The writing endeavor
I pose the question, who is more useless than a writer who doesn't write?
Somewhere between 10th and 11th grade, I decided I would be a Writer. Throughout my 12th-grade AP Calculus class and three different majors in college, my eventual destination as a writer was never in doubt. Sure, the form changed. At first, I was going to be a writer for Saturday Night Live and The Simpsons. From there, I would make the natural leap to actually becoming Conan O'Brien and hosting my own late-night talk show.
That was the first major, telecommunications and film. However, after one semester as an intern at the Fox-6 Birmingham morning show Good Day Alabama, I decided the whole TV thing wasn't really for me.
Another important event was happening to me around the same time: I lived for two years in a dorm at the University of Alabama. As a result of this, I began to watch a ridiculous quantity of sporting events on television and drank a staggeringly large amount of inexpensive beer. These events, coupled with my disappointment in the world of television led me to decide that instead of a mega-star TV writer turned talk-show host, I would write Bud Light commercials and live in comfortable but hilarious obscurity.
And, I'd still be writing. Or so I thought. The more classes I took in advertising, the more I realized how little writing and how much selling I would end up doing in the ad industry. Also, I began writing for Dateline Alabama, an on-campus news Web site run by the journalism department at UA. From there on out, it was journalism all the way. I got a degree in it, I wrote for Dateline and then the Crimson White. I wrote sports stuff and news stuff and funny stuff and things that got picked up here and there and things I doubt my father even read. I started this blog around the time John Paul II's health was declining, because the more I learned about him, the more I was inspired by what one little person could do on this giant planet of ours.
Then it was graduation, and off to a full-time job writing sports for a microscopic daily newspaper in Lumberton, North Carolina, a town that was so small it squeezed you down to fit inside it. I wrote for that rag for 19 months, and that was the only writing I did during that time. Nothing about my faith, nothing on the two novels I have perfectly laid out in my head, nothing but little Johnny's baseball game, little Jane's softball tournament and the 5" tumor growing in little Casey's brain as he ached to get back on the baseball diamond as soon as his head was small enough to fit in a batter's helmet again. They weren't all boring stories. Someday my third novel will be about the trials and tribulations of a small-town sports reporter. (As you may have noticed, I don't branch out too far into the unknown when looking for subject matter).
Most of the writing I did in my spare time in Lumberton came in the form of cover letters and resumes designed to get me out of Lumberton. One of those finally worked in March 2007, when I was hired to be a sports producer at al.com. The amount of writing I was to do changed yet again. My first responsibility at my new job is and always has been to work in HTML code and update the web site, promoting the stories written by our affiliate newspapers. I do have a blog that they let me keep on the site, but that's after all the other responsibilities are taken care of. Also, the blog is about Alabama football, which is religion enough for some, but for me news of the third-string running back's academic issues doesn't rank as earth-shattering.
So here I am, a relatively stable and easy job in tow, with a much more reliable schedule than the daily newspaper allowed. I think that means it's time to write about more than just football or high school sports. I hadn't intended to make this entry so lengthy, but I'm not going to go back and delete it either. Just allow this to serve notice that I'm back, that I'm ready to give this thing another shot, and that I'll try to be more diligent about posting. I'm still a writer inside, where it matters, so it's time to stop planning and write. Let's hope I have it in me.
The LC, take two
OK, I know it's been a while since I wrote anything here. I stopped updating when I went to Greece this summer, and after I got back, I was busy finding a job, moving and learning how to do my job. Now that I've got all that pretty well in hand, I figured it was time to revive the LC.
I figure a good place to start is with my new home, Lumberton, North Carolina. It's not a big town, but has its share of problems I used to associate with big cities. Poverty, crime, drugs, smelly people, the whole nine yards. Apparently the place used to be a textile town, but that industry has been in decline for some time. Ten years ago, things were really bad. Now the town is making a resurgence with the service industry and businesses springing up around the exits off I-95 which runs through the heart of town.
Since Ive been here, I've twice had people knock on my apartment door to ask for money. A third guy knocked on my door one day asking for an Amanda. I said no such person lived here, and hadn't for a while. The previous tenant was named Jamie (I still get her mail). I wasnt sure if the guy was confused, looking for a girlfriend who lived here years ago, or just wanted to see if someone was home before he robbed the place. None would surprise me.
A couple weeks ago, I walked down to Johnny's hot dogs, a restaurant of sorts run out of a trailer. It's a local favorite and you can buy a chili dog for $1.10 or smoked sausage (my personal favorite) for $1.30. I had gotten my usual two sausages and was sitting on a bench digging in when a homeless man rode up to me on a bicycle. He very politely asked if he could have some money to get a hot dog. I handed the guy $2, which he put in the pocket of his Charlotte Hornets jacket (they havent been the Charlotte Hornets for 3 or 4 years, and the jacket looked at least 10 years old) and rode off in the opposite direction of Johnny and his hot dogs.
Another guy walked into the newsroom one Saturday when I was working alone. I usually lock the door if its after hours, but hadn't on this day. First he asked if anyone had ordered a pizza. I said no. Then he asked if he could use the phone. I said I wasn't supposed to let non-employees in through the back door (as a large sign clearly stated) and that the office was closed. Then he said he had been in a fight with his family and was going to church to get through it and asked for $10. I'm not sure what $10 had to do with going to church, and I doubt his problems with his family could be solved by a piece of paper with Alexander Hamilton's picture on it.
These things have gotten me thinking (imagine that). The Bible's pretty clear about how we should treat strangers. The whole "what you did for the least of these, you did for Me" concept. JC didn't go around saying "you should help those less fortunate if they dont frighten you and youre sure they wont use the money for crack." That much I'm pretty confident about. But you can't just empty your wallet to everybody who walks along. What's a guy to do? I dont really know. I have no answer. You weren't expecting me to were you? Well, you should know better.
Maybe I can find some happy medium where I help some people but don't have to give up my own house. Maybe if I go do missionary work for a year I'll feel like I've made enough of a difference to not feel guilty about things. These thoughts bring me around to the saints and martyrs, examples of people who literally gave everything to help others. Not just the Mother Theresas (although she was pretty amazing). I'm thinking of the countless other missionaries, priests and others who gave up big chunks of their life in service. Sometimes I wonder if I could be like them. I think not though. I'm mostly motivated by guilt at this point, and that will only take you so far.
How Convenient
Sorry for the delay, but here we are, fresh and better than ever.
As I was munching down on my microwavable breakfast this morning, the thought occurred to me that so many of the things we use and buy on a daily basis are designed for more convenience. Why cook when you can microwave something? Why microwave something when you can get fast food on the way to work? Why breathe when they have machines that can do it for you?
This got me thinking about spirituality, especially since it was past time to update this blog. I wondered how often we let convenience get in the way of religion. There are so many levels on this one, I'll just have to pick a few. There's the obvious laziness of it being more convenient to just do whatever you feel like. If that's your perspective, nothing I write here will matter to you so we'll just ignore that one. Then there are the people who claim to believe, but only when it's convenient. I'm thinking about those who changed churches, or who are searching for a church that closely matches what they already believe. For some, this may seem like the natural way to choose, but what are they really looking for? The truth or validation? Why profess a faith just because it doesn't disagree too much with what you already believe?
Faith isn't supposed to be easy. Going back to the Bible, Jesus promises a lot of things to people who believe in him, but comfort level is not one of them. We sang a song at Mass last week with a line that said "So lead me past emotion, 'cause they change with the wind." That probably says better what I've been getting at. This was one thing that really bothered me about the interval after John Paul's death but before Benedict was elected pope. So many American Catholics treated the post like a political office. If that doesnt frighten you, think about some of the politicians we've elected. Polls showed that many American Catholics wanted the new pope to make changes to Catholic teachings in areas such as birth control; they wanted their lives to be more convenient, whether there was a spiritual justification for the inconvenience or not. People, he's the pope. He's not going to reverse 2000 years of history and teachings just because liberal American Catholics want more convenience in their lives. Politics or emotions change with the times. Look at the 60s compared to the 80s to now. The Church is not about all that. Religion should be about something bigger, more important. If it isn't, then why bother having it at all?
Girls, girls, girls
I thought it would be appropriate to make my first real entry about a subject that occupies my thoughts pretty often. I am, after all, a single 23-year-old male. Being as such, I tend to think about the opposite sex a lot. Not always in good ways or at proper times. Take for example this Sunday at Mass. I'll just say I caught myself more than once focusing on things other than the first and second readings. I've realized this for a while, but it continues to be an issue. It's so hard for me to concentrate sometimes and remember that I'm there to receive Jesus, his Word and his Body, and not to gawk at a girl with a low-cut top. I'm assuming more people than me have this problem, although I don't actually know because it doesn't usually come up in conversation.
Not that it's bad to meet women at church. I know plenty of couples who met that way, and someday I hope to locate a special someone in a pew next to me. I just have to remember to stay focused on the action during the actual Mass. Besides, I don't think "I couldn't stop staring at you during Father's homily," is a very good pick-up line. Changing it to "I couldn't stop staring at you and the girl in the third row on the left side and the one in the green dress in the back and..." will certainly lead to disaster.
After all, we are called to be like Christ in our actions. I could check the NT again, but I don't think Jesus ever got caught staring. This has been a hang-up of mine and several other male friends I have. We do our best to do God's will some of the time, but the minute an attractive female enters the picture, all bets are off. I can recall being boxed out once at a party talking to the one single girl there who wasn't part of the usual crowd. I felt like I was playing basketball, trying to get a rebound. I didn't know whether to come back with a witty remark (my usual weapon in such situations) or sneak around for a tip-in. See there, I did it too. My usual weapon. It's like a war. And those were some of my friends. We can work a soup kitchen during the day but at night we're cavemen waiting to club someone and drag her back to our cave. There's nothing about that last paragraph that seems Christ-like to me. And yet, I'm as bad as the next person.
And how about the other extreme? How do we act toward an admirer when we don't feel the same way? Finally, something females can relate to. I've been on both sides of this scenario and I know that there's this temptation to treat them as if they have some type of disease. As if the slightest courtesy would be a sign to the other party that wedding bells weren't far off. Again, if we fall into this trap, we fall short of the example of love that Jesus set for us. Just something to think about.
Next time: Dennis shares his thoughts on God's plan for our lives (unless he's hit with some divine inspiration between now and then, in which case, all bets are off).
Bienvenidos
Welcome to the world of my faith journey. And, for good measure, some random silliness. I hope you enjoy it, learn something from it, or perhaps just absorb someone else's point of view. The posts should be coming up soon whenever I feel so inspired. Hopefully I can generate some inspiration pretty soon.
