a teetotaler among drunkards is not esteemed, part 3

I don't remember where I was going with this before, but I can wrap up one thought. I was at a family get together last night and was grilled with a hundred and one questions about what I believed in and was lectured on why it just was senseless to believe the way I did. When asked what I was in college for, I would reply "youth ministry in an urban setting" -- to help adolesents in dangerous situations-- I don't live in an urban setting now, but if I did move there, I would face the same dangerous situations.

"Why would you do that? That's mindless, that is. Do what you want to do, what pleases you." (because my family assumes this is not what I want to do)

I'd reply "Now most every young girl as she grows will dream of having her own child/ren one day and the moment her dream becomes reality, her priorities must change. It's no longer "I want to care for this child"; it's partially obligation, "I must nurture this child". And at that very moment, her life is no longer her own. Going into an urban setting, I make the same sacrifice, just a little bit more consciously; plus after some time, my life may lead me elsewhere while a mother's job shall never cease."

That makes sense to me, and I think that on any other occasion it would have made sense to my listeners as well, but it was late and everyone had a few drinks. And here's the confusing bit: my audience could have believed the exact same thing I did and they could still be fools. Why? It is the reason and not the thing itself, which makes a fool. I know I'm not foolish if I have a justifiable reason for the things I am doing. **Now I know this raises questions on who qualifies justice, but let's forget that for now** But simplistically, a person who lets others define his actions and shape his decisions might as well be a marionette dangling from six strings and nobody likes that prospect.

the comedy of errors

After visiting Stratford upon Avon and Oxford (among others, i.e. Salisbury Plains, Betws y Coyd) I realize that I have many misconceptions about England, which no explaining over a blog can clear up. So so many misconceptions about Oxford in particular and learning about it has been quite a privilege.

On campus at Oxford (which isn't actually a university per se--it is a town/community of 42 colleges) there are 16,000 students enrolled and even more tourists. The way it works is as follows: When you apply to a certain college in the Oxford community, tutors from different colleges exchange information and meet to consider everyone applying to study their subject, to ensure that the best candidates get places, whichever college they chose. As well as your college of preference (or allocated college, if you make an open application), another college may also interview you and perhaps offer you a place. When you are enrolled (not at Oxford University, but rather a specific college) you are allowed to take classes of the arts and sciences in any college in the university's community.

However, on two occasions (when you matriculate and graduate) you are brought through a common building owned by Oxford University (not a particular college) called the Chaldean Theatre. They also take their examinations in a common hall, probably the most feared building on all of Oxford's High Street. Students wear full academic accoutrements (subfusc) during these occasions and when they've been found to have mastered the teachings, they graduate from "College" Oxford University. (I.e. Magdelen Oxford University) This is where I want to attend a few classes (pronounced Maudlin) for the exchange program I am enrolling in next year. One thing that really stuck out to me as superb is the tutorial system of fellows they have. Twice a week a student will meet with his/her fellow and argue a thesis until the fellow decides the argument is adequate. This way, a student will gain teaching skills and absorb the material better. Really, this is what Oxford University aims for: masters of subjects, not recipients of degrees.

a teetotaler among drunkards is not esteemed, part 2

Last off, I said "character traits are not revered cross culturally, and therefore cannot be universal" and "a fool thinks himself wise, and all men (not just wise men) have the ability to think others are fools." So who's the fool?? the one who swims against the current or the one who happily swims with it. "Fool" certainly is a relative term, because certainly no one considers himself one and certainly everyone considers different people foolish. The judgments are rarely in agreement.

To make matters more confusing, the practical definition of sanity is culturally defined. Therefore insane (like the movie Shutter Island illustrates so effectively) is objective and whether you fit the category or not is not your decision.

So, here's the deal: a wise man looks a fool to a group of fools. But a fool can be completely sensible. Everything he wants in life, he may succeed in. A pleasure seeker is often quite skilled at finding pleasure, but that isn't enough to make someone a fool and pleasure is not in itself bad, as though to be avoided. Asceticism can often be foolish. (i.e. to the majority of the world, pious religious leaders look like they don't even enjoy life).

So who's right? The one who follows the crowd and has a good time at it or the one who goes against the crowd and still has a good time at it.... and does it really matter?

I'll continue later...

a teetotaler among drunkards is not esteemed

A prude and one who is prudent, they can be quite synonymous; however, being called a prude is rarely considered a compliment. It does (prude) have a noble past though. According to New World, the change for the worse took place in the French language. French prude first had a good sense, a "wise woman," but apparently a woman could be too wise or, in the eyes of some, too observant of decorum and propriety. Proud, high nosed and pretentious: they are all closer synonyms to the now derogatory term "prude." I say this because as I am growing older, I am coming to create my own moral absolutes and practical proverbs and in my thought prudence, I am often called this.

"You ain't a [insert last name here], Kyle," some members of my hosting relatives will jokingly say (Not that they are drunkards or that I disrespect their choices in any way haha). "Oh, they must have got it wrong at the hospital then, my mistake" I'll reply with a laugh. "I'll double check the birth records..." Such a response is enough for some members of my kin, but I have to get really creative in my retorts with others. The fact of the matter is that I don't like drinking alcohol; although, when legal, I will have a glass of light wine or similar.. and I have my reasons:
1. Most of my life, I will inhabit the body of an old man and every day that goes by increases the percentage of my life I will be "old." I want to be comfortable in my old age and I know that requires me looking after my young body; they are, after all, the same body.
2. I can have just as good of a time without drinking and after I have refused a refill half a dozen times, I get to enjoy myself while retaining sensible judgment.
There you have it; although I have a thousand more things to say on this matter, I'll save those for my next edition. My main point is that character traits are not revered cross culturally, and therefore cannot be universal. A fool will think himself wise cross-culturally, and all men (not just wise men) have the ability to think others are fools (in order to think yourself a wise-man, a comparison must be made in which you are the victor). I'll continue later.

"Your Career Boy!! Hurry Now; I Haven't Got All Day!"

In England, after grade school a student can enroll in sixth form college. Full-time primary education is compulsory for all children between 5 and 16 years and optionally one may then continue his or her secondary education for a further two years (sixth form), leading most typically to an A level qualification. Higher education typically begins with a 3-year Bachelor's Degree. Postgraduate degrees include Master's Degrees, either taught or by research, and Doctor of Philosophy, a research degree that usually takes at least 3 years (similar to in America). My point in saying this is that since most of my cousins (all similar age to me--a dozen or so) have forgone postgraduate education and have taken trades which provide on-the-job training, I've been asked a lot about my career/soon coming career.
"Well...." starts my long winded response as I think to myself, 'I need to condense this explanation. No one wants to hear this.' I continue, "I'm in college right now with a laundry list of credentials and aspirations for the future. I want to be a youth minister for a time and go to law school... oh write books and record music and build a house. I want to retire with a tea shop and conservatory filled with rare plants and books." --All of these things are true, but they're hardly the responses a person is looking for. I realize that life may take me in a million directions, but I really only have to speculate one at a time. So from now on, I'll say "Youth Ministry and wherever the wind blows."

But I do want to create a list of things I'd like to do at some point in life. So I'll get right on it.

Heritage and the Loss Thereof

My Grandad drives through the streets of Staffordshire, the old brick house he lived in with a glisten in his eye. His light hearted banter became strangely silent as he pulled past his childhood driveway. It's been years since he and his past have made such a strong reconnection... and I had the privilege of sharing it with him. As he came out of Cromer Rd. he turned his car and said "I'll take you to where your Nan lived." (She died when I was 11 and I can tell my grandad truly misses her) "Bloody hell, this drive seems longer than the walk used to be" he half-joked as the miles dragged on; his laugh was filled with heartache and his cough half-covered it. And there we arrived at my Nan's old terraced house.

Earlier that day, he noted how much everything costs, how the youth think money grows on trees, and how in his day "kids could have more fun we do without a halfpenny in their spending pocket." As much as England has been modernized and fit to look American, I think they've maintained a good deal of personality (from my American perspective). I was offered cereal, which offered an "American taste" and I noticed how the flea arket setting in their mall has changed since last time I had been. The culture my grandad so keenly remembered, was disappearing and I can attest to the small bit I remembered changing. Even England is slowly but surely losing its small cottage coziness and I already miss it. A good of it is empathy with my grandad, but there is truth to it. (Did I mention the fact that nearly every English teenager I've conversed with wishes he or she lived in America?!)

On a lighter note, there have been many wonderful blasts back into my past: english custard and toffee, english sweets and England's kooky spelling of her words. So many entees bring back such sweet delectable memories. Oatcakes, jelly, yorkshire pudding, all the other puddings (which in England is synonymous for dessert), and .. every single food that I would have no greater pleasure in than bringing them back home for my friends to experience. Alas 3 dozen oatcakes (which feeds a family for 3 meals) costs £65 to ship, which is about $100 in U.S. currency. The duty (taxes) makes it nigh impossible to send any postage (mail). And my friends shipping themselves over here is no cheaper

A Subcultural Study

Midlands, England. Though a good majority of my family calls this home, I have to call (on the telephone) to speak with them. I've been out here a hand's count, the last time being nine years ago, I believe. I say "out here" because I'm here now getting to know most of my family for the first time as an adult.... and I've been studying them--in a good way. I like their manners and their mannerisms, their hospitility and their general subculture. Granted, I may be shockingly biased, but if I do say so myself the common folk in England have good lives and have a good time at it.
Most of the problems in America, I believe, are political and social. I say this because I've noticed that England is "left-sided". Not necessarily politically, but in general interactions. Not only do they pass eachother on the left side of the road, but they also hug the left aisle in the grocery marts and while taking the stairs grasp the left handrail. When they talk to you, they shift their faces to the left and pass cups with their left hand. Me, trying to mimic their dialect and manners, have adopted several of these "left-sided" tendencies. I now hold my fork with my left hand and jab my food with the underside of my fork visible to eyes; I cut with my knife in the right.
This may have no relevant implications, but for the time being, it's giving me a good deal of "myrgth" as the english would say.

"...Lord, Make me Stronger"

Recently, a friend of mine told me about a sermon he heard at camp this summer. In this sermon, the speaker examined the difference between American believers and those in third world countries when faced with trials. Perhaps because we have adequite provision, when faced with trail, an American will ask, "Lord, make this load lighter." Someone who has dealt with a quantity of hardship is more inclined to ask, "Lord, make me stronger." Though this may contain a good deal of insight, it's not the point I wish to make. With this thought in mind, I caught myself thinking I'd like a lighter load.
Here's the story: every year I devote a weekend to work a Greek Festival at the Orthadox Church near our house. It's a lot of hard work. Under normal conditions, it's 14 hours of work each day (just a weekend- 3 days) and there are plenty of workers... so it's bearable. This year, the church decided they would hire less workers and the 2 workers helping me were 1. squeemish, and 2. indolent. On saturday, the busiest day, each of the 30 odd trash barrels we have to empty is scattered around the festival grounds and filled every 10 minutes after it was emptied; therefore, common math says each barrel had to be emptied every 20 seconds (not mentioning the four minutes it took to wheel the trash cart over to the dumpster). Clearly, though emptying trash seems like it's a mindless task, it takes a well-oiled machine to do it on this particular occasion (and I'm sure it's equally as well managed by those in the profession of waste management). I organized the bags each person would empty and even arranged breaks during the two hours of hype in which the most popular attractions are the garbage cans (as though the pope himself says "garbage... dump now"(that was an awful Catholic joke. I try to be funny; I swear. Btw, it's Orthadox, not Catholic... I know lol )).
Well, here's the thing, just the three of us were doing a good job, working hard--; the cart was centrally located. However, the break that my coworkers took lasted half an hour before I coincidentally lugged the cart past the two of them, who were talking with a guy parking cars. I didn't even say anything, but to add insult to injury, one sarcastically vociferated "Keep up the good work. How's for a round of applause!" over towards me. Then they clapped... and laughed (at me, not with me). Well there it is; I felt gross, I had been working hard, and I wanted to throw in the towel. And then that sermon came to mind--I swear you hear things in church or in conversation and read these things in Scripture to encourage you in these trying moments. At that moment, when I asked God for strength (strength is perceived and originates in the mind, not the muscles) with a full intention of finishing the night with or without help before I got to the dumpster, fireworks started. I laughed and smiled. That bit of motivation kept my spirits high for the rest of the night. And all I can say is, "God is good!"

in an effort against culinary ostinato

If I learned one thing during my Discovery camping trip at Gordon this last semester, it’s that (in extreme circumstances) crackers and just about any topping you can find taste amazing together. After hiking eight hours and exhaustively breaking for lunch, you’d think just about anything is edible—so my group tried some very strange combinations; you know the type of concoction you could imagine paying someone to eat back in grade school... these were worse.

One of the most popular bases to our concoctions was peanut butter; any combination you could possibly think of, we tried it. Peanut butter and jelly, peanut butter and cheese, peanut butter and mustard (okay, I’ll stop there). However to my astonishment, some of these concoctions still taste good (under normal circumstances!!). Okay not all of them, but you can mix peanut butter with almost anything and create a new original recipe while retaining that distinct peanut butter taste. For example: coconut oil, chocolate syrup, hazelnut, vanilla extract, and maple syrup even tastes good in small quantities. Even chocolate chips make for an interesting sandwich (especially with banana)!

Those are among the few I made today as I tried to remedy the lack of interesting food in the house. Try it out; spice up the kitchen! (Actually I take that back. Please don’t add conventional spices to peanut butter. That would be horrendous.)

*Disclaimer—I take no responsibility for any foul-tasting first attempts. But I do take full responsibility for sandwiches, which bring happiness, haha