by William Ernest Henley
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Sunday, December 19, 2010
For the past couple of weeks, I've been quite devotedly watching past seasons of the miraculously witty show "Psych". The show is centered around a man who is a freakishly observant goofball.
He did poorly in school, dropped out of college, worked a variety of jobs for which he quickly lost interest, lived in several countries, and finally found his calling in pretending to be a psychic to assist the police in solving crimes.
The entire premise of the show is that the guy is a brilliant loser. It's that the life he led in his youth was a waste. And that the settling down into a career is to be desired.
But to me, that life of adventure, of moving about with no commitments, seemed less like a cautionary tale and more of... well... a dream come true.
He did poorly in school, dropped out of college, worked a variety of jobs for which he quickly lost interest, lived in several countries, and finally found his calling in pretending to be a psychic to assist the police in solving crimes.
The entire premise of the show is that the guy is a brilliant loser. It's that the life he led in his youth was a waste. And that the settling down into a career is to be desired.
But to me, that life of adventure, of moving about with no commitments, seemed less like a cautionary tale and more of... well... a dream come true.
Sunday, December 05, 2010
Twirling
"I have a brother with autism."
I uttered those words to a stranger for the first time today. It was a qualifying statement. It made me part of a club.
I was outside the store where I work running the demo of the new product we're offering. A woman approached with her son, no older than four, curious if the product would be good for him, since normal video games require a frustrating amount of manual dexterity that many children with autism simply cannot generate.
I heard her say something to her sister nearby about autism and I had to pipe in. As I spoke, it became clear to me that I was just a salesperson to her. Just someone trying to hawk a product. And so I said the words. The magic words.
I have a brother with autism.
Instantly she began smiling and nodding. And as I talked with her about common issues, I saw that familiar relief flood her eyes. Finally, someone who understands! her expression seemed to say. And as I made references to behavioral quirks, she exclaimed, "Yes!" as if she was just discovering that she was not, in fact, insane.
I looked at the little boy, with his unkempt hair, his bouncy smile, and the filthy stuffed rabbit that he clutched, probably so dirty because he wouldn't even allow her to take it away from him long enough to wash it. I recognized the look in his eyes. Happy, curious, and a little bit frightened. A little overwhelmed. As if he knew that there was so much to learn and was trying to learn it all at once. I watched him jumping around rhythmically to the music as I danced and I said a silent prayer for him and for his mother.
---
I'm reading a book right now about a woman who has a severely autistic sister. Her entire life is defined by the word Autism. It is a tactile word for her, with a distinct look and smell. It is a word full of repetitive occurrences and a constant, dreadful anxiety that something is going to go wrong. Any minute now....
And as I read the book I wonder if this is going to be my life. Am I going to be defined by this? Will my family's identity become Autism? There is so much more to us than that.
My brother is amazing. He recalls words he's read better than anyone I've ever met before. He loves animals. He understands them. He loves dry, witty jokes and tells them with such disinterest that they become even funnier. He tells joke after joke as if he's reading from a page, but he's not. He has memorized the book.
He internalizes frustration with such a staunch perfectionism that it makes my own pale in comparison. He will never admit that something is difficult or challenging. Instead, he'll mumble, I hate this. I'm too stupid for it. I might as well not do it because I'm going to fail anyway. And as much as we try to encourage and edify him out of his defeatist pessimism, he doesn't budge and eventually we give him a cheap answer. "Just do it. It's your responsibility. We all have our part to play."
--
In the book I'm reading, the author compares the autistic tendency to twirl things to a desperate desire to navigate the roads of life.
Heidi was for twirling... The book was a steering wheel beneath her quick hands... She didn't have to look down to keep herself on course, steering through a confusing world of other people and noise and language.
As I read this, a light went off in my head. I'm learning about our needs for control. We all have our quirky habits, and many of them return to a root of being in control. So many events happen in our daily lives that seem random and chaotic and are totally outside of our ability to influence. So we create ways to control the little things. My desk may look messy, but it's meticulously organized and all my classes are color-coded. I can control that much.
My brother creates virtual aliens and orchestrates their evolution in a video game.
Some people throw tantrums.
Some play sports.
Some create art.
Some collect items.
Some cook.
Some exercise.
Some fix things.
Some monopolize conversations.
Some buy shoes.
And all of this is a way of dealing with a world over which we have no control. Beautiful results arise sometimes, it's true.
I'm very proud of the two paintings I created this year during my spring break. I like that I could do them. But if I'm honest with myself I can't help but admit that making those paintings, with their straight lines and defined colors, was just a way of trying to exercise a small bit of control over a world that was falling apart around me. And so they hang in that bathroom, a testament to my own despair at the time.
That doesn't make them not be art. In fact, I think that the idea that they were created from some strong emotion makes them more art than if I had simply been trying to copy a style for the sake of decoration.
That beautiful things sometimes result from such broken and insipid motivations is one of the greatest testaments to God's eternal control. And where HE controls (see: everywhere) we don't have to.
I uttered those words to a stranger for the first time today. It was a qualifying statement. It made me part of a club.
I was outside the store where I work running the demo of the new product we're offering. A woman approached with her son, no older than four, curious if the product would be good for him, since normal video games require a frustrating amount of manual dexterity that many children with autism simply cannot generate.
I heard her say something to her sister nearby about autism and I had to pipe in. As I spoke, it became clear to me that I was just a salesperson to her. Just someone trying to hawk a product. And so I said the words. The magic words.
I have a brother with autism.
Instantly she began smiling and nodding. And as I talked with her about common issues, I saw that familiar relief flood her eyes. Finally, someone who understands! her expression seemed to say. And as I made references to behavioral quirks, she exclaimed, "Yes!" as if she was just discovering that she was not, in fact, insane.
I looked at the little boy, with his unkempt hair, his bouncy smile, and the filthy stuffed rabbit that he clutched, probably so dirty because he wouldn't even allow her to take it away from him long enough to wash it. I recognized the look in his eyes. Happy, curious, and a little bit frightened. A little overwhelmed. As if he knew that there was so much to learn and was trying to learn it all at once. I watched him jumping around rhythmically to the music as I danced and I said a silent prayer for him and for his mother.
---
I'm reading a book right now about a woman who has a severely autistic sister. Her entire life is defined by the word Autism. It is a tactile word for her, with a distinct look and smell. It is a word full of repetitive occurrences and a constant, dreadful anxiety that something is going to go wrong. Any minute now....
And as I read the book I wonder if this is going to be my life. Am I going to be defined by this? Will my family's identity become Autism? There is so much more to us than that.
My brother is amazing. He recalls words he's read better than anyone I've ever met before. He loves animals. He understands them. He loves dry, witty jokes and tells them with such disinterest that they become even funnier. He tells joke after joke as if he's reading from a page, but he's not. He has memorized the book.
He internalizes frustration with such a staunch perfectionism that it makes my own pale in comparison. He will never admit that something is difficult or challenging. Instead, he'll mumble, I hate this. I'm too stupid for it. I might as well not do it because I'm going to fail anyway. And as much as we try to encourage and edify him out of his defeatist pessimism, he doesn't budge and eventually we give him a cheap answer. "Just do it. It's your responsibility. We all have our part to play."
--
In the book I'm reading, the author compares the autistic tendency to twirl things to a desperate desire to navigate the roads of life.
Heidi was for twirling... The book was a steering wheel beneath her quick hands... She didn't have to look down to keep herself on course, steering through a confusing world of other people and noise and language.
As I read this, a light went off in my head. I'm learning about our needs for control. We all have our quirky habits, and many of them return to a root of being in control. So many events happen in our daily lives that seem random and chaotic and are totally outside of our ability to influence. So we create ways to control the little things. My desk may look messy, but it's meticulously organized and all my classes are color-coded. I can control that much.
My brother creates virtual aliens and orchestrates their evolution in a video game.
Some people throw tantrums.
Some play sports.
Some create art.
Some collect items.
Some cook.
Some exercise.
Some fix things.
Some monopolize conversations.
Some buy shoes.
And all of this is a way of dealing with a world over which we have no control. Beautiful results arise sometimes, it's true.
I'm very proud of the two paintings I created this year during my spring break. I like that I could do them. But if I'm honest with myself I can't help but admit that making those paintings, with their straight lines and defined colors, was just a way of trying to exercise a small bit of control over a world that was falling apart around me. And so they hang in that bathroom, a testament to my own despair at the time.
That doesn't make them not be art. In fact, I think that the idea that they were created from some strong emotion makes them more art than if I had simply been trying to copy a style for the sake of decoration.
That beautiful things sometimes result from such broken and insipid motivations is one of the greatest testaments to God's eternal control. And where HE controls (see: everywhere) we don't have to.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Mark and Me
"The Social Network" is a phenomenal movie. It's written about a socially awkward boy who, without anyone's permission or blessing (without even a secretary or an office), created the greatest method of connection the world has ever seen. Mark Zuckerberg singlehandedly shrank the world by a factor of about a billion.
And the character of Mark Zuckerberg in "The Social Network" is more like me than any movie character I've ever seen. As described in an article on CNBC.com, "...for people like Zuckerberg, it’s more like Asperger’s, that they lack something essential and don’t have an instinctual understanding of human behavior. That’s why he ended up creating algorithms to explain it.”
Elsewhere the article states concerning our generation, "However lacking Zuckerberg may be in the social graces that drive civil society, he embodies the optimism and creativity of millennials."
Social niceties have never been my strong suit.
I majored in science because it seeks to explain things. I, deep down, believe that everything must have an explanation. There's a formula. An answer. Within the first minute of the film, I knew who Zuckerberg was and I could predict his behavior. He was vengeful and cruel sometimes, confused and childlike other times. But he never lost grasp of himself.
One thing that is obvious in the film is that Mark does not understand social customs. He does not see why you should wear a tie to a deposition, or refrain from making glottal noises in meetings with advertising executives. He is often shown as doodling or staring out a window, possibly into the future. He makes statements that seem entirely unrelated. "It's raining," he comments while a lawyer interviews him.
And when Mark realizes that he has committed a social faux pas, he apologizes and changes his attitude so quickly that he seems insincere. He is, in fact, more sincere than most. But he does not see life in terms of relationships or rules of behavior. He sees it as a long line of math problems. These problems exist to be explored, navigated, and solved. When a social blunder occurs, the correct response, in Mark's mind, is to erase the error and continue solving the problem.
I function the same way. When people are not literal, I am confused. It means I have to go back and rewrite that portion of the code. However, once I discover a common theme, I can incorporate it into my social behaviors.
It's evident that the Mark Zuckerberg in the film has no emotional connection to the events that occur around him. His words do not hinge on what is kind or right to say, but rather on what is true. If what I am saying is true, why must I sugar-coat it for you?, he seems to ask.
I often wonder at my lack of emotional connection to the world around me. It's been often that I've thought there was something wrong with me on this level. I've learned to synthesize emotion. I've learned to be passionate. I've learned to be caring and supportive of my friends. But all this is hard work for me. I must remind myself to do this. Deep down, I am still analyzing everything.
/If A occurs, then B is the correct response./ It's becoming more natural now, but it's still work.
I am terribly confused when people ask me how I feel about something. I don't understand the question. How do I feel? Cold. or Hungry. or Tired.
This is also why I could be considered to be either extremely gullible, or very jaded. I think the best of everyone. I assume they are all speaking truth. And when, after months of perceived truth, someone tells me that they have been creating a false impression for me, I am destroyed. All that code must be rewritten. All the /if, then/ statements are faulty because of one mistaken line of code.
On the other hand, when I notice a trend in behavior, I change too much code. /People behaved like A, therefore explanation is B. Corrective response: C./ This makes me seem cynical. As if I don't trust people at all. It makes me seem catty, arrogant, and unstable.
I'm not a genius like Mark Zuckerberg in "The Social Network". But when it comes to navigating the real social structure of the world, I am equally inept.
But then again, my code is still compiling..............
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And the character of Mark Zuckerberg in "The Social Network" is more like me than any movie character I've ever seen. As described in an article on CNBC.com, "...for people like Zuckerberg, it’s more like Asperger’s, that they lack something essential and don’t have an instinctual understanding of human behavior. That’s why he ended up creating algorithms to explain it.”
Elsewhere the article states concerning our generation, "However lacking Zuckerberg may be in the social graces that drive civil society, he embodies the optimism and creativity of millennials."
Social niceties have never been my strong suit.
I majored in science because it seeks to explain things. I, deep down, believe that everything must have an explanation. There's a formula. An answer. Within the first minute of the film, I knew who Zuckerberg was and I could predict his behavior. He was vengeful and cruel sometimes, confused and childlike other times. But he never lost grasp of himself.
One thing that is obvious in the film is that Mark does not understand social customs. He does not see why you should wear a tie to a deposition, or refrain from making glottal noises in meetings with advertising executives. He is often shown as doodling or staring out a window, possibly into the future. He makes statements that seem entirely unrelated. "It's raining," he comments while a lawyer interviews him.
And when Mark realizes that he has committed a social faux pas, he apologizes and changes his attitude so quickly that he seems insincere. He is, in fact, more sincere than most. But he does not see life in terms of relationships or rules of behavior. He sees it as a long line of math problems. These problems exist to be explored, navigated, and solved. When a social blunder occurs, the correct response, in Mark's mind, is to erase the error and continue solving the problem.
I function the same way. When people are not literal, I am confused. It means I have to go back and rewrite that portion of the code. However, once I discover a common theme, I can incorporate it into my social behaviors.
It's evident that the Mark Zuckerberg in the film has no emotional connection to the events that occur around him. His words do not hinge on what is kind or right to say, but rather on what is true. If what I am saying is true, why must I sugar-coat it for you?, he seems to ask.
I often wonder at my lack of emotional connection to the world around me. It's been often that I've thought there was something wrong with me on this level. I've learned to synthesize emotion. I've learned to be passionate. I've learned to be caring and supportive of my friends. But all this is hard work for me. I must remind myself to do this. Deep down, I am still analyzing everything.
/If A occurs, then B is the correct response./ It's becoming more natural now, but it's still work.
I am terribly confused when people ask me how I feel about something. I don't understand the question. How do I feel? Cold. or Hungry. or Tired.
This is also why I could be considered to be either extremely gullible, or very jaded. I think the best of everyone. I assume they are all speaking truth. And when, after months of perceived truth, someone tells me that they have been creating a false impression for me, I am destroyed. All that code must be rewritten. All the /if, then/ statements are faulty because of one mistaken line of code.
On the other hand, when I notice a trend in behavior, I change too much code. /People behaved like A, therefore explanation is B. Corrective response: C./ This makes me seem cynical. As if I don't trust people at all. It makes me seem catty, arrogant, and unstable.
I'm not a genius like Mark Zuckerberg in "The Social Network". But when it comes to navigating the real social structure of the world, I am equally inept.
But then again, my code is still compiling..............
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
What's there to lose?
Tuesday, September 07, 2010
Unflinching
I am a new person.
I've seen this person developing over the past six months and I like who she is. She's secure. She knows who she is. She doesn't waver.
Along with this new person comes a new blog look. It's time, I think, to set the record straight.
I am the same woman who was burned deep within and fell into flaming disarray. But from the ashes of my brokenness, knowing now that I put my faith in the wrong things, I find myself arising purer, stronger, more malleable than ever. Malleable only to the One who knows me, the One who's purified me ever more, placing me lovingly in the fire so that my impurities are burned away.
In Taming of the Shrew, when Lucentio sees Bianca for the first time, he cries out, "I burn, I pine, I perish!" So strong is his immediate love for her. And now I call out the same.
I burn.
I pine.
I perish.
But the more I perish for love of my Savior, the more I live.
I've seen this person developing over the past six months and I like who she is. She's secure. She knows who she is. She doesn't waver.
Along with this new person comes a new blog look. It's time, I think, to set the record straight.
I am the same woman who was burned deep within and fell into flaming disarray. But from the ashes of my brokenness, knowing now that I put my faith in the wrong things, I find myself arising purer, stronger, more malleable than ever. Malleable only to the One who knows me, the One who's purified me ever more, placing me lovingly in the fire so that my impurities are burned away.
In Taming of the Shrew, when Lucentio sees Bianca for the first time, he cries out, "I burn, I pine, I perish!" So strong is his immediate love for her. And now I call out the same.
I burn.
I pine.
I perish.
But the more I perish for love of my Savior, the more I live.
Friday, August 20, 2010
6 months later, and happy
Today is the agreed-upon 6 month mark. And though we haven't talked in that long, haven't discussed our relationship (or, at this point, lack thereof), I really didn't expect a phone call today.
Today I am 25.5 years old. Today I am single.
Today I have no idea what the rest of my life holds in store for me, but I am ever sure that I am in Good Hands.
Today I am 25.5 years old. Today I am single.
Today I have no idea what the rest of my life holds in store for me, but I am ever sure that I am in Good Hands.
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