Category Archives: Random

Les Mis

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If you have not seen a presentation of Les Miserables, what are you doing reading this non-blog? Seriously. Stop now and go acquire a copy and watch.

Right. I’m sure you did.

Ha. I just wrote the word acquire. I bet there are a handful of people out there who think EXACTLY what I do when that word is used. They know. If you don’t, you will. But not now. I love that word and what it represents to me and those others I mentioned.

I’m getting back to Les Mis soon.

But, I need to pause and sing…”if I were a rich man….bididibidibi…….HUH” It is on Pandora. My station is called “If I Were a Rich Man.” I love it. Since I started my new job on July 1, I have listened to this station exclusively (except like the first hour or so when I had it on Praise and Worship). I am enamored with Fiddler on the Roof, Sound of Music, Phantom of the Opera, and Les Miserables.

Les Miserables. First and foremost. I referred to it as Les Mis above. I did that on purpose. Even though it grates on my nerves like the word BLOG. I just don’t like shortened words. They annoy me. SUV. Seriously? Just say Sport Utility Vehicle. Do we not have enough time to say the words? Ugh! It bothers me. But then it bothers me that it bothers me. Its an endless loop. Yes. I realize, that means I’m not far from some form of mental disorder. So be it. I love God and I love people. That’s what Jesus said is most important. Being crazy is not wrong.

You know something though, I am not self-righteous about taking shortcuts on things like words. I hate it. Maybe it is my love of grammar…uh oh…I think if I keep that last phrase in here, I have opened myself up to endless grammatical attacks from now on. But you know what, bring it on. I love grammar discussions. And if I make a mistake, I thoroughly embrace the correction. Got it? Bring it!

Whew…back to the not original topic…I take short cuts in strange areas, so I have no right to judge. I try to only have shoes with no shoe strings, or get them large enough that I can slip them on and off without tying, untying….then doing that over and over hundreds of times for the life of that shoe. WHAT??? Its not the time loss that bothers me. Just the thought of doing that task again makes me want to throw a shoe. And seriously, do not get me started on buttons on shirts. ohhhh, boy….anxiety is setting in. If a neck button on my oxford shirt does not go in the first time, it is possible that I have a terrible day. That button has nothing to do in life except

go
in
the
button
hole (I reallly wanted to use another word)

Mom. Its ok. I just leaned back. Took a breath. I’m good. I’m back on topic.

(You’ll read about my mom later. And my dad. They are simply amazing. You’ll see if you don’t already know)

Les Miserables. That story captures me. There is no doubt that my heart expands watching it, listening to the sound track, and even talking or thinking about it. I used to show the Liam Neeson version to my drop-out prevention classes. Just because I thought they needed to see it. And I wanted to talk to them about the message. I never got to see it on stage. Though I’ve heard its not necessarily as good to watch on stage.

Stay here.

Man. The story of redemption. Love. Forgiveness. Ransom. WOW!

Jean Valjean. What a hero. Maybe the best there is outside of Jesus of course. And little ones, Jesus IS a hero. The best. Why don’t more adults pattern their life after him you might wonder? I wonder too. I wonder why I don’t too. I think I do. Then I realize that I fall so far short.

Which brings me to my main point. I love Jean Valjean. If you seriously haven’t seen it, I recommend maybe starting with Liam Neeson version. Not a musical. It just tells the story. In short, Jean is redeemed by a man who had every right to condemn him. Jean spends the rest of his life carrying on that love and forgiveness. The story is not that simple. Yet, at the same time, it is just that simple.

So, I was watching it recently. The 2012 version with Hugh Jackman and Russell Crowe (shhhhh…don’t start in on him…enough…he did fine). Boy, I tear up so much watching it. I so badly want to identify with Jean Valjean. And I try. I often think I am succeeding. But I’m telling you something my friends, when I heard Inspector Javert singing about the righteous being rewarded for following the law and working hard, I got absolutely punched in the face and stomach at the same time. (“One Day More” is on now…I’ve got chills). Javert simply could never get the point. And we are so much more like him than we want to acknowledge. He wanted people to suffer for their sins, their crimes. Even himself. He could not grasp redemption. He could not understand grace. It was cut and dry to him. Follow the law and you are rewarded with peace. Break the law and you suffer. Jean Valjean completely destroyed the Inspector. With love. Grace. Redemption. The Inspector could not accept it. He ended his life lost. Alone. Only because he could not forgive. Couldn’t forgive others. Nor himself.

I’m trying hard to be like Valjean. I want to be like him. I want to be like Jesus who said, “Father forgive them. They know not what they do.” Freedom.

But I find myself too often wanting justice. For me and for others.

That is fine. If I let the judge decide. He knows how to judge. I don’t. Can you help me remember that? I am not the judge. I am not the jury. There’s only one judge. And He judges me unjustly by my own standards. Why can’t I let him do the same for all?

This Is Not A Blog

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I read John Acuff’s book Start.

I decided to start a blog. I feel lame for doing this. I’m copying him. Too many people have blogs. I know this. But I don’t read any. I have family and friends who write them. And they are good, smart, funny, and valuable.

I’m not sure why I don’t read them. I think it might be that I don’t like the word BLOG. Seriously. I hear it, read it, or write it, and I get an irritated feeling in my stomach. Not a lactose intolerant feeling. More like a feeling you get when you meet someone and for no reason at all that you can identify, you just don’t like them. You try to suppress that feeling. Especiallysince you are a Christian person. What right do you have to just simply not like them?

I don’t like writing that I don’t like someone. I want to like everyone. But I also like openness. Honesty. And not liking someone is not a sin. I hope. Not loving someone is wrong. But not liking them, it seems to me, is optional. Maybe you’re not following me. Whatever. That’s for another day.

Back to the word BLOG.
I’m not kidding. I have this faint feeling like, “who do you think you are? making up a word. combining words web and log (is that correct? is that where the word comes from?) to make B L O G.” There it is again. That feeling.

You ever read Gladwell’s Blink? Basically, he says that our gut feeling is almost always right. Our first instinct. Its a great book. Fun at least. Well, what I am saying is that from the moment I heard BLOG I didn’t like it. And I still don’t. I trust my blink instincts. There’s something not right about BLOG.

There are a few other words or acronyms that became words that make me bothered too. First one to come to mind is SUV. I can’t start on that one. I’ll get way off topic. But I promise, I’ll come back to SUV at some point.

When I decided to start a web log, I had no clue. Of course I looked up “how to start a blog.” ugh. Just searching that made me want to stop. My wife sent me a link. I opened it about three times. I could not read it. The only thing I got from it was when she read some to me. Basically, I could use a free blog site or get my own domain name. To keep it short and readable, I didn’t want to do either one. And basically, I knew I wouldn’t do either one.

So, being brilliant, (and I mean that literally…but I also mean it in a self-effacing way…which is ironic and probably another long tangent), I emailed one of my smart brothers. I have two smart brothers. I’ll write about them often I’m certain. I also have four smart sisters (I literally just stopped, closed my eyes, and counted out slowly while picturing each of my sisters heads so I could be sure I got the number correct…which is why I call them all smart). Three of my sisters are adopted. They are the smartest out of all of us. Sorry other siblings.

That one may sit with them for a while. Considering that our youngest adopted sister has Down Syndrome (I had to google that to see if there was a S on the end or not). But, I’m telling you, she’s smarter than all of us.

Can you stay connected to my line of thinking?

I emailed my smart brother, J.R. Go ahead. Picture him…I know you were anyway. His name is J.R. He lives in Lula, Ga. I think. Maybe it is Baldwin. I’m not sure. With big sprawling cities, its hard to tell where one city starts and the next one ends.

He is not what you picture. Perhaps he will confirm this by inserting a picture of himself. He’s smart enough to do that.

My brother, J.

 

The reason he would do that, or have access, is because my original point was that I asked him and his wife Kayla to host my blog. I had no answers to their questions. Do you want to have your own website? What format do you want? What is the blog going to be about? What is that smell?

Basically, I am brilliant. I wanted to write things that I thought would be interesting to write. Mr. Acuff told me to start a blog. I didn’t know how to nor did I want to associate with the word BLOG. But that didn’t stop me. I asked my smart brother J.R. to be my organized brother who took my brilliant ideas and put them in a format on the internet that fit his preference. As far as I know, this happened. If not, so what. I’m writing these things down and it feels like a brain massage. I have all these random Seinfeldian thoughts in my head and I just want to get them out. Talking about them is occasionally fun for me and entertaining for others. But more often than not, it makes people feel like they do when they meet someone and for no reason that they can identify, they don’t like them.