Changes

In the next few weeks, there will be a few major changes in my life.  Gabriel's mom, my spouse for the last four years, is moving out of our apartment, and we will start the divorce process.  Big news.  Sad news.  You may be asking at this point why I am choosing to blog about this in a public forum, and the answer is simple: writing not only helps me understand my own feelings, but this method also allows me to share my thoughts and wishes with many friends and family in a simple way.

For those that know us, you understand that we do not live in Camelot, nor have we ever pretended to be anything other than we were.  We, like so many other couples, have had our ups and downs.  This is not a sudden choice based off of a single act but the realization of what is best for our son and each other.  I want Gabe's mom to be happy-- period.  We will continue to be friends and parents to our precocious child.  I will forever be grateful to her for showing me the Academic world in which I excel and for bringing our son into the world, who makes me smile every day.

You may have noticed that I refer to my spouse as Gabe's mom.  This is intentional; I don't want to use the term "Ex-wife" in describing my future relationship with her.  She is the mother of my son, and he loves her.  It is important that he sees a high level respect from me, and I feel that overusing the term "Ex" dehumanizes the individual and leads to cutting comments and bad gossip.  My son deserves better, and I want him to be nurtured in an environment free of aggression towards his parents.

For those wanting to reach out, I am offering a list of ways to ease this change for all of us.

Don't say "I told you so."  Really.  Not only is a statement like that distasteful in the first place, it is not the kind of energy that I want to be around or associate with.  We all need to heal, and I ask for respect and love instead of spite and nay-saying.  Positive thoughts and words will foster a healthier stage for all of us to deal with this major change.

Don't add any fuel to the fire.  Don't ask for any specific details about my marriage from me or offer any gossip.  It will not make me feel better, and I do not want to expose my shortcomings as entertainment. (See the previous paragraph about positive loving energy)

Don't point fingers or ask someone else to.  Marriage, as with everything in life, is complicated.  I wish there was a simple answer to explain it all to me, but there isn't.  Rather than dwell on what went wrong in my relationship, I want to grow into a better person.  The "blame game" is not productive and only leads to bitterness.  Don't enable me to become stuck in a rut.  I need to move on.

Call me.  I know that I am horrible at answering my phone, and I will work on that.  I haven't had any happy news for some time, and I felt that no one would want to listen to me, but I want to be a friend again.

Forgive me for hiding for so long.  I have been a bad friend.  I am sorry.  Give me another shot at friendship.  I miss you, and I could use your friendship again right now. (This applies to many, many people)

Message me.  I am great at returning emails, and I am somewhat proficient at returning facebook messages.  Keep in touch and let me know about happy things in your life.  Sharing your happiness with me makes me smile, and I like to smile.  Please don't hesitate in shining your sun in my direction.

Love my son.  This is the most important thing that you can do.  If you live near us, and you see him, give him a big hug and tell him what a wonderful child he is.  If you live farther away, keep him in your thoughts/prayers/meditations.  He will be the one to experience the most change, and while I know that he is excited to have two homes, I worry about him.  I want him to have the best in life.  I feel like I have failed him with this change, but I know that he is better off having parents who are friends rather than having parents that cannot talk to each other from years of fighting.  He is a beautiful child, deserving of the purest love you can give.

Respect his mother.  I do not want Gabe to be torn apart in the middle of this divorce.  If you cannot be kind and respectful of his mom, then you do not need to be a part of his life or mine.

Find me a couple roommates!  I will have a three bedroom apartment in Manhattan that will soon have two empty rooms.  The rooms are cheaply priced, so that I can get the right people to live with me.  If you are going to Columbia or just want to live in Morningside Heights, message me and we will talk. I want to make some new friends and get involved in my own life again, so help me create an awesome apartment.

Buy me a motorcycle.  This is a long shot, but if you are sitting on some extra money and can't think of how to be supportive, I want to get back on a bike soon!  

I am not expecting the next few moths to be easy, but I am full of hope in starting this new chapter of my life and excited about the diverse possibilities.  Although this is not the reality that I had dreamed about, I know that we are taking the right steps to a happier life for all three of us.

Scoot Scoot

We are learning to be nicer to the other kids at the playpark.  When I say we, I really mean me.  Little Man is happy to walk in circles and wave at everyone, but I don't have the patience for mean older kids.  Rather than stare the bullies down until they hide in a corner, I walked up to them with Little Man and assured him that he could play with the unoccupied toys no matter what the older kids said.  I may not be able to fix other kids, but I will try my best to give my son the confidence to not be upset by their antics.  

Fire Engine

The kind firemen next door let Little Man climb behind the wheel this evening and take the engine for a spin.

What a lucky boy!

Adventure in Central Park

Yesterday Little Man and I went to Central Park to find a new playground, and we found a great one.  Hecksher Playground is close to Columbus Circle, and it is heaven for a young climber.  With castle walls to climb and bridges to run over, we had a party.  We will go back on a warmer day because they even have a water feature that looks even more fun.

Gabe, in true form, made many friends.  One young girl followed him everywhere and yelled at any other kid who got too close to him.  This park was filled with young men practicing their parkour moves, and some of them were actually pretty good.  When they walked by, Gabriel said hello and waved while other kids run away from the teens.  I don't know how he does it, but people just gravitate to him.  I feel blessed to be his dad and spend time with him everyday.  

Friend Projects

Little Man and I went to Times Square this morning to do a Flat Stanley project for a friend. We saw Elmo, Cookie Monster, and SpongeBob SquarePants hustling for some tips.

For some reason my kid loves this place more than any other park, museum, or tourist trap. He says hello to just about everyone we walk past and joyfully squeals at the lights. I am liking the place more and more. It is free to just sit and people watch, and it is only a few minutes away on the 1 train.

Sometimes it is fun being a tourist!

The Finished Product

Ta-daaa!

We are short one egg because Mr. Turd Ferguson thought that they ought to be opened before dyed.  I blame myself for leaving the carton in front of him while prepping the dyes.

Tomorrow should make for a fun morning of hunting eggs and mini peanut-butter cups.

Easter Prep

Coloring eggs and eating cookies is how we spend our Saturday night.

Rainy Day Play

Rain sucks, but he still has fun.

I am jealous.

Alternate Side Parking

While moving the car this morning to avoid getting a ticket, I realized that my son is one part greeter and one part siren. 

He cheerfully waved at every car that drove by and had a nice conversation with a traffic cop. 

When the street was quiet, he practiced his version of a familiar city sound-- the car alarm.

Music in His Soul

He likes to sing, and he loves his guitar.

I like it too.

I love my son.

This morning while listening to Sesame Street music, Little Man asked me if I would be his friend.

I said yes.

Helicopters and Boats

We spent some time at the South Seaport enjoying the afternoon.

Ferry Ride

Why do people ride the Staten Island Ferry?

Because it's free.

My Private Chef

I was fortunate enough to have some homemade bread soup prepared bedside this morning.

Life is good.

The Perfect Quote

I have been looking for a quote.

A perfect sequence of words, something that captures my current state of being.

Many years ago, I came across a cup of knowledge.  I was fascinated by this acquisition and set out in search of more.  I found streams and rivers of learning that flowed from the mountains and ponds surrounding me.  I was content with this and rested.

After some time, I wanted more and set off again.  I found larger rivers and great lakes filled with philosophy, history, science, and mathematics(which I quickly ignored).  I thought that I had mastered these rivers and lakes with my sense of exploration as paddle and an inflated ego for my raft.

Leaving behind the comfortable confines of my home, I traveled again thinking of new conquests and discoveries to add to my dominion, and I found the ocean-- the seemingly boundless world of the universe.  I am lost among that which I do not know.  As I learn something new, I am confronted with the greatness the unknown.  Certainly the newly learned lesson is a valuable asset, but it also unveils new realms of my own ignorance.  This great divides excites me; there is always a chance to learn and grow.  The great ocean of knowledge also discourages me; no matter how much I come to understand, it is nothing compared to all that is left to learn.

I stopped looking for a quote.

A song by James Taylor or a poem by Rumi may capture the realization of my nothingness, but its meaning is so finite that it cannot go further with me.  Maybe a line from Shakespeare or an excerpt from Kierkegaard can relate all that I experienced in the past, but it will not cover what I have yet to discover about myself and the world I live in.   I was confronted by the irony of my quest: using another's words to describe my path negates my own journey.  Perhaps instead of looking for someone else to describe my journey, I ought to be grateful for this realization of my insignificance and keep a happy heart while I continue this wonderful expedition.

My conclusion is that there isn't a perfect quote to capture life, but that it the beauty of existence.  If we found perfection, we would stop our progression, and I don't want to stop this adventure.

Baseball and Butler

In a world where the Ivy-League meets the Big-League, my son conquers all!  I don't have much advice to give him when it comes to sports, but he will be ready to give these Columbia chumps a run for their money when he walks through the doors of Butler library as a student in 15 years.

Looking Again

We went to the Central Park Zoo last March during my Spring Break at school, and I took this picture. For some reason I like it. I might like it because the Snow Leopard is so close to the window yet lost somewhere in private thoughts. I might like it because my son is in it, and I think that he is the greatest kid to ever walk the planet. I might like this photo because as I was taking it, an older gentleman kept blocking my shot because he wanted to get a picture of his own (he is the red blur on the right). This man was also getting agitated by other children who wanted to see the leopard up close and disturb his photo session, and that is when a small gem of universal truth hit me-- don't get caught up in finding perfection, just enjoy the moment.

So I took the photo, and we continued our exploration of the zoo. Looking at this photo again, I understand the lesson I learned. My son isn't looking at this animal searching for some fault that he can criticize; he is enjoying the moment of seeing a beautiful creature in an intimate setting. I still see that red sleeve in the photo and want to get upset with the grumpy man, but I simply shift my focus, and the blemishes disappear.  If I spend too much time looking at what I don't like, I will never enjoy the parts that bring me happiness.

I won't always remember this lesson in my daily journey of life, but I try to look at everything twice in hopes of seeing more beauty, wonder, amazement, love, friendship, potential, and divine worth.  While I may want to get angry or upset because someone or something hinders my progression, I reevaluate the situation, change my focus, and enjoy the moment.

Slow down and enjoy the ride-- there is a lot to love in this world.

The Good Life

Frosted Flakes, Sesame Street music, and a happy child are what I need for a great breakfast.

In the Dust of a Little Chair

Perhaps one of my favorite poets is Eugene Field.  As a 19th century American writer, he found his niche after traveling many roads in writing children's poems.  One of his most famous works is "Wynken, Blynken, and Nod" which is one of our nightly readings.  There are two reasons that I can think of as to why his work resonates with me: 1- these were the poems that were read to me as a child; 2- his talent is in taking a larger narrative and writing it in a way that a child can understand.

He died at the age of 45 leaving behind a strong legacy of published work.  My favorite poem is "Little Boy Blue" (also known as "Dog and Soldier" to my son) which captures the feelings of loss he experienced upon the death of one of his children.  While this is one experience that I pray never to encounter, his words allow me the insight to cherish everyday I have with my child.

LITTLE BOY BLUE
by: Eugene Field (1850-1895)

HE little toy dog is covered with dust,

But sturdy and staunch he stands;

And the little toy soldier is red with rust,

And his musket moulds in his hands.

Time was when the little toy dog was new,

And the soldier was passing fair;

And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue

Kissed them and put them there.

 

"Now, don't you go till I come," he said,

"And don't you make any noise!"

So, toddling off to his trundle-bed,

He dreamt of the pretty toys;

And, as he was dreaming, an angel song

Awakened our Little Boy Blue--

Oh! the years are many, the years are long,

But the little toy friends are true!

 

Ay, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand,

Each in the same old place,

Awaiting the touch of a little hand,

The smile of a little face;

And they wonder, as waiting the long years through

In the dust of that little chair,

What has become of our Little Boy Blue,

Since he kissed them and put them there.

Pretty, right?  The delicate nature of this prose tells of the great love we all have for those close to us.  As with everything in life, the more I read this poem, the more I understand it on different levels.  Upon closer reading, I find that the real sadness of this poem is not found in the loss of a child but in the loss of a dream.

How many of us have had a special wish or goal that was dear to our hearts only to have it whisked away by some other force?  Have we loved an idea or possibility so much that when it was gone we stayed in place waiting for it to return?  I know that I have.  The "ruts" of my life have come from when I think that something I lost is going to come back to me.  Whether this lost item is love, a job, an apology, schooling, a friend or even just a reward for hard work, the real sadness isn't in the loss of the object, but in the waiting for its return.

Let me be clear about something-- I am not advocating for a person to "get over" the loss of a child or loved one, for that is a tragedy that I cannot fathom.  I assert that we must not allow the dust of life to settle on us while waiting for the arrival of something that is gone.  I know that I have lost many years of my life thinking that someone else would discover my talents; I have lost many hours/days/weeks/months in anger thinking that someone else would apologize for what they said or did to me.  I have lost time sitting in that proverbial chair dreaming of the good-old-days, and I can never get that time back.

Shake off the dust and climb down from the chair!  We cannot go back, but we can determine our future.  You see, the real sadness found in "Little Boy Blue" isn't in the description of sorrow felt by the dog and soldier but in their abandonment of their own lives.

I submit that it is never too late, we are never too old, and the time is never better than right now to live.

In Defense of Rebecca Black

"Friday" you have heard it and laughed at it many times by now.  For those of you who do not know what I am talking about, go to this link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CD2LRROpph0 and savor the creation of something you won't forget.

The first time I watched "Friday" (notice this implies that I have watched it many times, and I am listening to it as I type) I was revolted and found humor in the many comments, blogs, videos and posts making fun of this girl.  But when I thought about it for a little bit, I started to feel sorry for this girl.  Here she is a young aspiring artist with perhaps a little talent who became the laughing stock of the United States when all she was doing was living out a dream.  You may want to call her stupid for the simple lyrics and annoying repetition, but I submit that she is not the one with the problem, it is the rest of us that are making fun of her.

How long has the American public complained about the degradation of media and the lack of integrity among pop icons?  The entire cast of The Jersey Shore, Paris Hilton, Charlie Sheen have become the standard of American culture, and they are all disgusting.  Americans idolize drunkenness, stag films and spousal abuse over the aspirations of a teen.  So why does everyone want to hate a young girl who wrote a song and made a video of it?  First off, why were you watching a video of a thirteen year old in the first place?  Pervert.  She might be an idiot(who isn't?), but we are the ones watching her, so what does that make us?  Second, were you expecting Whitman or Shakespeare from her?  She used the vocabulary she knows.  She doesn't claim to be the next Bob Dylan.  She didn't sing about getting pregnant, doing drugs, or loving a vampire so much that she can't leave her bedroom.  Her song is about something that most Americans talk about incessantly Monday through Thursday-- let's make fun of people who post the days of the week on facebook as if we aren't smart enough to know for ourselves.  She is in Junior High, and she has become a lot more famous than me for living out her dream.  Give her a break.  Third, she owns her work.  She isn't some socially awkward deviant behind a computer typing away in attempts to demoralize humanity.  Look at the comment section of her video and notice that very few people are using their real names to attack her.  She isn't hiding.  She wrote a song about how much she enjoys the weekend.  It is better than complaining about Monday every Sunday night and Monday morning.

I will tell you something that is stupid.  Any American citizen that believes in the Two-Party System of Government.  Have you ever voted for someone that you didn't like, but you didn't want the other party to win?  Have you turned your back on someone(a third party candidate) that you believed in (Nader, Dean) to vote for someone that could win (Kerry, Gore)?  I am an idiot because I do this every 2-4 years (I am too lazy to vote every year).  Could you imagine what kind of change would happen if we directed our rage and frustration at our Congressmen/women instead of a young girl?

I am not a member of the Tea Party (if they even have a real party), but I am fed up with people taking the easy way out and making fun of other people instead of working to build them up.  Rebecca Black had a dream, she met her goals, and we ought to be proud of her.  You don't have to like her, but you should respect her.  If you want to make fun of someone, call your Senator/Governor/Mayor because I am pretty confident that at least one of them has done something a lot worse than make a music video about Friday.

This is Who I Am

I have been thinking about identity a lot the last few month for a number of reasons.  Since quitting UPS, I haven't found another job that is suitable to my school schedule, and I am only taking two classes this semester, so that I would have time to interview and accept a position.  So for the last three months I have been an unemployed, part-time student, and this is not the identity that I want for myself.  This has led me to examine the many facets of my life in order to make sense of this rut that I find myself in.

Starting with the obvious identities, I am a white male.  I can't do much about either of these traits because they are my genes.  My DNA has determined that this is who I am, but it doesn't determine how I identify myself.  I used the term male instead of man simply because I don't like the label of "man."  Do I really want to be a man?  Depending on what lens is used, manhood can be great(bringing home the proverbial bacon, defender of one's family, leader of the people), but it also has the potential of great harm(wars, rapes, genocides, you get the picture on this one).  With the dichotomous nature of this term, I refuse to identify as such.

I am a Mormon.  As a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I have found a theology that helps me have a better relationship with the Divine.  I relate to a loving God who knows and understands me in a personal way.  I was a missionary in the Philippines in my youth, and that remains one of the greatest experiences in my life.  There isn't a day since coming home from those Pacific Islands that I don't think about the amazing people I met and the lessons of love and humility I learned from them.  But "Mormon" is not my identity.  My politics are not those of my church.  My philosophy is not fully contained within the teaching of the church, and so the term "Mormon" is extremely limiting to my expression.  While it is certainly a part of who I am, it does not encompass the whole, so you will never see me on a commercial where the catch phrase "and I'm a Mormon" sums up my entire life.  My faith guides me to the greater identity but does not define it.

I am an Academic-- at least an undergraduate.  I love going to school.  I cannot express the joy I feel when sitting in class and something "clicks."  I am able to make connections between past experiences and scientific theories in behavior or evaluate the nature of language and its ability to create communities through simple words.  College is my "Axis Mundi" (a great subject for another blog post) where I have fixed my orientation to understand the world around me.  From this center I can separate the spiritual from the secular and grasp the pearls of knowledge that are in every aspect of learning.  I study with some of the brightest scholars in the world.  They inspire me.  Our professors demand perfection, and I always try to deliver the best papers and create the insightful conversations to meet their expectations.  The problem with this identity is that it is not guaranteed.  I don't have a scholarship; I pay as I go, and at a private college, it is really tough to manage.  I would love to attend graduate school, but that seems like a distant dream right now especially with the inability to have perfect grades.  I suppose I ought to be happy being an average student at an extraordinary school, but it really messes with my confidence.

I am a worker-- wait, I am unemployed.  Next!

I am a husband, but this is way too complicated, so I am skipping this entirely.

I am a dad.  This one feels good.  Actually, this one feels perfect.  I am a dad.  This will never change.  Catching a slimy, blue baby changed my life forever in one second.  I see the world through different eyes, and I imagine the greatest potential in everyone because I am a dad.  I feel that it is my duty to defend the defenseless, feed the hungry, and comfort the hurt from the empathy gained in this role.  These are things that feel natural, and I enjoy doing them.  This doesn't mean that I see myself a father to every person I meet, but it does mean that if  I can help you, then I will help you.  I am limited, so my assistance will not be perfect, but I will be there for you.  If I have it, then you can have it; don't hesitate in asking.

It is funny how small moments can change us in ways that we never fully comprehend, but I am proud to say that this is who I am-- a dad.

Happy Birthday!

Little Man, three years ago you cuddled with me and changed my life forever. Thank you for letting me be your dad. I know that sometimes it can be tough when I don't let you play all night or eat ice cream for breakfast, but I want you to know that you are the greatest son in the world!

Let's play trains, read poems, chase birds, and explore the world, for today is your day, and I love seeing life through your perfect eyes.

Love,
Dad

ps- "Balow, my boy!"

God of the Gaps

Within the philosophies of religion, there is a concept known as the God of the gaps.  This is in reference to the cultural use of a god, goddess, or multiple gods to describe natural phenomena beyond the scope of human understanding.  An example of this concept is found in ancient, and not so ancient, beliefs that were attributed to God, but later explained by science.  The sun does not revolve around the Earth; God does not make the sun rise every morning.  The Earth is set in its rotation around the sun while spinning on its own axis.  Lightning and thunder are not forms of the wrath of God, but they are the result of positive and negative ions creating a strong charge in the atmosphere, and the sound waves resulting from the bolt.  I might have botched that explanation of lightning, but I think you understand the idea-- God was used as an explanation to that which could not be explained.  Think about Thor (my favorite), Zeus, and Ra as actual examples of these gods.

Now that our science has slightly advanced beyond the primitive notions of the past, valid arguments are formed against the existence of God by claiming the natural world, once understood, proves that God does not exist.  If God made the sun rise and we learn that the sun does not move, there must not be a god.  If lightning isn't the manifestation of God's anger but simply an electric reaction, there must not be a god.  I cannot argue with this logic, but there is another way to look at this concept.

John Polkinghorne, a physicist and theologian, made an interesting comment on the NPR broadcast "Being" with Krista Tippett.  He skilfully explained that if God works through nature, and that by understanding the scientific world we learn more truth, then we are learning more about the nature of God.  God might not hurl the lightning bolt, but He created a universe where atoms were allowed to act according to their nature.  (I will save the commentary about the nature of God for another day because that gets complicated.)

I like Polkinghorne's view.  Perhaps it just appeals to the optimist within, but I find comfort in learning about the nature of God by observing the world around me.  After all, it is a choice to believe or not believe, and I choose to believe in God.

The Secret of Life

I woke up this morning with a great song in my head; "The Secret of Life" by James Taylor is a happy reminder to enjoy every day we have.  He sings: "The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time."  I don't think that it can get any easier than that.

We can't stop time, so we might as well enjoy it.  Despite the many things in life that I want to change, today I am grateful for a warm home that keeps my family safe, a son that never stops smiling, and an able mind to appreciate that great gifts my Creator has given me.

Today is a beautiful day!

Grand Central Station

For the train lover in all of us...

Pinewood Bust

We went to the stake center this morning to watch the pinewood derby and quickly left.

We did enjoy the fountain at Lincoln Center though.

A Happy Thought

What are your favorite memories from childhood?  One of mine is traveling with the family.  It didn't seem to matter where we were going, but it was fun to pile in the car and just drive.  I remember after a couple of hours on the road, I would start to get sleepy, and I would eventually find that perfect position where I could fall asleep to the gentle humming of the engine and roadway.

Now I am a dad and do most of the driving on our little excursions.  Approaching the George Washington bridge a few weeks ago after spending the day Upstate, I realized that my little brood had found that "sweet spot" to sleep comfortably in the car.  Of course, I would have liked to be the one sleeping, but I couldn't help but smile when I thought of the memories that I am passing down, and that my small family trusted me enough to get them home safely.

This makes me happy.

I know I am not smiling... remember I said the GW bridge... no one smiles while fighting traffic to get on there.

A Pet Peeve

I have a problem.  For the last several months, my time has been filled with school and job applications.  Because I am a student, the job offers have been non-existent, and this requires me to fill out more applications.  At the end of each application, there is a survey to determine the ethnicity and gender of the applicant that is claimed to not be used in the hiring decision, but it is used to track who applies for jobs and other random nothingness.  My problem is the choices they offer me in the gender category: Male or Female.  These are not genders; they are sexes.

This may be a moot point for some people who think that the terms sex and gender are synonymous, but I claim that they are not, and the distinction ought to be made in order to not sound like a common fool.  A person's identity forms from a variety of sources.  Perhaps the earliest and most distinct identification occurs at birth when sexual organs are defined.  Males are born with a penis, and females are born with a vagina.  Since this is not an academic post, I will not include the 4% of the population born with ambiguous genitalia to keep things simple.  These sex organs set the stage for later identities formed throughout our lives.  Gender, religion, sexual orientation, schools, culture, professions and posterity all determine future forms of identity, and I will talk about some of these another day, but for now I will focus on gender.

Gender is fluid.  This means that a person's gender does change over time.  While many religions claim that gender is the same all our lives, they are misinformed and use the term incorrectly.  To prove this, I will give you an example.  When an infant is born with a penis, they are assigned the gender of a boy not a man.  When does this transition from boy to man occur?  This varies with the cultural identity and often rests on the shoulders of the person undergoing the transformation.  I don't know when I became a man, it certainly wasn't when I hit puberty.  To this day, many comment that I am just a big child.  This does not change my sex, nor does it mean I am prepubescent.  Often when males tease one another about being emotional they tell each other to "stop being a woman."  This doesn't imply that their penis has transformed into a vagina, but that they are acting in the manner of another gender (which is another rant for another day).  This shows that gender changes over time, and in some cases rapidly changes, to represent the person's identity.

Why do people confuse sex and gender?  The best solution that I can come up with is that a majority of the population is uncomfortable with the word sex, even as a clinical term.  Using gender in lieu of sex appeals to the easily offended because it avoids the other connotations of the word.  Get over it!  Rather than limit the expression of individual identity, embrace the beauty of diversity and learn some new vocabulary.

Please be informed.  Sex= Male/Female; Gender= Man/Woman/Boy/Girl.  This is the simple version, so please learn it; you won't be held responsible for the larger social constructs that forms each form of identity.  That will come another day.

I don't want to make fun of you one day for not knowing the difference, but I will. 

GS & CC

A year ago I the initials GS and CC didn't mean a thing to me, but now my life revolves around them.  In addition to numerous graduate schools, Columbia University has three undergraduate colleges: Columbia College (CC), School of Engineering and Applied Science (SEAS), and School of General Studies (GS).  While all three colleges share classes and professors for the curriculum, each college has its own admissions criteria, student advising, and financial aid departments.  One would think that attending the #4 ranked college in the US would be enough to satisfy anyone's ego, but it isn't.  There can be a sharp divide among students of GS and CC regarding a number of issues, especially when it comes to deciding what school is better.

As a GS student, I have made many friends from all of the different colleges of Columbia, and I rarely feel this tension among my classmates.  However, as the anonymity of the internet has increased the brazenness of the otherwise impotent souls, there are strings of conversations online and in comment sections of Bwog that show the depth of insecurity among my peers.  I have met a few CC students who seemed to possess the elitist attitudes despised by my fellow GS'ers, but mostly I have been disgusted by the words from other GS students about the CC scholars.

Before I air my grievances, I will say this: I have the highest respect for anyone who had the mental discipline at such a young age to get into this school.  CC students worked hard and sacrificed a lot to get here, and they deserve that recognition.  When I was in high school, I could have never qualified for this opportunity, so I am not going to ridicule those who make it because of my laziness as a teen.  I am a non-traditional student, and in that role I have made peace with what my college career will look like.  Too many GS'ers are looking to relive some past glory at the expense of hazing another group.  I don't like the assumption that all CC students are rich.  I am sure that a few have wealthy families, but that isn't their fault.  I certainly don't like people judging me for being white or tall, so I will not assume those fortunate to be born into well off families are all jerks.  After living in the Philippines for two years, I know what poverty is, and my fellow classmates ought to be grateful for what they have instead of dreaming/lusting about what others might have in the bank.

Now to defend my school from the claims of certain Columbia College people.  GS is not a "backdoor" into Columbia.  Since GS and CC have different admissions, many CC students feel cheated that they are sharing classes with people who just received their GED.  This is an understandable concern.  Why work so hard in high school to sit next to a guy in college who dropped out his junior year?  Well, this is what makes Columbia so awesome!  The school sees potential in a very large portion of the population to benefit from its liberal arts studies.  While we have all taken different roads to get here, we are now on the same path, and all of us are taking the same tests, reading the same books, and struggling through the same lectures.  Sure I was a slacker 15 years ago, but I will work my butt off now, so that every CC and GS student will have the best classmate possible from me.  I didn't chose Columbia because I wanted an easy path to a cool diploma.  I attend, so that I may learn from the best Academics in the world.  Columbia has offered me a second chance, and I am taking it.

There are advantages to both schools; CC has a great financial aid program, and GS is more flexible in working with student schedules and allows for part-time enrollment.  Ultimately, I love GS.  It works for me.  While I might envy the younger crowd for their remarkable achievements, I am glad that my education is enhanced by my life experience.  Also, we have the coolest dean ever.  It's true.  Peter Awn rocks!

I am just happy to be at Columbia.  I have the chance to learn from top scholars and collaborate with the brightest minds in the country.  If people here can't appreciate that, I feel bad for them.

"Mommy's School!"

Little Man is proud of his mom, and he should be; she is one of the top teachers at one of the top charter schools in the United States.  He shouts "Mommy's School!" whenever he sees their advertisements.  Today, he posed for a picture.

He is proud of his mom.

An Open Letter

Dear Mr. Drug Dealer,

Thank you for taking the time to read this small note.  I just wanted to let you know that I saw what you did last night, and I told on you.  I want you to know that this is not personal.  In fact, I am not even mad at you for coming into my neighborhood in order to make a living.  You seemed nice enough, and the people creating the demand for your services are the ones that really need our focus.

I just want you to understand one small thing: never get near my son.  You see, If I had been walking alone last night, I wouldn't have said anything to the friendly police officer that was happy to get your information from me, but I had company.  In an effort to tire an energetic three year old, my child and I went for an evening walk and enjoyed the ending of a beautiful day.  I cannot describe to you how important my son is to me, so when I saw you slip that small plastic bag into the hands of the brunette in the tan jacket right before she gave you a roll of cash, I wanted to hurt you.  I didn't, but you should know that it isn't wise to push me any further.  Without realizing your error of exposing my son to unfathomable risks, you strolled back to your burgundy SUV and drove away.  You may have forgotten these trivial moments, but I never will.

I consider myself person with liberal philosophies, so I don't criticize your career choice or what you may do in your free-time.  In fact, I wish that the government would recognize the futility of their "war on drugs" and spend a bit more money on education and rehabilitation for people who suffer with addiction.  The drug laws in this country clearly have a racial bias, and our penal system reflects the complete disparity occurring among the people that are in the most need of help.  I have no problem with rational adults choosing to spend their money with you.  You can sell from your apartment all you want.  My problem is that you exposed my child to a world that he is not ready to comprehend.  The dangers of your profession hurt the innocent more than the guilty, and I do not welcome you back into this neighborhood.  I am not happy with your customer either, I will talk with her when our paths cross, for she is the one who invited you here.  She isn't a good friend; you could do better.

Feel free to come by on your day off if you would like to see the campus or even grab a Jumbo Slice, but you do not want to sell your products on these streets anymore.

Thank you,
A Protective 6'2" 300lb Dad Who Will Not Give You a Second Chance

"We found the ice cream truck!"

So said my jubilant child after exiting the subway.

Micro-Blogging

I need to write on this little blog more often. 

One of my major obstacles has been a misguided ideal of what a blog post should look like.  I have felt for some time that I shouldn’t post my own writing unless it has been peer-reviewed and graded by the professor.  This has limited what I have posted, and it has limited the way I have communicated my thoughts, feelings, and activities with friends.  My resolve now is to post smaller blogs that may be a little rough around the edges, but these messages will have more relevance to my life.  After all, I am sure that my friends and family would rather read about some nugget of wisdom gleaned from my son or class than my most recent eight page paper on gender equality and the subtle nuances of difference found within the Qur’an. (btw- it was a great paper!)

So Helpful

Many thanks to my son for putting his toy car in my bag this morning.  He knows what I like.

Heroes to the Rescue!

I’m Sorry

I feel a need to apologize because I have let many people down. Now before you feel like this is a generic plea for attention, let me assure you that I am not writing this post to gain pity. As you will see by the end of this blog, I am optimistic about my life and future. I am writing this to better understand what I have experienced. Writing is cathartic, and I am ready to explore my thoughts, feelings and actions in hopes of letting go and moving on. For many months I have been withdrawn from family, friends and other activities. Despite the many excuses that I have used to justify my solitude, it has been intentional.

The person that I owe the biggest apology to is my wife. She has been more than generous these past four years in giving me the opportunities to be where I am at today. She has inspired me to move beyond the average aspirations of Archie and reach for the highest goals. For too long she has carried the burden of being financially responsible for our small family. While I have had employment and student loans to supplement our income, I have not put in my share, and she has needed to make up the difference. Many times I would sit back and just figure that things would work out on their own, and it would be my wife who figured out how to make the ends meet, how to move us across the country and how to provide us with food clothing and shelter.

Now a mere sentence isn't going to make her life any easier. It is going to take a lot of work and energy to balance both school and work, but it is something that I need to do, not just for my wife but also my son. I would like to think that I am a great father, and in many ways I am. I love spending time with him—reading, wrestling, watching fire trucks or just cuddling. However, he needs more than a friend; he needs a dad that is there both physically and fiscally. He may see me less often, but he needs to be provided for by both parents and not just one.

Columbia has humbled me. I miss the days of being the smart one in the class and not having to study for anything. It seems now that I spend an obscene amount of time studying to be the person who is completely lost in the class. I need to make my time count here. I need to appreciate where I am at. While grades are important, I came here for an education. I will sound elitist for saying this, but I would rather be a B student from Columbia than an A student from somewhere else.

The greatest gift of being at this school is my peer group. I have never met so many amazing, talented, friendly and social people at one time as I have in the last few months. I need to spend more time with them. I can no longer hide from their invitations for dinner, parties and even study sessions. These people are the reason why this school is amazing. The professors may be smart, but the students and my class-mates rock!

I have been reclusive at church also. There was a time when I spent several hours a week working on projects and other church activities, but now I slip out the door when no one is looking. There is a wealth of friendship that is just waiting to be found within those doors, and I haven't opened them yet.

Lastly, to my family and friends, I am sorry for not answering my phone. I have felt like keeping my head under the ground until I had some good news to share, and in doing this, I have lost touch with so many people. Thank you for your repeated calls of care and concern. It is great to know that even with all of your responsibilities and burdens, many of you take the time to call me just to say hello and make sure that I am alright. I still may not answer the phone all the time, but I promise that I will work on it.

Now that I have gotten through these confessions, I am dropping two classes this Spring term and getting busy looking for a real job that will allow for professional development, personal satisfaction and a chance to finish my education. If you know of something, let me know. I am excited for a change and a chance to grow into a better, friend, brother, uncle, husband and father. As a great friend told me recently, I never take the easy way, and I am looking forward to this next challenge.

Tourist Time!!!

It has been some time since I have visited Rockefeller Center and Times Square, so tonight Little Man and I went there and had some good old fashion fun.

We...

went to the M&M Store,

saw the lights of Times Square,

and shared a jumbo slice of pizza!

Now we are home in our pajamas making homemade french-fries. Life is great!

Another Present

 
The best part about a vacation, is more vacation. With the awesome storm we just had, there are plenty of reasons to stay inside and enjoy some rest in bed.

I would like to say that I got the truck free from the surrounding snow, but I failed. I will try again tomorrow. The rest of the day involves cooking, baking, resting and watching movies. I love holi/snowdays.

“Easy there pilgrim”: Exploring Gender Assignment within a Binary System

    For a number of reasons, the biggest of which is time, I have not posted any of my papers for the semester on this blog. This is a research paper that I did for my University Writing course.


 
Citizens of the United States of America take great pride in the numerous technological advancements and various cultural influences that allow them to convey their individuality in a myriad of ways. From New York City to Los Angeles, freedom and eccentricity reign. Liberty is seen as the sacred foundation of this country, yet within this nation, traditional views about gender limit the free expression of those not defined within the current binary system, and in restraining their uniqueness they are inadequately able to express their autonomy.



    Gender has typically been viewed in terms of man and woman; this corresponds with our concept of sex—male and female, yet according to Kristin Zeiler and Anette Wickstrom of Linkoping University, 1.7 to 4% of children born are intersex, meaning to be born with ambiguous genitalia, which is more common than children born with Down's syndrome (Zeiler and Wickstrom 359). In their article "Why do 'we' perform surgery on new born intersexed children?" they point out that parents of these kids are often frustrated when entrusted medical professionals do not know what sex the infant is. If the sex is hard to determine, then the gender will also create more difficulty. This concept of intersex is hard to understand while still holding the traditional view of a binary nature of sex and gender (Zeiler and Wickstrom 364). Parents look to doctors to give them answers which do not always fall in their realm of expertise. If the child is born with a slow heart rate or shallow breathing, a doctor could prescribe a treatment, but with the case of intersex children, there is no clear answer because there isn't a clear understanding of the situation.


    To understand the concept of gender assignment, we must first realize that there is much that we do not know. Laura Erickson-Schroth, a resident at NYU Langone Medical Center and author of many books about trans-gender issues claims that a "common assumption is that gender and sex are the same thing" (Erickson-Schroth 60). While sex is determined by the chromosomes in our DNA, gender does not have clear markers that allow for a positive identification. Many suppose that the best way to determine gender is to assign it to the corresponding sex—the gender of "man" for males and "woman" for females. In severing this traditional link between sex and gender, pathways of expression that have been closed may now open. Erickson-Schroth goes on to describe why this linkage of sex and gender persists today: "Sexuality is more complicated than we could ever imagine, and yet we use rather simple language to describe it" (Erickson-Schroth 67). In other words, we use simple terms like man and woman, male and female, gay and straight to describe the entire population while completely denying the varying levels of each group and thereby suppressing their expression. Using binary terms like man and woman to describe one's gender would be like using only the terms happy and sad to describe our moods. When a person asked you how you felt, your only options would be wither happy or sad, but what if you felt pensive or grateful? How would you express yourself with such limited terms? By restricting our vocabulary to only two words like happy and sad, we hinder our ability to express how we feel—removing the beauty of speech. This inadequacy of our speech has created the deficit of understanding gender. Gender, like our own emotions, needs more than two options in order to be expressed.


    Perhaps one reason why we maintain this binary view on gender stems from one of the most popular American icons, John Wayne. Starring in over two hundred movies as a cowboy, war hero, and athlete, John Wayne's deep voice and natural height of 6'4" captured the attention of the American public, and he still remains one of the most popular movie stars of all time over thirty years after his death. Seen as the "man's man," Wayne embodied the strength, power and masculinity that an "ideal man" ought to become. Bob McGuire, a therapist and life coach wrote about the image of John Wayne and the effort put into keeping him masculine. "John Wayne actually had shorter doors to walk through on the sets, and they made the doors the women walked through higher to give the illusion that this great man, so big and so strong, was actually bigger and stronger than he was and the women were actually smaller and weaker than they were" (McGuire 42). The "manliness" of John Wayne was in part a fabrication of set designs set up to make the hero appear stronger than those that needed rescuing. Although John Wayne was a large man without any assistance, he was still enhanced to meet some unrealistic ideal of a real man. This concept of men being strong and tough trickles down to our perception of what boys should be also—little boys should play with trucks and guns while little girls play with dolls and dresses. While John Wayne may not be the origin of gender identification for men, his image and legacy impact children today.



    Alice Dreger, a professor of bioethics at the Feinberg School of Medicine, wrote an article entitled "Gender Identity Disorders in Childhood: Inconclusive Advice to Parents" in which she shares an example of a little boy, William, that likes to play with dolls and chooses to identify himself as a girl. William's parents placed him in therapy to cure him of his Gender Identity Disorder. The therapists prescribed a simple beginning treatment: "William will be given gender-neutral toys to replace his Barbie and My Little Pony and will, ideally, be led to develop friendships with other boys—not boys of the rough-and-tumble, army-toy-obsessed type, since William will never relate well to those boys, but boys of a calmer gentler variety" (Dreger 26). This handling already exposes the flaw of binary thinking regarding gender. The therapists feel the need to make William a "boy" despite his own desire to be a girl, yet they acknowledge that William will never be a boy that plays rough but will need to be assigned with softer boys to befriend. They recognize that even within the gender of boy, there are great differences, yet they are all given the same label. If there isn't a two-sizes-fit-all approach to gender, why do doctors, parents and cultural trends demand that everyone assimilate into one of the two accepted genders?



    William's behaviors would then be seen as natural in a different cultural environment such as Samoa where biological male children who express feminine traits from an early age are not put into therapy to remedy the behavior; they fall into a third category of gender called fa'afafine. Fa'afafine are born biological males. As these young boys grow and develop, they begin to demonstrate feminine characteristics, so their parents raise them as girls. Their gender is not seen as fixed, so they are assigned another gender that is a better fit for them. As adults, they dress as women, perform tasks traditionally reserved for women, date and have sexual intercourse with men who consider themselves straight, all with their original sexual organs. In this culture, fa'afafine are not seen as radical outcasts because "the culture has a system that accommodates their difference" (Dreger 28). Their language allows them to experience a more diverse way of life that is lacking here in the US. This open expression of a third gender allows those that do not fall into the man/women categories to claim their identity without repercussions.



     The acceptance of the fa'afafine stands in great contrast to the actions taken in Western societies. One European family was told by the doctor that their child who had XX chromosomes, female genes, would "make a very nice boy because of the child's genitals" (Zeiler and Wickstrom 366). Another family assigned their intersex child the male sex. When asked by the doctor whether they had chosen a name, the family informed the doctor that the child's name would be Johan, the doctor replied: "That is good. He must have a sterling boy's name" (Zeiler and Wickstrom 367). The doctor's implication that a boy must have a strong masculine name highlights the attempt to reinforce manly attributes further explained by McGuire, "Men are generally bigger and stronger and thus thought to be tougher, and women, generally smaller are thought to be weaker and sweeter... a deep, gruff male voice I associate with strength and roughness, and a soft female voice often sounds nurturing and innocent" (Mcguire 42). Just as John Wayne's masculinity was in part a fabrication of Hollywood set designs, families, doctors, teachers and friends continue to strengthen the elementary perception of gender. Western cultures have set up ideas and rules to maintain the two-gender system. These ideas are perpetuated by previous unfounded stereotypes.



     Many advocates, poets and social psychologists reject cultural norms and walk according to their own path, yet their language is still confined to the concept of just two genders. Harold Norse, a popular American writer who recently died in 2009 wrote a poem called "I'm Not a Man" in which he throws the traditional views of manhood aside in order to claim his own identity. He writes:

I'm not a man. I won't play the role assigned to me- the role created
by Madison Avenue, Playboy, Hollywood and Oliver Cromwell,
Television does not dictate my behavior.

Norse clearly understood that there is more to being a man than what we are taught in our culture, and argues against the traditional allocation of gender roles. He asserts that these identities are "created" (Norse) and disseminated by popular media. Men, like women, escape a simple definition. Each gender is complex, and ought not to be categorized simply by sex, yet the feelings that many men experience, like tenderness and vulnerability, must be hidden in order to maintain the illusion of masculinity they are assigned.



     However, many feel that gender ought to be protected and valued within the two-gender system. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, also known as "the Mormons," issued a statement in 1995 called "The Family: A Proclamation to the World" where they claim: "All human beings—male and female—are created in the image of God. Each is a beloved spirit son or daughter of heavenly parents, and, as such, each has a divine nature and destiny. Gender is an essential characteristic of individual premortal, mortal, and eternal identity and purpose" (Hinkley 1). Gender, according to the LDS church, is specifically linked to a person's sex, and ought to be a measure on which life assignments and duties should be decided. The LDS Church's simple assessment of sex and gender relates to Erickson-Schroth's previous assertion that we use "simple language" (67) in understanding the nature of human sexuality. By maintaining a binary system, religions are able to synchronize their doctrine and avoid moral ambiguities; Male and Female, Right and Wrong, Heaven and Hell, Salvation and Damnation all reinforce a dichotomous language. While religious groups are certainly entitled to their opinions, these opinions do not allow a significant number of people that do not fall into the male/female roles to have a voice. According to Zeiler and Wickstrom, a limited vocabulary like this leads one to associate anything outside of the male and female genders with "silence and shame" (373). The lack of religious language to describe other genders leads those who do not accept a traditional gender role to associate their feelings with something unnatural, while the indifferent attitudes of the majority push the minority further away in embracing their own doctrine of correctness.



     There is also some merit in maintaining traditional views on gender through sex assignment surgery. Zeiler and Wickstrom point out that for intersex children "Surgery is part of the identity work… if parents do not have their child undergo surgery, they contribute to the child's gender identity confusion" (369). Children are exposed to the binary gender system in every encounter with friends, classmates and family members. In not assigning them a gender, they will be even more confused about their identity than if they were assigned a wrong gender. A child who is not given an identity to explore will face the dangerous world of their peer group without peers. An early gender identity, even a wrong one, gives a child the right "look" in order to fit in. By allowing a child to determine their own sex and gender in their own time, parents set their children up for disaster. Gender identity is a critical step in developing a social identity. Making friends, going to the bathroom and even seating assignments at times require some form of gender assignment. Jr. High School is a difficult time without the added complication of not having a sex or gender identity. Dreger also agrees with this philosophy noting that "children should not have to get caught up in adult politics of sex, gender, and sexual orientation" (Dreger 27). Children are not pawns to be used as fodder in an ever-increasing battle regarding gender issues and sexual orientation, but Dreger also uses an example from Ken Zucker, a psychologist and sexologist, to elaborate on the need to avoid surgery in reference to William, the little boy who identified as a girl: "if yours were a black family and William were insisting that he is white, the right approach would not be to ask doctors to help make William white" (Dreger 27). While the surgical method will certainly "reduce parental distress and trauma" (Zeiler and Wickstrom 361), it may not be in the best interest of the child.


     Determining the best interest of the child presents its own set of problems because there is not simple solution. Just as Erickson-Schroth explained that "sexuality is more complicated than we could ever imagine…," (67) Zeiler and Wickstrom also point out that parents of intersex children discover "sex is much more fluid than they had previously thought to be the case" (368). Modern thought is now learning what Samoan culture has known for generations—there are more than two genders. The fa'afafine may not the dominant gender in Somoa, or the most popular, but at least they are given the chance to live in a way that brings them happiness. This fluidity of gender roles captures the need to open our understanding of gender beyond the current state. If we know that sex and gender do not correspond, and we know that there can be more than one gender within a culture and it will not collapse, then we should be willing in establishing new terminology in gender identity.



    Language regarding gender, sex and sexual orientation needs to be broadened. In expanding the vocabulary within these issues, Western culture and American citizens will find that there are more similarities among that which has previously been viewed as different. A more diverse lexicon will lead to a more diverse population, allowing the disenfranchised to take part in the great American experience of liberty.

Daddy Day

 
If you ever wonder what Little Man and I do when we spend the day together, this is it. He plays the guitar, and I get free entertainment.

He Loves Oatmeal

His Future's So Bright...

Little Man Time!

Every night between 8pm and 9pm we have "Little Man Time." This is a dedicated hour for me to spend with Captain Crazy because my schedule has me leaving the house at 3:30 in the morning and not coming home until 7 or 8. Sometimes we clean, sometimes we read and sometimes we play! Tonight, we played. It was fun. I like Little Man Time.

Global Warming

We went north to the Lamont-Doherty Earth Observatory's open house this morning, and little man thought that this was the best exhibit--probably because it was his height and it had toy cars. He asked for his picture to be taken, so I obliged. We learned about earthquakes, magma, oceanography, bamboo bicycles, hurricanes and crappy shuttle buses.

Caramel Apples

We bought some apples at an orchard yesterday in New Jersey to make some caramel apples. Even though we were short some awesome ingredients to have awesome toppings, they were still a blast to make. We will see how they taste after dinner, but I have a feeling that Little Man is not going to complain about free sugar...

Cherry Garcia

At the Pagan Pride festival, little man chose a Cherry Garcia ice cream bar for a snack, and it was delicious. We are chilling at Battery Park watching the boats, people and Sponge Bob.

Making Memories

Since little man and I were awake early this morning, we decided to go share some French Toast at Tom's diner.

I love my school!

Ice cream, Low Library, cute baby, awesome city, Columbia has it all!

Wings Worth Driving For

We spent some time this morning/afternoon driving to Long Beach Island in New Jersey for some most delicious Sloppy Fries (french fries covered with sloppy joe and cheese) and chicken wings.  I would have posted a "before" picture of this great meal, but I couldn't wait to start eating.  NJ may have a bad reputation, but it is home to me.

Dinner And A Sundae At Tom's

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You might recognize it from this photo.

Something Creative

I chatted with a friend recently and reminisced about the Creative Non-Fiction class we shared. This conversation made me realize that I missed sharing some of the more creative aspects of my life, so I am sharing this story. I wrote this for A, and it is meant to be read as a children's book. Take the time to read it (if you want to read it) out loud and pause at the appropriate breaks.

I hope you like it.


 
The Princess's Journey

In the very recent past, and in a Royal Kingdom close to this very spot, The Most High Queen and The Great King had a baby. They loved this little princess so much that they wanted to give her a kingdom of her very own!


 
This kingdom had customs that were not like those we know here, and this little princess needed to make a great journey to arrive at her kingdom. They could not take her themselves, so they selected others to teach the princess about her kingdom and how to get there.


 
The Most High Queen and The Great King entrusted the infant to a Brave Duke and Learned Duchess. The Duke had fought in many battles and helped other royal children journey to their kingdoms. The Duchess had traveled through many distant lands and learned the many languages and cultures of the different people.


 
Together they journeyed through the land, meeting the people, singing their songs and playing their games. They taught the princess about trust, learning and compassion. The Brave Duke reminded the princess everyday about the beautiful kingdom she would inherit, and about all the power that would be hers.


 
As the princess grew older, so did the Duke and Duchess. One night, while lying down for the evening, the Duke commented that he felt particularly tired that night. The next morning he was nowhere to be found. The Duchess and the princess continued their journey together. Soon the princess found herself traveling alone to find her kingdom.


 
Undaunted, the princess set out to learn from the best scholars the path to her kingdom. She traveled to many distant lands and met with the brightest and smartest people, but they could not tell her where her kingdom was at. When she was hungry, people gave her food. When she was cold, people gave her clothing, and when she was tired, people gave her place to rest.


 
One day she met an old man by the side of the road. "Do you know who I am?" she asked. "Of course your majesty," replied the elder. "Is this my kingdom?" asked the princess. The old man laughed and said, "No, this is not your kingdom. No one can own this land. That would be like owning the sun or wind. It does not belong to us. Keep looking and you will find your kingdom." The princess thanked him and continued her journey.


 
Over the years she had many friends travel with her. Some would travel for a few minutes, and others would travel for a few years. Then she met the prince. This prince was on a journey much like the princess', but he had found his kingdom and decided that he wanted to help the princess find hers.


 
This prince was not like the other people that she had met along the way. There was something about him that she liked. Maybe it was the way that he made her laugh, or maybe she like the way that he could make her angry. Maybe it was because he loved to meet new people and see new sights just like her.


 
Together they made many friends and traveled very far. When they met people that were hungry, they gave them food. When they met people that were cold, they gave them clothes, and when they met people that were tired, they gave them rest.


 
The princess loved the people that she met, and made sure that everyone was treated fairly and honestly. Some days the princess would be sad that she had not found her kingdom, but the prince would cheer her up and tell her that her kingdom was getting closer every day.


 
They grew older and older, teaching, learning, sharing, blessing, loving and traveling.


 
One evening as they were going to sleep, the prince said that he was particularly tired that night, and the next morning the princess was alone.


 
Still she continued to look for her kingdom, but she found that she was much happier as she helped those around her. Many came from faraway places to learn from the not-so-young princess. She gave food to those that were hungry, clothes to those that were cold, and comfort to those that were sad.


 
Finally, there came a night where she felt particularly tired.


 
The next morning when she awoke, she saw The Great King standing beneath a tree and ran to him. "Father!" she yelled as she gave him a giant hug. "Hello my daughter, I have missed you," said The Great King. The princess wanted to tell him everything that she had learned, but as she pulled away from his embrace, she saw that she was young again and did not know what to say. "Go to your mother," said the Great King.


 
The princess looked around and saw the most loving form of The Most High Queen and wondered how she didn't see her there before. "Mom!" was all she could say before tears came running down her cheeks. "Why are you crying?" asked The Most High Queen. Through the tears, the princess said, "Because I never found my kingdom." The Most High Queen hugged the princess tightly and whispered, "You have never been far from your great kingdom. Turn around."


 
The princess turned around and finally saw her kingdom.

An Apple A Day...

... keeps everyone away!

New Table

Eating mac&cheese on our new table the wife bought for 20 dollars, is a great way to spend an evening.

WallE Won

Nap time is always best with a good movie and a comfortable carseat.