"Puzzles and codes, I imagine they lay down to you like lovers."

Last night I decided to be social, so I went to a friend's house with a couple of friends.  We all decided that it was the perfect movie-watching night, but we had some disagreements on which film to watch.  Some people wanted to watch a scary film, while one wanted to watch a Disney film. 

Somehow, we decided that The DaVinci Code was a compromise on these two things.

I'm still not really sure how that worked.

Anyways, we watched The DaVinci Code.  And in between squirming when Paul Bettany tortured himself "for Jesus' sake", wondering why Tom Hanks thought having long hair would ever be a good idea, being generally confused by the complexity of the plot, and questioning what was true history and what was "true" history, I found myself questioning how the filmmakers wanted me to feel by the end of the film.

The point of the film seemed to me to be that Jesus was married and had a child by Mary Madgalene, which apparently meant that Jesus was not divine, but just a regular Joe. 

This just seemed like the strangest point in the world to make.  Of all the reasons you could think of to "prove" that Jesus was not divine, really?  That's the one you chose?

 
Here's my thing: say Jesus was married to Mary and say he was just a man and say God doesn't exist and say we are all just hanging out on earth until we die and say there's nothing after we die, just blackness and the end.  Say all of that is true.  Say it's all true, and that believing in God and Jesus is stupid because there is no God and no Divine Jesus and nothing but us.

Alright, that's fine.  I'm still going to follow God, even if he is just make believe.

Here's why: if there's nothing more beyond us and life, then that means we are all living a pretty hopeless life.  And we're all just going to become nothing after we're done here.

If that is the case, I don't want it.  I don't want life.  If this is it, why keep living this?  There would be absolutely no point besides self-gratification.

So I'll just keep sticking with God, even if there is no God, and even if Jesus isn't Divine.  At least by believing in Him, even if it wasn't real, I'd be living for something besides my own self-gratification.  I'd be living for some kind of purpose.

And if God isn't real and it's all made up, it's not going to make a difference whether I believe in it or not, right?  I'd still become nothingness when I die, so why does Ron Howard care if I believe in it or not?

At least I have more hope and a point to my existence than he does.  At least I wake up in the morning and can embrace the day with a fake sense of security and hope, instead of waking up thinking, "One more day closer to becoming nothingness."

I wish I was as creative and brilliant as C. S. Lewis was and could say this as beautifully as he did, but I don't think I can.  So I'll just write out what he said:

"Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things - trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important that the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well it strikes me as a pretty poor one... I'm on Aslan's side even if there isn't any Aslan to lean on... we're leaving your court at once and setting out in the dark to spend our lives looking for Overland. Not that our lives will be very long, I should think; but that's a small loss if the world's as dull a place as you say."

I'm glad I have hope.



 

Well you're hot, hot, loaded like a gun

I'm questioning if there is anything more peaceful than sitting in the School of Religion's Reading Room, listening to the rain, and wearing my comfy-but-cute clothes.

I think not.

Well, if you add sushi in the mix, it would make it perfection, naturally.

It's days like these, when there's lots to be done but time to just sit and listen to the rain and talk to God for a little while, these days are the days where it's just good to be alive.

Even bad hair can't get you down on days like this.  These are the days that headbands and bobby pins were created for.

On days like today, I wish I lived in France, and I wish I could dance. Or at least could make an attempt at dancing.  When I dance now, I just look like a dying animal.

I want to dance like Gene Kelly.  Is that possible? 

Storytelling

Sometimes I feel like being a journalist means I get to experience the things that other people do without actually doing them myself.

I can't decide if this is a good thing or not.

I interviewed an actress today.  Secretly, I've always wanted to act.  You know how you have those plans that you will never follow through with, but you know that if you could do anything in the world, you would do x?  I've always thought acting in plays is like that thing for me.

So I was excited to interview this actress.  And in talking with her and listening to the fluctuation of her voice and the way she spoke in hushed tones about becoming her character when she is on stage, I imagined myself in her shoes.  For that eighteen-and-a-half minute interview, I personified myself as an actress.

And then I came home and wrote the story.  And turned back into the storyteller I am inside.

Does that mean that a good storyteller puts on different hats in order to tell the best story possible 

Maybe not.  But I think that's what I'm finding myself doing.

Maybe it's hard to see anything negative about this.  But at times, especially the past month or so, I've found myself backing out of activities and living (in certain ways) because I have to interview someone or write a story or whatever.  And while I am talking to them or writing their story, I feel like a part of something huge, even if it's just talking to an actress who shaved her head for a play or a lonesome man who drives a trolley.

But sometimes when I'm done writing the story or talking to them or I put away my storytelling pen, I am reminded that I forgo certain aspects of life in order to tell others' stories.  I have at times put aside my own life in order to tell someone else's.

Is that sane?

"This is my rock and role face. Millions of women find it very sexy."

It's funny to watch people's reactions to you smile at them. 

That's one thing I've noticed about students here.  You can tell a lot about a student by their reaction to your smile. 

Maybe people do this everywhere, and I've just noticed it since I've been at Lee.  But when people see someone else walking towards them, they look at everything in the world they can possibly look at to avoid eye contact until the most opportune moment.  

Then, when the timing is right, when you are both passing each other, you look up and acknowledge their presence. 

It's an odd system to me, but I've found myself following this unspoken rule while I've been here.  If you deviate from this rule, it really throws people off.  

What throws them off even more is when you smile as broadly as you can to someone you don't even know.  Or, Heaven forbid, when you speak to them. 

I tested this theory the other day.  I was walking past a girl I had seen around but never actually met.  She has one of the best senses of fashion I've ever seen, and I'm constantly jealous of her outfits.  

So the other day, as we walked past each other, I looked at her until she looked up from the ground, and smiled my most friendly smile, then said, "I love your dress." 

I thought she was going to fall over in shock or something.  

I took her so off guard, I heard her utter an, "Um, thanks," after we had already passed each other. 

It made me laugh that such a simple, friendly gesture would shock someone so much. 

It also made me want to break the unspoken rule more often.  Just to see people react as if the world has just been shaken and confused. 

Attribution for the title: Hugh Grant in Music And Lyrics