Mel Web

Technology is a fun area of work.  It’s always changing and evolving.  Lots of new ideas and tools come out all the time.  New opportunities are very common to us employees too.  I was sort of recruited to a very well respected company here in GR.  I say “sort of” because if it were not for the president of the company directly encouraging me to apply, then advocating for me after, I would not be writing this right now.  I owe him a very special thanks.

I have been offered and taken a position at Atomic Object.  I look forward to starting on Monday. I thought you would like to know.

I’m saved no matter what, why should I do good and behave?

Answer this in the comments and then I will post my epiphany answer.

It’s a common phrase to say that someone who makes a obviously poor choice that effects others “should be taken out back and shot”.  But that doesn’t solve anything because they don’t get a chance to make up for their wrong doing.

Sitting by the window at work a Hummer H2 pulled up to the ajoinnig suite.  I took a good look at for a moment.  Then exclaimed to in my usual IRC haunt, “What an absurd and ridiculous civilian vehicle.”  My friend appropriately responded with

“Yeah, there is no reason on earth to own one other than to prove to the world you make a ton of money (IE, enough to be able to fill the tank.)”

This of course stirred up some passion in me, and some frustration with the state of US.  No one should be wasting money like that.  No one.  My proposal isn’t that we take someone like this out back and shoot them.  No, No.  I propose that if you have that much money and throw it away so foolishly you should be taken out back and left in a third world country for a week.

Seriously though: we really do need to show people why they’re doing and why it’s a problem.  I encourage you all do it in the little ways.  The simple ways.  We can change this world one little bit at a time.

Sure, God exists.

Yup, Got me a Savior, it’s awesome.

If you agree with those two statements then you accept the basic truths of Christianity.  But are you really a Christian?  To be Christian means to be a disciple of Christ.  That is, to strive to be like Christ.  I keep reading my bible and realizing how crappy I am at this.  I don’t love everyone equally, I boast about myself,  I chase after worldly things that can be stolen, rust, and fade, I certainly do not act as a slave to all others, I’m really bad at being a good stuart, and I’m a complete failure when it comes to evangelizing.  Heck, I can’t even abide by the commandments.

Lucky for me God knew I’d be a fuck up.

But grace and a savior don’t excuse me from my responsibilities.  I find myself surrounded by ‘believers’ that entice me to be lazy in those responsibilities.  These are the folks that may or may not go to church, for the right or wrong reasons.  But they profess to be christians and to spend time with God, and to keep Him close.  Yet their actions say something else.  And if you ask them, they’ll tell you about how they think God accepts what they’re doing, that it’s just bending the rules.  The have an “understanding” with God is what they tell me.

I have finally, after many years of being a ‘believer’, become a disciple.  This has lead to many realizations about how poor my knowledge of God’s feelings.  That’s a crazy notion that I think gets neglected:  God’s feelings.  God has feelings?  God feels for us?  We offend Him and hurt Him?  We can make Him dance with joy?

Do I make Him dance more than cry?  Do I disappoint Him more often than I make Him smile?  Just because I think it’s okay in His eyes am I really doing what He wants?  Am I actually frustrating Him with my misunderstanding of His wishes?  I am serving God in a advisory capacity instead of as an underling?  How does it feel when someone points out in the bible “You’re doing it wrong!”?  How will I know when I’ve meet His wishes? Am I really being a disciple or just a believer?

Even the most heated discussion ends with gained perspective.  Often the conviction (aka stubbornness) of any party involved sheds light on another possible ‘right’.  Sometimes we learn our perspective was wrong.  Some times we find more support for our current conviction.  Sometime we just agree that there is more than one way and neither is more right than the other.

All heated conversations start the same way: peacefully.  And that’s how it started last night.  But at one point someone shared an opinion that wasn’t shared by all.  I walked away at the point when I became overwhelming offended.  I collected my thoughts so that I could make a clear, strong, proper representation of my opposite opinion.  In doing so I used a stereotype that we were both in:  All sportbikers are stunt monkey, wild child, loose cannons.  We both take offense to that stereotype, and suddenly the tables are turned.  We’re all part of stereotypes.  Women can’t drive, sportbikers are crazy idiots, geeks don’t play sports, and the list goes on.

We’re so quick to judge based on surface or first impressions.  We learn their profession before we meet them and suddenly you have a prefixed idea of who they are, what they stand for, and where their morality is like.  Or we see they’re ‘fat and lazy’, or ‘a dumb blonde’, or just ‘dumb’, and refuse to show them the same respect as we do our friends.  Then when we get lumped in, though, we’re offended.  So do we really treat people the way we want to be treated?

Yes, it’s the golden rule… but from where did this awesome idea come from?  The bible of course.  Where else does such timeless advice come from?  Being that it’s Lent and a time in which we are supposed to be renewing and growing our faith, a little scripture seems appropriate.  In Matthew 22 Jesus was tested by the people who tried to trick him into giving precedence to the commandments as though some were more important than others.  Instead he summed them up into two, one of which is the famous golden rule.

Matthew 22:36-40  (English Standard Version)

“Teacher, which is the great commandment in the Law?” And he said to him, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment.  And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.  On these two commandments depend all the Law and the Prophets.”

SO.  I learned last night that I’m not seen by everyone I know as perpetuating and feeding the “girls can’t ride” stereotype.  Which I was feeling heavy about.  And so I hope to someday be a far better rider than I am now so that I can pin “girls can ride” up on my private list of overcome challenges.  I want to pin it right up there next to “Girls can catch and filet fish”, “Girls and code”, “Sportbikers are controlled, normal humans”, and “Geeks are active and athletic”.

I think also did a decent job of opening the eyes of someone else to a new perspective on stereotyping.  I can only hope that I’ve passed along some food for thought to you as well.

I find great amusement in many little things.  Most people don’t find joy/amusement in the things that I do.  But that’s okay because it’s all subjective.  I happen to find self expression on a vehicle plate amusing.  Inspired by my friend’s new bike plate I went hunting for one of my own.  Check out the whole pile and leave a comment if you find any particularly good and would like to see it become a reality.  Or, if you want you can suggest one.  But you have to first see if it’s available:  Michigan Personalized Plate Creator.  Here’s what friends and I came up with as options (in no particular order)

Above:  It’s a LOLCats thing.  Don’t know lolcats? icanhascheezburger.com 

Above: Imagine getting a plate frame that turned “MICHIGAN” into “Hello, I’m ” so that it looked just like a name tag

Above:  Well, I am, and proud to be on sportbike.

Above:  My online handle, as many know, is some form of “mercury” so naturally, the plate could follow.

Above: Sometimes the simplest is the best.

Above:  Regardless stereotypes… I hear it a lot at stop lights from all sorts.

Above: I a cutie too, not just a biker.  This is the corniest in my opinion.  I’m not inclined to actually have this on my bike, but it was an option.

Leave some comments, k?

So yesterday was Ash Wednesday.  This starts a very important season at church.  I would say more important than Advent (aka: the Christmas season).  Lent is the time leading up to Easter.  Being that Easter is basically the core of Christianity really… I mean, if you’re sharing the story of Easter you’re sharing the story of Christianity.  So what’s so important about the time preceding Easter?

Traditionally Easter was the time that new followers prepared for Baptism and old hands reexamined things.  Baptisms now take place as needed, whenever.  But we still should take time to reflect, study, and grow as followers.  And if you’re not baptized, now is an excellent time to look into changing that.

So one way to examine ourselves and our devotion as well as gain a better understanding of Easter is to give up something for 40 days.  In the past I have given up procrastination, forgetting to read my bible, and a variety of simpler things like chocolate (which, if you don’t know me, is weak because I don’t actually like chocolate).  This year is tough.  I’ve scaled so much of my life back because of the foot injury, low income, and personal devotion to God.  It took forever to come up with something significant to give up.  There is little ‘fluff’ in my life at that moment.  I want to give up something that will remind me daily to keep God in the forefront of my mind.

Several things have crossed my mind: my motorcycle, not living in a disorganized space (my bedroom is a mess, as is my paperwork for 2007), online chatting, booze, and much more.  But nothing seemed to fit my goal: to keep God at the forefront of my mind.  So what can I do?

I’ve given up recreational web surfing.  It’s the only thing I can think of that I do daily that I simply don’t need to do.  It’s rough, but it’s like giving up TV for most people. Wish me luck!

BTW: This does exclude me from all my ‘daily’ sites [ blogs, livejournal, web comics, etc], but is does not stop me from work related web use (duh!), I might even still update this blog, maybe.

I have such a list of things I’m passionate about.  Sometimes I don’t even realize that I’m passionate about something until I’ve flown off the handle about it.  This usually happens when someone else gets me going either by sharing my enthusiasm or have opposition to it.

The things that get us worked up, these passions, these things that we hold dear to us, are what make us different than any other living thing.  No matter how endearing my cat is, and how much I like to personify him, he’s a cat.  He doesn’t get a broken heart or infuriated with me when I take away his favorite toy so that I can wash it.  He just moves on.  Emotionally sterile.  Yes, it was is favorite toy, he does have favorites, but he’s not full of passion about it.

Passion is what gives us that spark in our eye when we talk about our hobbies, our loves, our interests.  I feel so blessed to have passion about so many things.  I’ve even had people (both strangers and friends) tell me how much they enjoy seeing me get passionate about something.  I feel compelled to compile a list of a few things that come to mind that I’m passionate about.  I would love it if you would help me grow my list and share some of your passions in the comments.

A few of mine:

• Worship & Discipleship
• Skiing
• Sportbiking
• Michigan
• Doing things “the right way” the first time
• Taking care of my body
• Pets
• Parenting (though I have no kids, yet)
• Good Friends
• My Partner: Ogg
• Work Ethic

Nothing in that list will fail to get me in an energized debate with someone who takes the opposing stance on the topic.  That’s not to say I’m right, or they’re wrong.  In fact several of those items are very subjective, for instance Parenting.  There are many ways to raise a child.  I have some strong feelings about parental responsibilities that will conflict with other valid methods of child rearing.  Though I’m bound to offend and upset some with this: I don’t find Worship & Discipleship to be subjective.  I don’t “believe” in God as if God were something I’m hoping on being there but am ultimately deeply unsure of.  I accept that God is as much a truth and fact as gravity, carbon, and water.  I can rely on God, eternal life, and all the truth of the bible as much as I can rely on the sun coming up tomorrow.

And there I go again, flying off the handle about my passion for God.  I look forward to seeing passion each day in those around me, even if they’re polar opposite of my passions.

Enjoy life, enjoy being human, enjoy your passions. Express your passions to the world; express your humanity.

Jesus said, and I quote, “I am the way, the truth and the life”.

Three very strong points. All three are at the core of Christian perspective. Jesus is our teacher who gives us the path (aka: way) to true happiness by following His teachings on love and life. In crucification He defeated death so that we’ll always have life, both in Heaven with our Father, and a more fulfilling one here if we follow him. But the truth?

Sure we can say simply that Jesus did not lie. Or that Jesus was, and that is the truth. But truth is something that runs much deeper. And I dare say it’s harder to accept whole truth than a savior and teacher. It’s so easy to make God and/or His son our co-pilot, to have him serve us, fitting Him into our lives as we see fit. It’s so easy to say “God loves me even if I don’t do everything right” and allow that to be our reason for not doing ‘faithy’ things. And although it is true that He is always forgiving our short comings it’s not an excuse to allow us to not even try. We’re commissioned children, made in His image, to follow the teachings of a savior. And yet because we’re known to be imperfect we allow ourselves to be as imperfect as we see fit. I hardly think that’s living up to God’s wishes.

It’s a challenge to convince myself that worship service is for Him and not me. It feels so unnatural to pass on Jesus’ love when I am confronted with people I despise. It’s really hard to accept that everything the bible says is right, and I’m wrong. I don’t want to have to study the bible daily as though it were life sustaining food for my soul. And it’s near impossible for me to talk about God in front of most people. However, life is short. Eternity isn’t. That doesn’t leave me with much time to screw around. Perhaps it’s time I drop the excuses and read up on what it is that God expects of me for real instead of going off hearsay and selfishness. Care to join me?

February is going to be a month I spent learning about God’s expectations of Me and all His kids. Would you like to say the same about your February? Comment.

As many of you know: The rear tire of my bike lost traction in a parking lot, snapped out, and crushed my left foot. What most of you won’t understand is why I still love my bike like I love God and living in a free country.

I am not poetic, nor am I an impressive orator. Without the help of others I could probably never express what it is about being a motorcyclist that I can never, and will never, give up. Lucky for me a stranger by the name of Dave Karlotski did it for me. Please read his story with an open mind and listen to the passion of a fellow rider.

Season of the Bike
by Dave Karlotski

There is cold, and there is cold on a motorcycle. Cold on a motorcycle is like being beaten with cold hammers while being kicked with cold boots, a bone bruising cold. The wind’s big hands squeeze the heat out of my body and whisk it away; caught in a cold October rain, the drops don’t even feel like water. They feel like shards of bone fallen from the skies of Hell to pock my face. I expect to arrive with my cheeks and forehead streaked with blood, but that’s just an illusion, just the misery of nerves not designed for highway speeds.

Despite this, it’s hard to give up my motorcycle in the fall and I rush to get it on the road again in the spring; lapses of sanity like this are common among motorcyclists. When you let a motorcycle into your life you’re changed forever. The letters “MC” are stamped on your driver’s license right next to your sex and height as if “motorcycle” was just another of your physical characteristics, or maybe a mental condition.

But when warm weather finally does come around all those cold snaps and rainstorms are paid in full because a motorcycle summer is worth any price. A motorcycle is not just a two-wheeled car; the difference between driving a car and climbing onto a motorcycle is the difference between watching TV and actually living your life. We spend all our time sealed in boxes and cars are just the rolling boxes that shuffle us languidly from home-box to work-box to store-box and back, the whole time entombed in stale air, temperature regulated, sound insulated, and smelling of carpets.

On a motorcycle I know I’m alive. When I ride, even the familiar seems strange and glorious. The air has weight and substance as I push through it and its touch is as intimate as water to a swimmer. I feel the cool wells of air that pool under trees and the warm spokes of sunlight that fall through them. I can see everything in a sweeping 360 degrees, up, down and around, wider than PanaVision and higher than IMAX and unrestricted by ceiling or dashboard.

Sometimes I even hear music. It’s like hearing phantom telephones in the shower or false doorbells when vacuuming; the pattern-loving brain, seeking signals in the noise, raises acoustic ghosts out of the wind’s roar. But on a motorcycle I hear whole songs: rock ‘n roll, dark orchestras, women’s voices, all hidden in the air and released by speed.

At 30 miles an hour and up, smells become uncannily vivid. All the individual tree-smells and flower-smells and grass-smells flit by like chemical notes in a great plant symphony. Sometimes the smells evoke memories so strongly that it’s as though the past hangs invisible in the air around me, wanting only the most casual of rumbling time machines to unlock it.

A ride on a summer afternoon can border on the rapturous. The sheer volume and variety of stimuli is like a bath for my nervous system, an electrical massage for my brain, a systems check for my soul. It tears smiles out of me: a minute ago I was dour, depressed, apathetic, numb, but now, on two wheels, big, ragged, windy smiles flap against the side of my face, billowing out of me like air from a decompressing plane. Transportation is only a secondary function. A motorcycle is a joy machine. It’s a machine of wonders, a metal bird, a motorized prosthetic. It’s light and dark and shiny and dirty and warm and cold lapping over each other; it’s a conduit of grace, it’s a catalyst for bonding the gritty and the holy.

I still think of myself as a motorcycle amateur, but by now I’ve had a handful of bikes over a half dozen years and slept under my share of bridges. I wouldn’t trade one second of either the good times or the misery. Learning to ride was one of the best things I’ve done.

Cars lie to us and tell us we’re safe, powerful, and in control. The air-conditioning fans murmur empty assurances and whisper, “Sleep, sleep.” Motorcycles tell us a more useful truth: we are small and exposed, and probably moving too fast for our own good, but that’s no reason not to enjoy every minute of the ride.