on in front of them.  Or exactly at the speed limit, for that matter.

I now know where the controls for my car’s bright headlights are.

Layers are such useful things. 

Yeah, those stories about people who live in cold climates actually having their bodies change to compensate?  Apparently it’s true.  My temperature sense is way closer to a normal Angeleno’s now.  Of course, I’m still not much for the cold by Oregonian standards.

Last year, I didn’t know I was anemic.  This year, I know… and thanks to iron, I’m running faster than I ever have before.

Yogurt-based fruit smoothies are some of the most delicious things ever.  I can practically feel them nourishing me.  And what do you know, eating a large quantity of fruits and vegetables seems to really help one feel healthy.  Who’d have thought?

A new sister-in-law!  Such a beautiful wedding.  Getting all 13 of us siblings together for the first time in almost 19 years was a nice highlight too!

Last year, I had danced only a low single-digit number of times.  Now I am quite decent at English country dancing.  ^__^

Last year, I knew all the theory, but I knew very little about how electrical engineering… works… in practice.  Now I know so much more about that side of things.  I’m a professional RTL coder, I am.

Cleaning an apartment where you live alone is not automatic, but it is *much* easier than cleaning a rambling old two-story house with a basement in Los Angeles where you grew up with a huge family.  And in either place, FlyLady is your friend.

REI is your friend.

On an Oregon hike, you shouldn’t wear jeans.  This is completely counterintuitive to me.

The air is always fresh, always clean – though it might have a little pollen in the spring and mildew in the winter, still, no smog.  Ever.

Oh, In-N-Out, I miss you.

Flaggers are crazy.  Oregon is crazy.  Seriously, I’m pretty sure our lives would be happier up here if they rerouted traffic.  But no, it’s more fun to hire someone to stand there and BREAK EVERYTHING.

Sure is nice, having freeway meters where they stagger the greens so one lane gets green at a time, instead of turning it into a game of chicken…

Balls.  Dinners at Shari’s.  Bible study.  Tutoring some wonderful kids and eating dinner with their wonderful families.  Camping trips – two of them. 

I’ve gone from less than nothing (in debt to my dad) to five figures in my bank account.  And stock and a 401k and health insurance all my own, no less.  While upping my standard of living significantly, furnishing my apartment, obtaining cold weather clothes, etc.

I can sure be extroverted when I live alone… and I sure spend more time on Facebook that way.

Reading in the woods is *splendid.*  My apartment is *splendid.*

Friends – It’s so strange to realize that this time last year, I didn’t know all these wonderful Oregonians.  I have been blessed, no question.

Dilbert is a documentary.  ;)

God is faithful… again and again.  A thousand times I’ve failed; still Your mercy remains.

Portland is a beautiful town, er, city.  I never get over the view on the bridge over the Willamette.  And the forest around the city… there are no words.  The river, the forest, the mountains, the elegant buildings and public art, all combine to make it incredible.

The Gorge: the Columbia River Gorge, a.k.a. Land O’ the Best Hikes EVAR.

Powell’s Books.  ‘Nuff said.

I never dreamed apples could taste so good.

I know my Oregon geography better now, though it’s certainly no match for my Los Angeles and California geography…

I had people call me brave.  Interesting to move and see how far you’ve come – a few years back, I don’t think anyone would have thought me brave.  I was always the girl of a thousand crippling fears.

Adults have so many choices.  So incredibly many choices.

Mostly I guess I’ve learned that I can do this living on my own thing, even a thousand miles from home, by God’s grace, and it’s scary and it’s a big change and it takes so much work and planning, but it’s also exciting, rewarding, satisfying. 

No, this doesn’t sum up the year, not nearly… but it’s something to honor this occasion, at least.

Here’s to many more such years.

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes,
How do you measure, measure a year?
In daylight, in moonlight, in starlight, in cups of coffee,
In inches, in miles, in laughter and strife?
In five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes,
How do you measure a year in the life?
How about love? 
Measure in love.  
Seasons of love.

-"Seasons of Love," Rent (from memory, so may not be verbatim)

(Though this is a leap year, so that should really be five hundred twenty-seven thousand, forty minutes.)

Believe. Act. Receive by grace.

Today I heard an almost-true sermon.

Or, well, hm, how shall I put this?  I’m not sure that the pastor is wrong.  I am sure that the nuances I noticed him say today (and I was zoned out for just enough of his sermon, thinking about things like these nuances, that I probably did not notice every relevant thing he said) are things that are very scripturally problematic.  I am worried that people believe those problematic nuances.

I wouldn’t be surprised if when I’m done saying what I think here, a lot of other people think that this has scripturally problematic nuances.  Because I am pretty sure that there are actual disagreements here.

And by the way, I’ve changed my mind about this since I was a small child, so I really wouldn’t be surprised if other people disagree – I did.

I do also have a pretty strong opinion here.  Yes, I think I’m right.  That’s kind of the definition of having an opinion at all...

I’m not sure I’ll even present what the “other side” is, though.  I think I’ll simply say what it is I think.  Maybe the pastor would in fact agree with what I write here.  I’m not sure.  I’ll leave you to find places you disagree and decide after reading whether you still disagree.  “Picking sides” can be profitable, but it isn’t always, and here I think it would not be.

Rest assured that the pastor’s sermon was not totally heretical like a great many possible disagreements from what I’m about to say would be.  I’m trying to write many of the basics of the Christian faith, but with the nuances which I believe, not the nuances I heard in the sermon today.  The disagreement is not in the main point, but in subtleties.  “Mere Christianity” still stands as one for the vast majority of this.

Really I’m using this sermon more as a prompt, a leaping-off point, than as a thing to argue against.

Without further ado:

All of God’s gifts are gifts we receive by grace, and almost all are gifts which we must also believe and act in order to receive.

How does that tension work?

As Dr. Reynolds once said in a lecture (paraphrased from my memory), God sees our feeble efforts, our faintest stirrings of reaching toward Him, and He says, “That’s enough!  Just a little righteousness!  I’ll treat you as if you were as righteous as My Son.”

Belief and good actions do not mean that we merit God’s good gifts.  They do not mean that we earned them.  We did not.  We aren’t even close.

God in His goodness multiplies our efforts so far beyond what we could ever earn.

We are given eternal salvation, justification, the Holy Spirit living inside us, answers to prayers, and incredible assistance in living well each day, all simply when we believe that Jesus is Lord and begin to intend to serve Him.  That belief should not make us feel smug or righteous.  All our righteousness is as filthy rags, but he washes us and dresses us in bright robes of his own.  Our feeble effort does not come close to paying for our sin.

Yet that feeble effort is the price God requires.  He asks for belief and, yes, for the intent to serve Him.  Is that enough?  Not even close, except by the work Christ did on the cross – the most absurd extremity of grace.  Can we congratulate ourselves on this salvation?  No, no, a thousand times no!  Can we even say we are better than those who do not believe?  No, no, all have sinned, all have offended God abominably, and do you truly believe that under no circumstances would you fail to believe in Jesus?  If so, you are quite deluded.

Believe, act, and receive by grace a life superabundantly beyond anything you could ever earn.

Your salvation?  Believe, act, and receive by grace what for all your efforts, you did not earn.

Knowledge of Scripture?  Believe, act, and receive by grace what for all your efforts, you did not earn.  No one can deserve the blessing of knowing God’s words to humanity and seeing how it can aid us today.  No one can deserve the promptings of the Holy Spirit as to how God’s words to, say, King David affect how we live today.  But by God’s grace, and, yes, a boatload of study, many people do achieve a great knowledge of Scripture.  They did not study enough to earn it, but God chose to bless their study with knowledge.

A happy marriage?  Believe, act, and receive by grace what for all your efforts, you did not earn.  (And if, like me, you have no such thing, do not curse God as if you had earned it and He withheld it.)  No one can deserve to possess and be possessed by another soul in love.  But many do receive that, by God’s grace and, yes, a boatload of hard work and faithfulness – but not nearly enough hard work and faithfulness to earn it.

Contentment in all circumstances?  Believe, act, and receive by grace what for all your efforts, you did not earn.  No one can deserve the knowledge that we are God's children and He will give us what we really need.  No one can deserve to be taken care of by the love of the omnipotent creator.  No one can deserve the "peace that passes understanding" - yet as Paul said when talking about how he had learned to be content with little or with much, "I can do all things through Him who strengthens me" - with only a little belief and trust and the grace of God, we can receive contentment.  Christ strengthens us, and our little effort is multiplied a thousandfold in its effects.

God gives sun and rain to the righteous and the unrighteous.  If you want to produce a large crop you had better do some work… and acknowledge that however much you work, that crop is still a gift, that only by God’s incredible power and aid does a seed become a plant.  We plant and God gives the growth.

Believe, act, and receive by grace.  All those things belong together.  They are not contradictory.  We are not saved by works we do.  We are not saved because our faith pleased God so much He realized it just wouldn’t be right to withhold salvation from such stalwart souls.  Yet by God’s grace, we are saved through faith.  Have faith, and as James says, help the widow and the orphan; do good in God’s name.  Be humbled by God’s great mercy and by the wonder of the cross.  Never believe you have earned the smallest gift, but never stop working out your salvation with fear and trembling.  It is God who works in you.

Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me, a sinner.  Holy Spirit, help me to do Your will.  Father in heaven, how You have blessed me, how You love me, how gracious You are!  O God, I can never thank You enough, but that does not mean I should give up saying it.  Thank You, thank You, a thousand times thank You!  For Your Son, for life itself, for sustaining me with joy, for leading me to Oregon, for sun and rain, for evergreen trees, for my family, for laughter, for health, for pain which leads me toward holiness, for comfort in sorrow, for men and women who showed me what it is to love You, for Scripture, for the Holy Spirit, for answers to prayer at my lowest points.  You are Lord.  Give me the courage and the will to honor You.

Books that have changed my perspective in important ways

Books. They really do have the power to change your life. To change your perspective. To show you things you never thought of before. To insert an image that sticks with you and makes your life beautiful. Good thing, because otherwise that's a lot of time I would now be thinking of as a waste.

There are some general ways in which reading has been good for me. Expanding my world, teaching me to compassionately understand people in very different situations and cultures, helping me to think clearly and to express myself clearly, etc., etc. I'm not going to get into all of those now. This time, I want to write a post which honors some of the books which have been most influential in my life and mentions some of the specific ways in which they changed things for me. Some of these taught me a key lesson. Some portrayed something beautiful or interesting. Some included one image or one emotion that I have never been able to forget.

I may add to this post at other times. I could be writing this for a long, long time. But for now, without further ado, a beginning of a post to honor books that have changed my perspective in important ways, and through changing my perspective have changed my life.

The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis: "Is he... safe?" "Safe? Who said anything about safe? Of course he's not safe. But he's good."

The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien: For encouragement to face the Shadow wherever it hides. "Always, after a defeat and a respite, the Shadow takes another shape and grows again." Yet it does continue to be defeated, sometimes by the unlikeliest heroes.

I Corinthians: For showing me what love means and that it truly is more important than anything else I can do. "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 with the truth, bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things."

The Curse of Chalion by Lois Master Bujold: because when I think of loyalty I think of Cazaril's scarred back and how he came back to serve again and again. May I perform my duty and love those I serve half, nay, a tenth as well as Cazaril. 

The Sarantine Mosaic by Guy Gavriel Kay: "It's just a _____." "No. This is a death." For teaching me how to grieve, and how to allow myself to grieve what is not a literal death. For teaching me about loving despite the fear of loss. For teaching me about the meaning of art. And for making me wish with all my might to see a mosaic in a dome, and when I got my wish years later, to know what to look for.

The Lord of the Rings: Faramir's courage. Not to love honor and power and the good opinion of others for themselves, but for the good things they can protect. Strength of character to turn down the Ring. Strength to defy his father, the man whose good opinion he most wanted, when necessary. Strength to go into battle as the greatest of captains even though he did not truly love war when it was necessary to protect his home. Strength not to be angry at how his brother always overshadowed him.

Perelandra by C.S. Lewis: May I always remember to treasure the good I am given and not spoil it with complaints about missing the inferior good I expected.

Philippians: Because in Christ we always have reason for joy. Because God does good even in terrible circumstances. Because Christ Jesus, the one man who deserved the most, gave it up and accepted the worst of punishments for our sake, and He is our example. Because from Christ's example we can learn to give up our rights for others. Because God does give us peace when we pray about all our anxieties.

Genesis: Because it may take years to see, but God has a plan even when people mean their actions for evil. Joseph's brothers couldn't thwart Him.

The Soldier Son Trilogy by Robin Hobb: Because of perhaps the first fully sympathetic, detailed look I ever came across at how awful it would be to be obese. Yes, sometimes something that simple, done right, can make a book great.

The Lord of the Rings: An enemy can be won into a friend just by looking at him with understanding, as Gimli was won by Galadriel.

A Call to Die by David Nasser: For challenging me to take my faith very seriously and showing me some of the tangible things that could mean.

The Night Angel Trilogy by Brent Weeks: For showing that even assassins and prostitutes can be redeemed and delving deeply into exactly what it would take to do so.

Tigana by Guy Gavriel Kay: For making me reflect on times when a kind of pride is redemptive, not destructive, and what differentiates the two. And for the purest representation I have read of revenge and what it does and how it mingles with and sabotages love.

The Lord of the Rings: For showing that sometimes the battles that hurt the most happen when we return home and see evil at work... but our struggles elsewhere will give us the strength we need to overcome it.

Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy: Because of how vitally important it is to do our duty and to do it passionately. Karenin lacked passion and Anna lacked any sense of duty and they both destroyed themselves and those around them. 

The Night Angel Trilogy by Brent Weeks: For showing clearly what happens when you say "No" to God in just one little thing.

Mordant's Need by Stephen R. Donaldson: Because of Geraden and Eremis, who showed me how to separate "good" from "cool." Trust someone who is good at heart, loyal, and kind, even when he is also clumsy, awkward, and seemingly no good at anything; never trust someone just because he is suave, charismatic, clever, and good with words, if it appears that he may also be manipulative, cold, and selfish. Geraden will not let you down in the end.

The Silver Chair by C.S. Lewis: Because even if the Good were a lie it would be worth fighting for, though praise God! it is not a lie.

Matthew: "Do not worry therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows." God watches and cares for us at all times.

This is a beginning. There are many more. But let this suffice for part one.

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?